wings walking water
a project, a practice, an ongoing story by Baco Ohama
For a long time I have had an interest in language; in what gets carried and conveyed, hidden and revealed, through one’s use of language; and in what gets discovered and understood when working with language as one aspect of an artistic practice. I am interested in stories that aren’t necessarily narratives told in one stretch, from beginning to end. My interest is in building, telling, and sharing stories in ways that might be experienced through glimmers and bits or felt in the relational spaces between locations and generations, between the dreams of night and the sensory experiences of day, between the uncanny and the mundane, and between the spoken and heard.
wings walking water is a project and practice that plays in the osmotic space of both the known and unknown and tends to flow backwards and forward in time, moving from location to location, site to site, even as I try to live and work mindful of each present moment and experience . . .
current project: the poetic and the pandemic
This fall into winter video is part two of the poetic and the pandemic project.
From September until the end of December 2020, I continued to go out text walking in local neighbourhoods and with the material gathered on those walks I started to write a series of short poems. Eventually those poems made their way into this video piece.
As I post it here, my hope is that all of you are finding ways of staying safe and staying well. And I also hope that there’s been much kindness and a sense of wonder to your days . . .
(Friday, January 29th, 2021)
After six months of writing haiku and working on this text walking video, part one of the poetic and the pandemic is finally completed.
I share it with you here, with the hope that all of you are staying well and finding creative ways to manage through this strange and challenging time . . .
(Tuesday, September 1st, 2020)
With the COVID-19 pandemic keeping me mostly inside the apartment, one of the things I thought I could do, is to try and mail out more everyday poetics postcardie letters. I thought that maybe finding a tangible, physical, personal piece of mail in one’s mailbox would be something others might appreciate, especially at this time when we’ve been asked not to gather or to visit with each other.
I have stamps. And thankfully last month I bought a new box of MOAB’s Entrada Rag Paper, so I can keep printing postcards. Well, at least until I run out of printer inks.
Last week I figured out that it takes one stamp to mail out an envelope with three postcards in it. So although in the past my postcardie letters would often be longer, at this time I’m limiting each letter to three postcards. This way, I don’t need to make trips to the post office to get my postcardie letters weighed. I can just drop them in a mailbox, whenever I go out for a short neighbourhood walk (keeping a distance of at least 6 feet from others, of course).
Today, I’ve started to make envelopes since I ran out of the store bought variety. And I’m remembering how satisfying it is to be making what I need from scratch or with whatever I have on hand. This process I realize is also comforting . . .
(Tuesday, March 24th, 2020)