The Daily Kit: WORD & UNWORD opening this Saturday 20th April - 3 pm at the WORD X IMAGE GALLERY, 445 High Street, Maitland

my WORD & UNWORD EXHIBITION

at WORD X IMAGE GALLERY in Maitland

opens 3pm Saturday 20th April, 2024

word & unword

Word & Unword is an exploration of what we discover of ourselves and the world when we come to the borders of scripted sense. What’s over that border is a personal adventure.

The work on the wall in this show consists of (sometimes epigrammatic) handscripted fragments of poems, balanced against abstract calligraphic works. These (magnetically attached) works on paper are all about crossing and blurring lines between text and image, between what is intelligible as script in one language or another, and what might be prototypical of writing.

Word & Unword leads the viewer/reader/listener from known words to semblances of words, to symbols, into scrawl that can never quite be meaningless. Along with the paper work on the wall are a slideshow, and a poem/music fragmented soundscape, these also distracting and de/familiarizing the viewer/listener’s expectations of presence to image and text.

The experience for anyone attempting to pay attention is that of being lost in a territory of strange lines and signs, or, conversely of coming on a journey from a wilderness of scribble into meaning/s that can be recognized and understood. In either case, a participant in the work is tasked with making their own poem and meaning. One must work/ play randomly/whimsically, just as the eye is carried, or by some unknowable method, as suits.

Meaning is something humans can’t help. In defiance of a so-called ‘asemic’ orthodoxy, the hope of this walk-in work is to provide a demonstration of the maxim –

no signs without meaning – no meaning without signs.

dream the underlife

garden wilds

see about

the overwhim

all eyes inside unsettling

far as if for a beyond

some say it is so

to else it in the wherewith

a virtue creature care

let the body its way

and a sunspill

well wish in the underleaf

where I’ll be taken too

have wand

may touch

go on

be at the whim of word

breeze sway

neither fooled again

aware!

when you wake

be woke

wordly

light catches any self

and we are all because

how else?

word rings a bell

whether you see

and ready or not

just where you let day in

I drink from the sky

my constant imperfect

made of breath

and old curses

half lit

falling to

never shaped still

I have the breeze apart

there are so many places we are

look up into the map it makes

it’s so with me

sometimes a page is incomplete

a wisp tricked into the picture

always leaning in

en la ĝardeno de tutpermesitaj

iun sunon diri

neniu vojodoro

grandaj arboj

kaj pli grandaj ombroj ĵetis

decidu la fiherbojn

kaj akvo kie

iu ajn estas ĉi tie

per piedo, per flugilo

estas kvazaŭ ni posedas la lokon

ni ĉiuj iris kaprice

kaj mi eniras

timrespektinda

malamikoj disiĝas

sinjoro de ĉiuj

prenu la vidon

kiaj grandaj piedoj

kiaj malbelaj piedfingroj

'saluton'

la plej ŝatata floro parolas

blovete, petaloj disŝutitaj

(sed sinjoroj ne malkaŝos)

ĉiuj ĉi tie bezonas hartondon

nubo denove tiam hele kaj poste

kompromiti forintan tagon al vortoj

ĉar mi estas lasita fari

nur hazarde ĉi tie

in the garden of all allowed

some sun to say

no whiff of road

great trees

and greater shadows cast

decide the weeds

and water where

anyone’s here

by paw, by wing

it’s like we own the place

we all went whimsically

and I walk in

much awe make

enemies scatter

lord of all

take in the view

what big feet

what ugly toes

‘hello’

that’s favourite flower speaks

waftily, petals strewn

(but gentlemen won’t disclose)

everyone here needs a haircut

cloud again then bright and then

commit gone day to words

because I’m let to do

just happen to be here

voices as if

day’s foliage fallen

up steps so

fence and gate grown far

on picnic Sunday

grass spread

any day of a week

sunlight shafts the creek’s run

in waters gathered

it’s shade that brings no pause

ants cleave a tree slow

shadows cast quick

there’s someone is always singing upstairs

it’s anywhere to be here

gospel

there are no souls

but the animal is

and we at heart so far

not a self survived

here’s a stretch

the tree is upwards of one wish

as simple as

world’s motion

there’s no contradicting this

there are no souls to save

the life in treetops

skybright and singing

where the stars catch

blue in the breeze

taking off landing

some give their lives to climb so high

some here fate lets fall

if it’s a poem

you won’t know what you’ll see

trireme quark and

not brain but heartchild

soon you’ll be coming down with it

wet dog shake in the lounge

if it’s a poem

milk in the bones, suspicion

how you’ll be touched or by whom

a study in applause

you won’t predict a next world

you’re the one haunted, mourning

if it’s a poem

the oh in woe

proof of illusion

you don’t know how you came

where you’ll go

works with the weather

and miracles too

coast downhill for denouement

there’s someone out there will read

must imagine this

you’re someone else

if it’s a poem

you’ll come again

you’ll take your chances too

there’s a word for a week away

yesterday will be tomorrow too

the hour is all around us

could be back in the dream

could tell it

miss lunch

have it twice

set off on foot

lost and found the hour again

very own rabbithole of such

where we meet the whipbird in person

of course it all needs remembering

here’s time owed to us

those old bells!

off like the two-bob watch in the tale

how there was a rope somewhere

and the tree bends under its own weight

spent mine in the tops

a touch of cloud

it’s not the cleaning up day

and yet that hour was earmarked

slipped into this new zone

some other

still sleeping it off

hair of the dog with the extra tail

there’s all this overthinking

one would like to file that hour away

keep it for a leap year

but we’re there

by the time of waking

it’s already used up

make a frame

will I lose light here?

will I be gifted?

we furnish a day like this

they had a name for everything

so comprised

saw themselves in a pool made glass

they sound like the place if you’d hear

may not have had socks as such

no word for aeroplane

but knew what flew

sky up for thunder

could cringe

they took a stick to dig

woke by light

slept to fire

so saw the day again

so many things they would wish to make god

and were yet to invent

they had a word for sweat, for leer

a day away, a month

all the while it was taming to them

they shone as we shine

they told each other too

when looks and limbs were knowing

their eyes as good as where they went

if the sun showed

they knew

though often quite other

their dying wish

they left us to all this

brila foliopinteto

kien iris la vetero

lumigita kantado

membro al membro

kiel hele la verdo

folias ĝis bluaj

kaj ĉiu ĉiamo kun

kvazaŭ la kiso

ankoraŭ sur la lipo

enfermita, multe por diri

ĉiuj brilas interne per ĝi

aŭskultu la venontan faladon

kaj tiel la mallumo vidiĝas flanken

la arbaro en la kanto

vi ne povus pentri mondon tian

sed ĝi devas savita

glisten tip

where the weather went

lit singing

limb to limb

how bright the green

leafs up to blue

and all forever’s with

as if the kiss

still on the lip

pent up, much to say

everyone shining inside with it

listen for a next falling

and so the dark is seen aside

the forest in the song

you couldn’t paint a world like this

but it’s the one to save

wordly

light catches any self

and we are all because

how else?

word rings a bell

whether you see

and ready or not

just where you let day in

ne estas spiro

ĉu vi vidis ilin

stari ĉiuj piedoj al

ili estas unue

klinita al matenmanĝo

oreloj en rapida rotacio

kiel birdoj foje

svingi la fruktitan membron

familio

palpebrumo de la okuloj kvazaŭ

prenu pecon da nubo por luno

venas klara nebulo

kaj ĉiuj en kiuj la arbo estas

kelkfoje spiro tiel kaptita

forgesis diri

iuj montetoj kantas pretere

ĉu ni

foliomalhela

ĉu vi vidis la lumon starantan

kvazaŭ nur por ricevi ilin tie

not a breath

have you seen them

stand all paws towards

there is a firstness to them

bent to breakfast

ears in quick rotation

as birds sometimes

to sway the fruited limb

a family

blink of the eye as if

take a piece of cloud for moon

there comes a clearing mist

and everyone the tree is in

sometimes breath so caught

forgets to say

some hills sing beyond

shall we

leaf dim

have you seen the light standing

as if just to receive them there

la meditado pri mia kadavro kiel memo

(unu pli malgranda odo de morteco)

por ataraksio/ ĝeni dioj

estas nudpiede al la Flavaj Putoj

benu miajn insulojn, ni kantu

kiel en ĉi tiu kranio estis miaj deziroj

kaj legu ilin ĉi tie hodiaŭ

estas nenie alie ĉi tion mi iras

kaj neniu alia por esti

kiel mi do estas tie por disponi

kiam tio estas por la ĉiopova?

revenu kiel ĉi tiuj vortoj

sed nur se vi ŝatas

kiel sidi por streĉigi sur trono

en arbaro mi deziris

nun pli alta ol la karna mi

sezonoj venis kaj foriris en la arbo

vidu aferojn, kiuj ne estas tute tie

vi tute ne vidos min

diru totala fiasko de sistemoj

aŭ pli kaj pli profunde en la vivo

ĝis li elĉerpigis vojojn, preter laŭdo

ie kiel frapfulmo, mi faras

eta lekanto suprenpuŝan feliĉon

ne sentos la malvarmon aŭ ion alian

aminda estos estinti

ekvido de la turnoj preter la miaj

por scii antaŭ certa tago en Printempo

malalta altitudo la laŭbbirdoj

la morusujo ekmaturiĝas

kaj paro da ili

flugiloj tenis al bona kruta kliniĝo

kukoloj de la sudo revenis

the meditation on my corpse as a self

it’s barefoot to the Yellow Wells

bless my isles, let’s sing

how in this skull my wishes were

and read them here today

there’s nowhere else this I goes

and no one else to be

how am I there then to dispose

when that’s for the almighty?

come back as these words

but just if you like

like sitting to strain on a throne

in forest I’ve wished

now taller than the fleshly me

seasons have come and gone in the tree

see things that aren’t quite there

you won’t see me at all

say total systems failure

or deeper and deeper in life

till he ran out of roads, past praise

Iie like a thunderbolt, I do

a little daisy push up bliss

won’t feel the cold or thing else

lovely it will be to have been

glimpse of the turns beyond mine

to know ahead of a certain day in Spring

low altitude the bower birds

the mulberry coming ripe

and a pair of them

wings held to a fine steep tilt

the Channel Bills are back

no place like home

for the philosophy of table tennis

I have been thinking about Dorothy again

what I’ve been thinking is that

there actually is no place like home

and whatever you suppose

there’s no place where there isn’t any trouble

there is only here and now

these legs these limbs

there is running away

we were made to keep moving

weren’t made at all

not for any practical purposes

we’ve just happened to survive thus far

this far

were always trying to get somewhere

you wouldn’t want to bet that it keeps going

it doesn’t matter how cosy life gets

or you manage to make it

the road winds on

it’s nothing like the way you thought

what bit will bite again

there actually is no place that’s like home

there’s only this here and now

all by whim

how lovely wonderful a world

where we come sunshone

drink sky in

make the needful

bless by bliss

a leafrise

and a furling world

with breeze to cheek

golden still

and just as if we dreamt

with words for every wish

imagine!

it’s as if we were here right now

Key Event Dates:

OPENING: SATURDAY 20^th APRIL – 3 pm – 5 pm

Exhibition opened by Dr Josh Stenberg

Poetry Reading by Kit Kelen

FLYING ISLANDS WORKSHOP READINGS:

SATURDAY 4^th May – 2 pm – 5 pm

CLOSING JAM & READING

SATURDAY 25^th MAY – 3 pm – 6 pm

featuring Richard Tipping, Chris Mansell, Ed Wright

ABOUT THE GALLERY

WordXimage presents cross-overs between images and words, exploring relationships between poetry, art and sound; text and picture-making; publishing and exhibiting. Wordximage is the studio gallery of poet/artist Richard Kelly Tipping, with a programme of avant-unguarded shows presenting uncertain art for certain people.

WXI (pronounced 'WiXI') is a small shopfront exhibition space located in the main street of Maitland, a historic town in New South Wales, Australia, two and a half hour's drive north of Sydney or thirty minutes from Newcastle. Join the mailing list to be alerted to openings and events on Saturday afternoons once a month. Or drop by and look through the window anytime. Sometimes open by appointment.

Contact: wordximage at gmail.com 445 High Street, Maitland 2320