Word Drawing – Minotaur Story #1

Last night I heard an explosion in the sky. It shook the windows of this room, I watched, fascinated as the ice on the outside of the glass fractured and fell into the darkness below.

I don’t remember how I got here. All I know is what I see in front of me; a ten foot square room, white walls, a bed, a table, a chair, a light switch that operates the bare bulb in the centre of the ceiling. There’s only one door and that leads to the small bathroom.

Sometimes I wonder how the food that appears on the table each morning gets there, but I’ve been here so long that it’s easier to just say “Thank you” and not to ponder that mystery too deeply.

I say that all I know is what I see, but maybe that’s not true. If I was to trust my eyes and ears I’d say I’m alone in this room, but sometimes at night – that is, when I turn out the light, outside the window it’s always dark, just blackness and stretching out into the distance a snow covered plain –  at night I can feel him in here with me.

The Minotaur.

I can feel the warmth of his body when he gets close, the soft huff of his breath on my neck when he exhales.

Sometimes I talk to him, telling him stories I’ve made up during the day, like the story of the boy who kept the ghosts of books as pets, or the man who collected paper birds in a coffin. He never answers but I like to think he enjoys them.

I wonder if he can see me, or perhaps, as seems more likely, he’s in similarposition to me, locked in a room, alone and just feeling me there. Perhaps he’s telling me stories. Whatever the truth of our situation is, I like to think we’re friends.

Tonight I ask him if he heard the explosion in the sky. I can sense him stop, his breath held and I know that, wherever he is, the Minotaur heard it as well.

I walk to the window and stare out at the sky. The Minotaur moves next to me, if we could, I know we’d hold hands, because at last we’ve found something to share.


December’s Drawing In.

For the last year or so my art practice has been focused on an investigation on the legend of the minotaur. Although I know I really should get round to writing something about the motivations and scope of the project, a large element has been an open approach, using any material that comes to hand, experimenting, trying new things and not allowing myself to be bound by a particular set of criteria and so to put down exactly what I’m trying to achieve seems at the moment impossible, as I’m still not sure what that goal actually is.

Having just given a lengthy excuse for not writing, writing is the latest medium that I’m experimenting with – I’ve always seen language as much of a material for art production as  acrylic, clay, bronze whatever you choose to work in, and I’ve blogged before about artists who work exclusively in words.

Througout December I’m going to be turning my attention to drawing – partially to get better at it and partly because there’s some immediate about sitting down with a pen and a sheet of blank paper and whether you end up with a completed piece, a germ of an idea or just a nonsensical doodle, it’s still a great way of giving physical form to whatever is sloshing around your brain.

Tonight my ‘drawing’ took the form of a odd little fragment of a story, it just came once I’d written the first few words, and then before I knew it, it was finished. I think I can regard it as a ‘sketch’ in as much as it does the same thing that a sketched image does, it gives you the sense of something incomplete but with the potential to go somewhere, of a situation that needs to be resolved.  I don’t know if the story will grow, or if it will remain as it is, an odd little narrative scene that might make the reader wonder what’s really going on, but I think there’ll be other stories to come.

Anyway these strange little vignettes will be appearing on here – I hope you enjoy them.