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Gini: 'Creatives in Con.Text' - disability arts online
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Disability Arts Online

Endelig - progress / 24 March 2013

In the process of getting in 'People Like You' to Salisbury Arts Centre, I was delighted to meet Liz Crow's tech team who made a very professional job of setting up her Bedding Out installation and who will be there masterminding Bedding Out - Live.  At some point in the day, and during the consumption of quantities (at least on my part) of chocolate cake, we had the kind of conversation I dream of. The one about presenting Con.Text creatively on DAO and since Trish was part of this conversation it has Real Possibilities. We agreed that I would produce a project copy of the Secret Scroll, with story board.

This week I finally succumbed to a course of antibiotics for an ear infection that has bugged me since the beginning of the year and, feeling low and unwell, decided that now is the perfect time for some computer catch-up. I carefully save and close all existing work in progress and open up Endelig, the Secret Scroll Con.Text file. This is a big file, 235 M, and that is after some work has already been done to reduce it.

Because Con.Text pieces also need to be print quality they start with the potential to be enormous, but equally, once they have been created, it then becomes possible, by rationalising and reducing some of the options as well as the number of pixels, to greatly reduce the size of the file. After some concentrated effort, it currently weighs in at 14 M. I can possibly do better, but now worry I may have removed some potentially useful layer information.

Today I wanted to email one of the items I had carefully saved earlier in the week, but can find absolutely no trace of any of them on my computer, not even as temporary files, in spite of autosave.

I'm getting used to this surreal dance with the virtual reality of what of I do electronically. My saving habits are in danger of becoming obsessive, but how else can I attempt to be in control?

And I really do want the Secret Scroll project to happen.

 

Am I heading for the Ta-Da moment?

I have vision of bringing my prodigy-child

by the hand. Small hand resting lightly on mine,

to this place of crowd surround. Eye of a

wordstorm, child fragile

silence. And where do I go?

Red-cloaked, abandoned

childlike reflects

on the circle,

red to the wolf

where they both begin

the journey towards grandmother.

My pen crawls over other paper

but I know there will be no story

unless I uncover the woodsman.

The man with the axe.