'work in progess'


 This is the second part of proposals addressed to a group of artists and psychoanalysts and is currently ongoing work. Both parts can be seen on antigonesrabbit.com (see 'two proposals').

  'Part 2’


  more testimony than proposal

 There are dreams at the end of talking house(s). It's a long text and I should say something about dreaming.

 I dreamt beginning to make sense of an area where time stood still and another dream has something to do with Brompton Road, the Royal Marsden and a baby sitting on a tearoom table. One dream suggests trying too hard, a young woman on the outside and a Lacanian conference.

 I refer to a curatorship dream and curating involves a little homophony. It's a small homophony with dreams on the outside.


 With too much and too little at stake there's a co-ordinate from long ago. 

 It's something overheard at Goldsmiths nearly fifty years ago and I was listening in to a post May '68 art school meeting, when someone on the teaching staff elaborated. 

 He took time to say what he wanted to say and was making a case for art schools and art school education in 1968. Bernice responded in a different register. She wasn’t really listening and couldn’t be drawn into a localised arguement. Knowing what was best in art school education fell short of Bernadette’s sense of fair play and saviour faire and she wasn't even in the art school.

 She dismissed an arguement with consumate ease and invented a different register. 

 It's a lost in time moment and a lot seemed to be changing in 1968. There was no answer to arguments surrounding art school education then and there isn't now and a change of register did the trick. She wasn't on the other end of a case... and the art school soon moved closer to a local community. 

 Some gestures have a bearing or take time to arrive and Goldsmiths is well known for a later entrepreneuring generation, but other moments can be far reaching and far reaching is probably an ambitious qualification these days.


 Accommodation wasn’t possible for a while and retroactively art school occupations can be part of a discontent surrounding work and the signifier occupy. A post'68 lost in time moment lost some momentum and a disdain for professions, in my case, led to poorly paid work for a long time.  

 I should fast forward to a curatorial dream and to a location where something happens in the text called talking house(s). The curatorial dream is part of a run up to more re-vision and likely work on a text that can only be updated.

 A location persists. It turns up in the Lacanian conference dream and the Tarkovsky moment isn't far away, but in the curatorial dream, I'm looking at animals and making notes with museum people. Neglect is palpable... and it’s the zone in Tarkovsky’s Stalker with farm animals. It’s dream-like afterwards, sensible at the time and there's a list of associations premising a museum without walls.

  Let's say, it's where time stands still... and where there's everything and nothing to say. The work is beyond us. Notes won't suffice and it's no longer a museum without walls. Our presence changes things. The animals want food and I do my best shearing a sheep. It won't do, can't do and nothing stays the same. Curatorship isn't possible in a post Tarkovsky world and catching up is letting go. 

 There is a museum without walls and no museum without walls!

  a returning Tarkovsky moment

 A plan of action began with an embarrassed tree, mentioned in talking house(s). I point my camera, leaves start falling and it's already part of a much later dream.

Christopher Sands, still, 2014 

   video spot

 Returning to the same spot is a feature in my video. The spot becomes what it is, an abstraction, coordinate... spot

 After a trip to the Marsden, when anything might happen, I already knew what I wanted to do. There's time for a coffee, with an outside table as tripod. It's a one off moment, like other one off moments, with dreaming to follow... and making a fool of myself in front of Ruth’s brother with Ruth looking on. 

 A brief testimony, then a few more hours sleep. Problems with my eye and with video... when looking has to do with past events. 

 I lay in bed thinking what I’d say if I got as far as the voice recorder on my phone. There was steam outside, not mist or fog but something hissing at street level and it clearly has to do with video called Peripheral and the life of a train station. 

 I slept and woke up, then slept and woke up again and the hissing wouldn’t do. I’m doing what I’ve done for a while, listening with just half a body and looking out for the ghost of a cherry tree in an English village. 

 No one should know!

  tongue tied

 I came up with new video texts and want to include them somehow. Texts have a part to play here and there, but video texts leave me tongue tied. It begins with a preoccupation... and the after effects of a preoccupation. 

 It has something to do with an archival photo, steam, a railway station and lying perfectly still. Listening to sounds follows time spent filming and it’s something I’ve always done. Stains at different times and a painting that’s not one. 

 My father went about things in a different way.


 With peripheral there are the sounds of two stations and there’s a voice-over that can be mute. With a text there is more and more text and with video something is declined. It’s not exactly less text. There’s so much and so little to see in an old archive and nothing is really old. There are twists and turns and sometimes something else. Something else is becoming a leitmotif. 


 I’m working on video and catching up is part of video and texts accompanying video. It’s slurred motion and the time it takes makes showing them problematic. It’s problematic but not a problem and video and text problems feel like physical problems. There’s no getting away from them and adding something could be a distraction, but the distraction is untested and apparitions are made up like appearances. Putting on a show is putting on a show. It’s looking good in some way. 

 An epidemic could involve staying in and getting out there somehow.

   having a body

 Having a body is a problem some evenings. I felt very cold after Ruth died... and don’t feel well when I don’t move around. I don’t circulate or my circulation isn’t what it once was. I’m slumping and will slump over one day or one evening and it won’t be a pretty sight. I’ve been looking at unused clips from 2014 and video is never just archival. I’ve been looking at old albums and remember sitting on a horse and feeling uncomfortable at my father’s school. He was the art teacher at a different school and I was in the wrong place sitting on a horse.

 Comings and goings will be disturbed by the epidemic and recent preoccupations already seem surprising, but two proposals are still part of talking house(s). It’s a text and broader project.


  something blossoms without blossoming

 There are photos of Ruth in a Southampton hotel room in 2012 and I include one (of the room) without her in a timeline and she’s mostly absent in (the video called) peripheral. I sit on a horse and remember a cherry tree in a garden. I’m here and not here and something blossoms without blossoming.

 Christopher Sands, still, 28 September 2014


 I push on with a camera, hold back editing and say something about visibility or something like it. It’s never the same and something else is something else. It’s a misnomer. It’s a surprising misnomer and difficulty showing work is an extension. Something begins with music or something heard but not heard. The rest, if there’s anymore, begins with something thought up once before. It’s possible or it was once possible. 

 My father seemed tired in a dream this morning. 

 Something carries on and something doesn’t and there’s something retrospective here. I could say I felt unwell, then there were floods and an epidemic preempts ecological disaster. Things are moving very fast or not moving at all and I still don’t know what to do with my work.

 Is it a problem?     

 The word extension implies pausing. An open letter to the art world supposes an event that can be modified. There were plagues in the seventeenth century and Jan Both’s life was short. The text, talking house(s) is not commemorative and I have in mind Paul Chan’s reference to Waiting for Godot shortly after floods in New Orleans. There is a sense of things or something seems sensible at the time and I’m referring to one of the proposals. 

 The proposition involves translating parts of talking house(s) into seventeenth century Flemish and Italian and a performance of sorts. The other proposition is addressed to a group of psychoanalysts, positing dreams that aren’t Freudian or Lacanian. I'm already making the case for this second proposition.  


Christopher Sands, still for peripheral, 2020  

Christopher Sands, Ruth, 4 July 2010



   what I've done here

 I make reference to proposals and the proposals look more like a testimony in the second part of this open letter to a group of artists and Lacanian analysts. The proposals and text follow an unpublished book size text and some videos can be seen on both websites. I would like to start showing work in due course, but want to begin conversations surrounding this work and other work.

 My partner Ruth died at the end of 2014 and I've spent time coming on with new work, but there's only so much that's possible working on my own or in isolation. 

CS. March 2020



© Christopher Sands 2017