Documentary, 2020. Jedda-Daisy Culley, Fraser Anderson, Benjamin Barretto, at 32.0481 115.7511.
Fremantle, Australia.

‘Documentary’ e~ssay 2.0 by Jedda

“Rhythm is the milieus’ answer to chaos.”
- Gilles Deleuze

If they came and knocked down all the houses around you and replaced your neighbours with shipping containers and forklifts, would you fight to keep your weatherboard cottage by the sea? Might be hard to adjust but even slowly, slime mould can solve intricate mazes and you’ll have the house with the best sunset view. I’m thinking about place and that energetic home chord singing a nostalgic chime. The bees will attend the funeral for their bee keeper as they need to mourn their losses.

We each have a ball of NRG inside of us that goes up and comes down. Stacks of protective shells and puffy jackets, layered up to protect a hole we might never mend. We loop and exchange, relating to or determined by the sun. Like how a Steve Reich composition simply lines the loops up in unison and slowly lets them shift out of phase with each other; we too look for the flaws in the group or moments of difference to call our own. We are staying connected. Making short, sharp geodesic connections across the sphere, east to west. Re-wiring my idea of isolation, I’m going for the metaphysical-Facetime-meditation-cuddle-batterystation~vibe like this kinetic landscape we’re linking up, stuck in my phone he shows me the sunset.

We are trying to harvest moves on solar dance floors. You can’t see the full extent of my moves, there is too much octopus for this iPhone screen. Determined to deliver those sonar clicks, we generate heat. “Piezoelectricity (according to Wikipedia) is the electric charge that accumulates in certain solid materials (such as crystals, certain ceramics, and biological matter such as bone, DNA and various proteins)” in response to the high level of sun deity our dance generates. He might be able to boil an egg in his car. He’s going to find a spot to stop and pop the house on his roof racks. When the thing clicks onto the other thing and makes a shift that vibrates some place under his protective glass vest of oysters. Like when Olympia chooses that stone over the one next to it? Did it speak to her? She felt for it. She’s the electronic oscillator regulated by the quartz crystal to clock time and choose the rock.

Olympia knows what sound the sun makes when it sets into the sea. She’s being programmed to read the sky for clues on home ground. That’s how it goes down, she thinks. Across the North Freo bridge the river pours out over eggs and seeds. She can’t see them but one day she will know it’s an octopus’s garden, that’s where the sun goes.