tomas

First and last conjoined (Plagiarist poem #4; Part 1)

2009-10-17T15:17:00.000-07:00

DH Lawrence – Lady Chatterley’s Lover
Ours is a tragic age, a little droopingly, but with a hopeful heart.

Joseph Conrad – Heart of Darkness
The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without of the earth flowed sombre under an overcast sky – seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.

Bob Dylan – Blonde on Blonde
Well, they’ll stone you when, should I wait?

Herman Melville – Moby Dick; or the Whale
Etymology supplied by a late consumptive retracing search after her missing children, only found another orphan.

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra – Don Quixote
At a certain village in La Mancha, which I shall not name, there lived not long ago one of those adieu.

Homer – The Iliad
The Wrath of Achilles is my theme, that fatal wrath which, in fulfilment of the will of Zeus, brought the Achaeans so much of Hector, tamer of Horses.

Karl Marx & Friedrich Engels – The Communist Manifesto
A spectre is haunting Europe - all countries, unite!

Charles Darwin – The Origin of Species
When we compare the individuals of the same variety or sub-variety of our older cultivated plants and animals, one of the first points which strikes planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved.

Lewis Carroll – Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
All in the golden afternoon full leisurely we glide; for both our oars, with little skill, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale; perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago; and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.

Friedrich Nietzsche – The Antichrist
-Let us look one all values.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – The Hound of the Baskervilles
Mr Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those we can stop at Marcini’s for a little dinner on the way?

Eyes: Giulia

2009-08-03T04:26:00.001-07:00

Eyes: Kelly

2009-08-02T13:12:00.000-07:00

Ward (plagiarist poem #3)

2009-06-29T14:54:00.000-07:00

Ward
with a ears. If we cry of quivered SPRING
Then is the indi-was two AFTERNOON
hidden in shadow me, the men phantasmagorial, and burning the right WATER-MARK!
inundating. The tail foreground are. A shirt, they are all standing over interesting SHOP
exactitude all he could statements. The flame. He, mellow, blubbery, for a while.in a little getting hickory had found Mele was written in Jordan, but growing up growths, ass of their backs. belt my CRONSTADT
famished cat, centre and know what sitting here. A fact. seldom. LIFE…
lost my. I hear. The round, no division, her head his foot. diseases. well I know Tallahassee, where leopards come IN CHINA
cigarette lines, street com-it; I the sky I edged a toe-nail know that I olive, become a BURLESK
She remembered, choice of two of music, dying day dared to I hear MANIAC
their ass! and lay

(A flip-book reading of Henry Miller's Black Spring)

Westminster Abbey

2009-06-04T03:56:00.001-07:00

Light Flowers

2009-05-23T12:47:00.000-07:00

Piccadilly Circus

2009-05-12T14:25:00.000-07:00

Trafalgar Square

2009-05-12T14:22:00.000-07:00

Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman!

2009-04-24T03:57:00.000-07:00

Music and video by the My, oh my! collective:
Andrew Burgess
Tomas Tokle
Nane Daroc

Eyes: Giulia

2009-03-25T15:52:00.001-07:00

Eyes: Kelly

2009-03-25T15:51:00.001-07:00

Eyes: Sisi

2009-03-25T15:49:00.002-07:00

Eyes: Corinne

2009-03-25T15:49:00.001-07:00

Eyes: John

2009-03-25T15:44:00.001-07:00

Eyes: Bimba

2009-03-25T15:42:00.000-07:00

Eyes: Deva

2009-03-25T15:38:00.001-07:00

Eyes: Toby

2009-03-25T15:36:00.000-07:00

Coming in from Loucivennes (plagiarist poem #2)

2008-12-22T09:18:00.000-08:00

Coming in from Loucivennes.... He could say no more. At the bar there was such a crush that the liquor ran out three times and emergency rations had to be rushed in by a squad of four flying lushes. Boy, did she hit the ceiling. Why get up and repeat yesterday’s song and dance? Once I did it and she got a butcher knife and chased me out of the apartment. Research is also required, apart from music, into instruments and appliances which, based upon special combinations or new alloys of metal, can attain a new range and compass, producing sounds or noises that are unbearably piercing. They no longer live here. The last two demands were hard to meet for Moscow. My fingers clawed the grass. I put his shoes on (for him). This put Israel outside of Iran’s own definition of its sphere of influence. Here, the chosen individuals, sometimes specially fed to be restored to their physical normality, were subjected to long immersions in freezing water. Through the continuous development of machinic labour, multiplied by the information revolution, productive forces can make available an increasing amount of time for potential human activity. Jack Arthur happens to be one of the most delightful producers in Hollywood. You dreamed of an octopus. What would they do after that? She figured it was one of her regulars. There are only weeks left, she thought. They read, they look out of the window at the sky… I didn’t think I would let things happen just as she had arranged. She was something, Sky was. “Well, you can today.” “It’s true. They were lovely.” Or maybe he would not have to find a job; he was pleased to hear the poet say he was writing a novel. How stripped of sanctity, wrote V. S. Naipaul, when a room, once intimate, becomes mere space. The editors will share with their readers some knowledge that the readers do not possess. And to this question they have only one answer; yes

Portraits

2008-12-21T13:50:00.000-08:00

Eleonora

Tania

Eleonora

Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 9)

2008-12-14T11:15:00.000-08:00

9: Weidemann

When I try to remember my childhood, all I can see is a picture of a firefighter running into a burning forest with a plastic watering can.

And So I Went Through That Window

2007-10-20T08:46:00.000-07:00

1168

2007-09-19T14:01:00.000-07:00

Eyes: Eleonora

2007-06-29T20:33:00.000-07:00

Trekkspillmusikk

2007-06-17T12:44:00.000-07:00

Video and music by the My, oh my! collective:
Robin Rowan
Eleonora Giglione
Tomas Tokle
Emily Keen

Dark Side of the Road

2007-04-30T02:37:00.000-07:00

Minute

2007-04-22T14:42:00.000-07:00

Frozen Sun Over The Maghreb

2007-04-20T11:33:00.000-07:00

Nedecta

2007-03-21T12:58:00.000-07:00

(lost)

2007-03-16T15:22:00.000-07:00

(lost)

An installation piece engaging with the myspace.com user interface.

Readily Read

2007-02-22T11:09:00.000-08:00

I dare not speak of red deer
of reindeer
of the stag that got away

of the running of the stream
water
pure and true
now red
now read
always dear
sometimes somewhere else
though never anywhere in particular
not the city
not this city
not the lights of neon

too fond to understand
or to stand under the wonder of standing without falling
failing to understand
though failing to fall
a failure failed in failing
file Fife under stand
life lived above or stood under Fife
or not at all

filed fail above as failed file below
the bow that bellows the arrow swallows and delivers the enflamed ferret to the red deer

the bent reeds allow passage
but could be read as rock
but not red
merely a pebble
though
vanished in the reeds
never again to appear
as a pair of gulls circle above

nothing is ever quite what it seems
as a pear would appear to a pair of parrots…
as a tear would attire a tear in a carrot…

Bowties

2007-02-21T11:04:00.000-08:00

When the Ageing Minister Becomes the Minister of the Ageing (live)

2007-01-21T07:39:00.000-08:00

The My, oh my! collective playing live.

Performers:
Jenny Walker
Robin Rowan
Tomas Tokle
Andrew Burgess

Camera:
Anna Maria Pinaka

Untitanim

2006-10-28T10:10:00.000-07:00

My, oh my!

2006-08-04T19:57:00.000-07:00

Performed by My, oh my!
(Andrew Burgess, Emily Keen, Robin Rowan, Sukhjeet Takhar, Tomas Tokle)

Out of Reach

2006-06-09T04:06:00.000-07:00

Umbrae Lucidum

2006-05-21T06:25:00.000-07:00

50

2006-04-09T15:40:00.000-07:00

MAC3001A3011

2006-01-22T11:47:00.000-08:00

MAC3001A3021

2006-01-12T07:18:00.000-08:00

Collaboration with Andrew Burgess and Anna Maria Pinaka.

MAC3001A30122

2006-01-09T14:20:00.000-08:00

Collaboration with Andrew Burgess and Anna Maria Pinaka.

SwissRe Tower

2005-10-09T15:32:00.000-07:00

NatWest Tower

2005-10-09T03:57:00.000-07:00

Happy Little Accident

2005-06-01T07:29:00.000-07:00

While the City is Asleep

2005-05-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

Transverse, Passing From Side to Side, Falling Athwart

2005-05-22T11:41:00.000-07:00

Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 5)

2005-05-09T04:12:00.000-07:00

5: Cold and empty

Where did it go? It’s vanished again. I really don’t have the patience for this kind of game any longer. I can’t stand it when it does that. But if I leave it alone for a while it will probably come back out. It always does. So, I venture back down to the living room.

The living room is dark and menacing. Cold and empty. I can’t see it, but I know that in the corner the TV’s staring at me. I’ve always had an animosity towards that thing. And I know that the feeling is mutual. Even now, in complete darkness, can I sense its disgusting neon glare. I fall down into the sofa and try to force the ugly presence out of my head. I know it’s futile, but I had to give it a try.

I fumble in the dark for the remote, and turn on the TV. It comes to life in a flash of colours. Red, blue, green, purple, red, black, violet, green, yellow, indigo, white, orange, purple, pink. I can’t seem to remember which is which anymore, but it doesn’t really matter. Or does it? I know there is an answer to that question somewhere, but I can’t be bothered to go find it. Nothing seems to matter anymore. I don’t think it’s supposed to be like this. I wonder what went wrong…

There is nothing on…

Just a blur…

Everything has seemed to fade into a blur lately. Something has gone wrong there too.

Well, now.

If I concentrate very hard on the colours, then maybe the will yield into something. Something meaningful…

No…

It doesn’t work.

Tarot

2005-03-02T12:37:00.000-08:00

Frolin

2005-03-02T11:52:00.000-08:00

Un Estudio a Sangre Fría

2005-02-22T12:32:00.000-08:00

Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 2)

2005-02-21T07:34:00.000-08:00

2: Ich gebe die Präparate in den Briefkasten.

The story continues in whichever direction it chooses. There is no editorial hand presiding over it. I could not have controlled it if I wanted to. Spiralling softly down the side. Forever out of control.

I don’t know where it comes from. I’ve never seen it arrive. But I know that it’s still there. It will never depart. Once conjured, it can never be undone. Hardly an uplifting thought. But still, the only thought left to me at this moment.

Nobody knows I’m here. To be on the safe side, I don’t even know where ‘here’ is. I guess the most reasonable thing to do would be to go somewhere else.

Fractal video

2005-01-21T06:24:00.000-08:00

Atony

2004-11-26T08:43:00.000-08:00

Ma Vie En Rose

2004-11-21T07:42:00.000-08:00

Collaboration with Anna Maria Pinaka and Julia Scheele.

Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 8)

2004-05-21T12:40:00.000-07:00

8: This must not be seen as a quantitative opposition, or as a mythological structure.

This whole chapter is written between the lines.

Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 15)

2004-04-06T14:07:00.000-07:00

15: Phasing the mirror

I notice that the TV’s on again. Fuck! Didn’t I just turn that thing off? I search around me for the remote, but can’t find it anywhere. I try shouting at it a couple of times, but there is not even the slightest reaction. O.K. then… I try to focus on the pictures being sent into the room by the ugly black box.

After a couple of seconds I give up. It’s just an endless blur of shifting colours, overlapping, immersing into one another. Has there ever been anything else? Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice tries to tell me there has, but I ignore it. “Ignore it, and it will eventually go away.” Right?

I look around me again, for the remote. Find a pen and throw it at the TV. It bounces off the screen. Nothing happens. Fuck it! I close my eyes, lay back and fall asleep.

The TV’s still on when I wake up. Still with the same endless blur of indistinguishable colours. Damn that thing! Damn it straight to hell! I get up, and noticing that my balance is a bit off key, I fall forward over the table and hit my head on something hard.

Meditations on Film 4: Brown Study

2004-03-22T11:17:00.000-08:00

Meditations on Film 3: Sleeping in the Sun

2004-03-21T14:19:00.000-08:00

Meditations on Film 1: A Pink Flamingo's Trail of Footsteps in the Sand

2004-03-21T07:44:00.000-08:00

Meditations on Film 5: Ebb and Flow

2004-03-12T07:23:00.000-08:00

Meditations on Film 2: Obscure

2004-03-09T04:27:00.000-08:00

Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 25)

2004-02-23T09:34:00.000-08:00

25: Atony

“Keep on digging, my son. And you will find it eventually.” He said.

But I’m losing hope. I can see the sunlight fail, and dark night will soon overcome us. I look out of my hole, at the face above me. Always with that shining smile. Always pushing me on to take the next step. Always picking me up when I’ve fallen. I make to find a way to climb up to him, but I can’t find any. I look up again, and he’s gone.

I try to raise my voice, but I can’t make a sound. The effort wares me out and I sink back into the darkness.

Communications

2004-02-09T04:31:00.000-08:00

Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 7)

2004-01-21T11:05:00.000-08:00

7: Knitting

When I get home there’s a girl sitting in my room. In the middle of the floor, feverishly knitting. She doesn’t notice me. She’s so caught up with her work. I ignore her as well. “The best thing is to ignore it,” my friend used to say. “and it will eventually go away.” I wonder what he is doing these days. I haven’t seen him since I moved away from the old country. He used to take my hand and gently say “No.” when I would be throwing paper out the window again. He never liked me doing that. Throwing it on the fire was okay, but not out the window. I always wondered why…

I tear a piece of paper from a drawing of an eye, and write as best I can:

WHERE YOU AT NOW

I want to put in a question-mark, but can’t remember which way it turns. So I leave it out.

I look up at the girl, but she doesn’t seem to notice me. I start ignoring her again. It doesn’t seem to work. I go to bed, but the sound of her energetic knitting keeps me awake!

I wake up, realising that I’d just fallen asleep. I am a bit startled by this discovery. Until I realise that the crying of the knitting-pins has ceased. I turn on the light, and find the girl fast asleep in the corner. Her newly knitted blanket tucked around her.

After a while you kind of get used to it.

4.15

2003-09-21T06:48:00.000-07:00

Collaboration with Ben Wright.

138

2001-12-02T04:24:00.000-08:00

Outstallation

2001-07-16T15:05:00.000-07:00

A Protest Poem

1999-11-16T14:58:00.000-08:00

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