al riginosure O ncl E

Halfmilestone 2010
Half a mile above the half-mile soup and miasma, working slowly into your bones, bringing your houses down from the corners. No amount of wellriveted steel will halt the tide, as slow as a continent, sliding and rolling in another dimension to leak its precious flora at the edges of ours. Danger (animal attack, terrorism, accident) is a charade to the real threat; something we all stand on, something too slow even to catch you unawares. The only defense is sweat, blood, cum, piss and magic. We will see forever, act out being taken under, spin like tops until centrifuge stuns us into safety, move mountains and flip coins. These types of things are what let us keep on doing our own thing. Imagine a whole packet thrown in the air, so high each element impacts with the earth at terminal velocity and is immediately soaked up by immediate environment. Everyone must pay a price, everyone must have their place and afterwards their place in the sun. This Water will gush and wash every nook and cranny. And in it the threat of apocalypse blended so seamlessly with something so outwardly positive. I will not allow these items into my current home, despite any promise of magnetic affect (like the old con of Feng Shui). We ride wave after wave of natures careless abandon and as subject I will sweat and steal my way from the center to the hills, the classic dream. From some perverse Alienstyle meshing where the apparatus of society (doorways, corridors, desks, chairs, lamps) cease to present any obstacle and are interacted with as freely as one interacts with ones own thoughts, to Peter Doigs virgin space, a blank kind of desolation inhabited solely by the humble pinemartin. Then afterwards, a trade route, obviously.

Ben Marshall-Corser, recent

graduate of UWE Fine Arts degree course Original Enclosure, exhibition of installation featuring various paintings BV Studios, location of large new studio complex and gallery space