The House.
quite regularly, i get requests for copies of performance
pieces, samplers, gig recordings, pictures, posters
and so forth.
the house was written way back when i lived in london
as a response to many bad things happening at the time
in bermondsey.
i'd strung together a series of ideas surrounding the
changes being forced upon the community that had kept
the area alive.
money was moving in.
real people were being shunted out.
the shout was loud but few listened.
but the people who listened were the people who mattered.
to me.
the area now? closed doors. new history.
the house changes often, like it should.
but today i still see the same thing happening over and over.
after a recent performance i received a request once again,
for the house.
the house
by
steve coel
row after row after row
all completely empty.
once real people lived in them.
not now.
not anymore.
they're not nice houses.
the rooms are small,
the stairs narrow,
and the walls
too thin.
tiny garden,
busy road,
busy and dangerous.
the house is cold, damp.
windows rot
water drips everywhere.
floorboards warp and sag.
the house is twenty years old.
[ from the fingers give lace [ 1997 ] - An 11.59
Publication ]
house
steve coel
house
steve coel
The audience today is large.
the shout, still loud, probably louder.
steve coel
An 11.59 Publication
Enqiries: an1159publication@gmail.com
