“Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn’t want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn’t want them back.” – Krapp’s final words, in the play Krapp’s Last Tape, by Samuel Beckett.
It’s awkward when one can’t work out how to spin a photo for this blogpost, but we did at least manage to spin the wheel at last night’s third movement of The Symphony of Awkward at the Urban Writers House. For this rendition we employed bingology as method, each round delivering a number that was duly translated into a date. Each of us then presented a contribution from her archive corresponding to said date, so that assorted diary entries, childhood art works and photographs were patched together into a kind of faulty fugue. We still don’t know where we are going with this, but there is something so compelling about our experiments that we shall continue to meet, and to diarise our sessions as well, towards some kind of co-created research outcome, and possibly, in due course, a public event.