Notes from under the bridge

by Jóhan Martin Christiansen

Poem, or notes, quotes etc. collected during the period September 2023 to June 2024, and presented at Tiny Park Festival, Of Public Interest, Stockholm, Sweden

Surrender, I do surrender. Columns holding heavy traffic up in the air. Every building equals a hole in the ground. People going somewhere. Like material being moved around. Hopes and dreams lying on the ground. Gravity hangs on the shoulders. From the top, inflatable city. Heavy construction, solid and yet a bit fragile, ephemeral. Tagging, the Rush. Inflatable mind. A sculpture is a fragment of something else. The bridge transports water in its veins. Wet sand. Legs under the water surface. Yellow flowers. Fade to grey. The site as a stage. Maybe for a sculpture. Or I imagine a dancer on the site. Historical texture. Make flags. Something that I tend to forget: sound is always present. Stockholm City is planning constructions on Fågelsångberget. Protesters collecting signatures. Inflatable time. Time out of time. Random order. How to destroy. Blow me up. Pull me down. Scars, the fall. Power play. PLOW THROUGH ME. Stay with me / dear, tell / about that time / when I am no more. Pillars supporting the structures. Blow up, show up. Or get kicked out. We’re building a house while we watch it burn. Burn out. Displaced material. It was Grace. An unrestful body. Touch me, touch me gently. How to hold on to an image. Indexical traces (cardboard). All at once. Scale. Moving through. With every passing, any awareness of time, the choreographic discomposes the space around us, asking how we arrange our bodies in response. Snow. Always cautious, constantly alert. Exhaustion and ecstatic. Is that how I see the site, the city. The skin of the site. An area, surrounded by a fence, covered with yellow tarpaulin. A couple of days later only one side was covered. Spring is in the air. I believe the bridge was constructed in the 60’s. There are a lot of dogwalkers in this city. My body weight compared to the weight of the city. The last rays of the afternoon sun. Disquiet. I am with U.

– June 2024