‘There isn’t one space, a beautiful space, a beautiful space round about, a beautiful space all around us, there’s a whole lot of small bits of space.’ – Georges Perec
Watch this space ~ ~ ~ ~ a space I’ve seen before, a sleeping space ~ a dreaming space. A space of mazes, a space of infinite possibilities and consequences… My dream world: the space I enter every night and leave (abruptly) every morning.
This space is mine; it belongs to no one else. Within this space, dream becomes reality. Everything seems real: objects can be touched, moved and broken. People can be seen, heard and felt.
Within this space familiar (physical) spaces become unfamiliar; abstraction takes form in my bedroom, in my house. My closet is no longer a restricted space, but an open space with limitless dimensions. My window no longer exists, making my space vulnerable to the outside world and its vast magnitudes of outside space. The front door no longer closes; it remains open extending the boundaries of my space, a deconstruction of my safe space.
Insecurity has consumed this space. My bed no longer comforts me, but becomes buried in snow as the outside space comes in. This space is cold and dark. My belongings still inhabit this space, yet they cannot be reached. The two objects that allow me to communicate outside of this space cannot be found. I cannot access my Facebook space, my cyber space. I am disconnected in this space, my space… But it is no longer my space.
People enter this space without my knowledge. They are imagined faces who inhabit the recreated space of my store cupboard – now much larger in dimension. It is not a store cupboard any more, but a shelter for these unknown intruders who have forced their way into my space. This space does not protect me as it does in reality, I am dreaming in a space of fear rather than a space of peace.
My home space becomes the uncanny mirror to my reality, I know this space cannot exist this way, yet I am in it, believing it. The space is sculptured around my reality, everything looks the same, it is only when I wake that I realise this space is a construct of my subconscious, a space that can never exist outside my mind.
The electricity and water belonging to this space become absent. The food in the kitchen space is decaying, as are the belongings on my bookshelf in my bedroom. This is a space of absence, an absence of reality and my every day. Small details such as the pattern of my bedcovers or the colour of my walls cannot be determined as a result of the blurring within an imagined space. This is a dream space of imagined realities.
This space does not explore the history of my tastes, but of my subconscious. It is a marking out of my ulterior space, the underlying concerns and desires of my approach to life, both in work and play.