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Ian Law

to help a small group of people
who live nowhere

Working with paint and pencils, I try to help a small group of people who live nowhere. They are vessels of thought and dislocation, who rarely do anything but stand there for me. I am interested in their unreality, and their connections with the world outside them.

Below are some of the observed situations and words of the people found here.

 

“A man laughed with his face against
the glass. He'd written Caucasian
on her forehead.

And she was walking round looking
for some water.”

The drunkard recalling
the night he met his wife.

 

“The concubine keeps the single bed slightly away from the wall and slightly further from the man she occupies with.

She goes out for walks with this woman
she knows they met when they both
had scratches.

Both were wearing plain shirts.
The concubine was in culottes the other
just the shirt worn long.”

An elderly lady at her
net-curtained window.

 

“I am wet, sat at her table.
She ate in front of me and had none left of it.

I like the plate though

not white.

It always rains on when I go to see her,
I won't go anymore after today.
She never said much and I never did because I can't look in her eyes.

I end up looking at her greasy forehead
and she doesn't like that

and walks to the side of the room.

I stumble sorry.”

Talking to a fisherman.

 

“Today my hand was sat on by a medium dog.
It was yellowish and sat there. Pinky tongue.
A smoker's albino. Happy to see without seeing through the smoke and
orange curtains.”

Arthur in conversation.

 

“Her thin voice sings to the dark.

His deeper, a soft meander
busy listening to her insides
call out

neck veins
shaking arms
no grass.
She lands back on the ground.

Spittle on her chin.”

Observing a couple on the hill.