|
Chronicles of the Jiggling Miserlou'ın Octosquid - ACT
3
Anchoring Koşe : Phonetic Exploration | [deep-diving ~
er turan]
click on the picture to watch it on youtube
SONGLINE: Zeki Müren ~
Yaralı Gönül, Miserlou
YER: Cold Finger, Anchorage
>>> abojuice*R*,
cultural heritage, design, language documentation : phonetic refinement
0067 zeki C | 0:58 | 5 May 2021
>>>*! chain-linked item : study series, companion
characters, namesake
Summary of Observations: Yaralı Gönül
Study - ACT 3 | [deep-diving ~ er turan]
The core language notes for
this series reside within ACT 1
Writing Context:
This was created
during winter near a turn-off for a road leading to Lake Lyle in Rydal.
The [abojuice] was an intangible phenomenon I
sensed in the environment around that region, which seemed to osmose with
my creativity, occasionally feeling like a narcotic of sorts. I haven't
been able to conclusively identify its cause, although a blood test did
reveal evidence of an allergy. I loosely linked it to something in the
damp air, like spores, since I have a known intolerance to mushrooms.
Living with untreated tank water added to the uncertainty. I wasn't sure
if contaminants were entering the water supply or if it was related to
being downwind from chemical spraying in the neighbouring state forest. My
water supply was highly acidic, corroding copper pipes and also turning
the water blue. I perceived excess copper-related links, because it was
used to treat the garden a lot, but also connected to the element through
heritage (lots of copper art) ~ which influenced my art production through
painting & ceramics.
While I couldn't pinpoint the exact cause of
the phenomenon, I was aware of a biochemical influence coming from the
bush, which wasn't present in urban environments. The phenomenon
intensified after periods of rain or high humidity. The mountain humidity
at higher altitudes (1000-1100m) felt very different from Sydney's (23m)
atmosphere; it was as if the air was thicker with ozone, making it feel
like I was breathing water. There seemed to be less need to hydrate
compared to Sydney. The excessive damp made the house sweat, and I could
physically sense how high the water table was beneath the earth. It felt
like breathing in steam or vapour oozing from the ground after a sunny
shower, mixing with the scent of other eucalypt VOCs & sweet-toned
moulds'n'mosses. In concrete urban jungles, the water is often funneled
through drains and doesnit pool like a boggy swamp as it did in the bush.
That's why I called it [abojuice]--| because of
how my skin was getting coated with a clammy substance that was mixing or
oozing from the earth. It felt like a watery moisturiser that didn't dry
up. Internal humidity fluctuated between 58-62% but tended to peak towards
68-72% during these events. It was impossible to dry clothes outdoors.
I felt self-conscious attempting to explain the phenomenon of
[abojuice], as I wasnit really ready to
address that subject here--| though I can acknowledge why or how it was
appropriate (or wanted to intrude) like this. The experience felt
undeniably indigenous against my skin and deeply connected to the type of
environment I was in. Walking barefoot on the soil or gravel, I sensed my
feet absorbing it. It often felt like my skin was
«drinking» the dampness around me. My skin was satiated. Another
version of the damp phenomena was expressed as «The
Bedknobs & Broomsticks Effect», which was articulated in other
pieces a few years later. The experience on the land often felt like the
underwater swimming scene in that musical. It was a surreal Disney
Fantasia when the massive plumes of midges and insects started to swarm.
It was like an ocean, swimming with swarms of flickering insects and
dancing mushrooms that made me allergic. There were times when the excess
damp made me wonder if I was developing gills--| just because of how it
felt like my skin and lungs were breathing this mountain air, saturated
with water.
I donit feel ready to delve into the motif of the
anchor(s) in too much detail here, though I've never found a place to
anchor with it. I experience Turk'ish as something buried--| or perhaps
drowned--| underwater. I can't breathe underwater. It's as though I need to
approach this language similar to scuba diving--| or that resonates with
how I perceive the distance and constraints I need to tackle in order to
make a substantial connection. I have my fishy companion,
>>>
Sarpa, who I can channel
through, and she can help me stay submerged longer, just because she is a
fish. I also have >>>
my fisherman--| who might represent the equivalent of a thesaurus and
dictionary--| because he can help me go fishing for the words that live in
the ocean. I can swim with the language, but I can't live with it like a
fish, because my skin will prune up. The video animation carries this
deep-dive quality of playing underwater.
There was a need to note the
{er-turan snake featured in videos 2 and
3. It feels like it represents aspects of language that remain on the
land-dwelling side of the picture. The snake's body was indigenous to this
land, while the pattern printed on its back came from
{er_turan. That visual motif resonates with [home]. The design
originates from home. Home is where I see the echo of this design (and
itis not the only one of its kind). It's home because I recognise it. I
know of it. I've crossed paths with it before. I've seen it before.
In this context, the word [design] swings
more French, leaning toward the sound of «desen»,
which is the term I reach for to communicate
«pattern». The concept of design--| through the Turkic half of
me--| was acquired at a later age. [desen]
fused to mean/communicate → [pattern]. The
snake functioned as a grounding guide, signifying how my language has
swung N/NE of the Caspian Sea, passing through Azerbaijan and heading
toward Kazakiistan and further east. It felt like it was a signal,
or that a critical link
had been established. Others who know or recognise the pattern will
understand that I've made contact and crossed paths with it.
Throughout this process, my mind keeps returning to a drawing I once did
that expressed the bilingual state. In the illustration, Iim fishing for
Turkish words underwater from a boat. It captured the experience of
reaching for a thesaurus to find a Turkish word, only to realise it often
didnit exist or lacked the nuance I needed, which was present in English.
The method for achieving nuance in either language differs significantly.
If I find that picture someday, Iill need to file it here. It should
be tagged with keywords like BOAT, TURKISH, ENGLISH, DICTIONARY,
THESAURUS, WATER SCENE, ANCHOR--| or linked to some other «gone-fishing»
space, so I can easily revisit this spot again in the future. HOOKED. LOST
& FOUND. >>>*!
El'lerim pek buz'lu, bu akşağmın şu anda'sında. Work in
progress. There was a need to start documenting the
R's. I won't have the time to address it
all the time in future, but it's necessary for me to start docking them.
~iD-ENTiTY
>>> ACT 1 -
[inadı inat, göttü iki kanat]
>>> ACT 2 -
[yallah tazyixq] YOU ARE HERE
>>>*! ACT 3 - [deep-diving ~ er turan]
>>>
companion:
Sarpa
>>>
companion:
my fisherman
>>> namesake:
sokudura series
~ My Name Is Ayça, get used to it
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