#laneymannion

My practice is about language and its uses. 

For my 2018/2019 masters project, in social practice and the creative environment In limerick school of art and design.

 I will be investigating and building my project around language and its uses, communication and miscommunication, I hope to build the transcended space of physical speech, dialogue without words. 

I aim  to interview people throughout the west coast of Ireland, gathering stories, with the aim of gaining an insight in to contemporary dialogue in all its guises throughout urban and rural areas. 

Expanding my practice with an investigation of language development in modern ireland.

the importance of my project is its truth seeking. it is gathering and asking questions of why?

It is considering aspects of culture and identity. 

In a world so ingrained with mass media consumption, the story is becoming singular it is losing its nuances Are we being goaded into a way of thinking without question?

 I aim to show different perspectives through my artistic practice, by listening to others stories, sharing folk cultures. homogeneous likeness but separated.

 cultural morphic resonance in action  

I propose to question post- truth ideology in contemporary Ireland around home and place. I aim to investigate the language surrounding the current political debates in ireland.

 I will be a "Nosebody" poking my nose into and questioning contemporary negative narratives, which do not seek solutions. I aim to be a social commentator narrating a new social perspective, through the gathering of stories.  

the main theory I will be using through out this project is the carnivalesque theory mikhail bakhtin, I hope to test out the transcended space the level playing field. 

with consideration of other writings on perception and uncertainty. 

“the primacy of perception” Maurice Merleau Ponty

They sit out there on the waters edge and I watch them

heavy metalers distinguished by there biker jackets heavy boots smoking fags

Im inside the hunt museum there is a massive old old tree right in front of my view i wonder how old it is, im not interested in the ecology today 

Distracted by heavy metalers drinking cans its 12pm on a thursday afternoon their supping on cans of druids 

its an icy chill and the branches are nearly naked im sipping on coffee drawing conclusions theres a hint of blue in the sky i doubt they notice the surrounds as they face each other smoking fags at 12pm on a thursday afternoon 

a white terrier is walked by a well wrapped up man 

strolls past and back again past heavy metalers drinking can by the shannon 12pm thursday afternoon 

The king that lost his crow, been seeing a lot of crows, on my walks around the city, stomping out stress processing of information. connecting dots watching big machines crunch big metal mountains at the docks noise and spray and celtic explorers. skimming pebbles on the beach while sticking sand in my socks. wind swept face, freeze the air in my mind bubbling chaotic. 

 what does the crow symbolize? why am I seeing so many fucking crows?. Superstition is ingrained in me, my grandfather truly believed in fairies, it bares a mark of respect for the natural world, its power and changeability. stems from Greek mythology, the Greeks believed in today's terms some wacky shit. 

In Celtic mythology, the Morrighan is known as a goddess of battle and war and would often appear in the form of a crow, in later years she became the  bain sidhe or to you and me the banshee.  

  "I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. ... And I believe that love is stronger than death."  Robert Fulghum 

myth is more powerful it was known by such a great amount of people as a symbol of something, history is often written down and forgotten.

    we live in this flighty effervescent transient symbols and notions..

  into the Pedagogy of Hope stepping into the unknown taking risks ? 

sure why fucking not

  “No one leaves his or her world without being transfixed by its roots, or with a vacuum for a soul. We carry with us the memory of many fabrics, a self soaked in our history, our culture; a memory, sometimes scattered, sometimes sharp and clear, of the streets of our childhood, of our adolescence; the reminiscence of something distant that suddenly stands out before us, in us, a shy gesture, an open hand, a smile lost in time and misunderstanding, a sentence, a simple sentence, possibly now forgotten by the one who said it. A word for so long a time attempted and never spoken, always stifled in inhibition, in the fear of being rejected- which as it implies a lack of confidence in ourselves, also means refusal to risk.”  Paulo Freire

or do we remain in a poetry of indifference 

Hushed tones ones of seriousness, illness and death. 

 There is a low tone of people speaking things they would rather not utter. 

It is amplified over the phone by the holding of breath and sharp pauses between words,

forced out 

it is a lowering of tone to the gentlest compassionate flow

 it is a sadness, 

it holds the most unbelievable force of not wanting to say the words at all.

Tone of voice triggers a panic attack, illogical reaction.

Learning the phonetics of something bad happening.

I collected myself up off the ground gathered the pieces and took off to the hill to see dizzy new heights perspective. 

I opened my eyes seen my life as beautiful, seen how blessed I was to be alive and living, when so many had no choice. I seen that I was alive, a strange thing to see when living.

 Our realities are illusions, and we are indeed the conjures. If the energy was used wisely, then the illusion is made to be what ever your brain collects and connects.

Our experiences guide us, so guide your self to living fully and wide eyed, if there is no purpose then admit defeat? no embrace the distance hoard views and conversations, hoard beauty, your beauty, hoard the sunrise, the sunset, the way the winds blow, the way your hair sprouts out of your head what a marvel it is. The sublimation of matter and the grandeur of life and being.

I was indeed wasting it away with worries. battling myself everyday putting my self in a pit of despair at the sadness of living, sorrow is built into the contract of life, my heart was broken with grief, lost moments, lost words, time not used and then its taken. 

Money comes and goes but once time is gone its gone, stop chasing and have faith in your dreams, live for the connection with everything around you, keep the eyes so wide you don’t miss the rain drops chasing each other on the window, the shooting stars, the black looming clouds, the people who give you a piece of themselves willingly, their time is precious and they share it with you.

Remember to see when your looking, whats presented to you might not be what your looking for, but need to view. 

Remember the hurdles aren’t just for the Olympic games, they are mental and torturing and meant to be jumped over as best you can they will still trip you up.