{"id":688,"date":"2017-09-01T09:14:40","date_gmt":"2017-09-01T09:14:40","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/?page_id=688"},"modified":"2017-09-07T14:02:48","modified_gmt":"2017-09-07T14:02:48","slug":"negative-spaces-postcards-home-by-tom-ottway","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/place\/negative-spaces-postcards-home-by-tom-ottway\/","title":{"rendered":"Negative Spaces: Postcards Home by Tom Ottway"},"content":{"rendered":"

2 am or so \u2013 2 August 2017 Villa Tancotes, Mallorca<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019m too warm to sleep and go to the kitchen to get water, wrapped in just a towel. Tricked by my mind that it\u2019s time to get up, it\u2019s today I take you back to the airport. I secretly hope you too will be up, and we\u2019ll talk. But you\u2019re not, so I pick up a pen, still full of Hot Milk <\/em>and Cixous. Who will ”break the old circuits” …<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

We exist within the\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

tiniest of tolerances<\/em><\/p>\n

the thinnest range of<\/em><\/p>\n

temperatures<\/em><\/p>\n

One minute exalting in\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

a certain set of rays<\/em><\/p>\n

and then moaning moistly<\/em><\/p>\n

at another<\/em><\/p>\n

It\u2019s suddenly too much<\/em><\/p>\n

no fun anymore<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I love you, my mother<\/em><\/p>\n

My favourite irritant<\/em><\/p>\n

You are my sun<\/em><\/p>\n

I come to\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

and rail against<\/em><\/p>\n

for warmth<\/em><\/p>\n

You are my ranges<\/em><\/p>\n

the strangest and yet<\/em><\/p>\n

most familiar of heats<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019m from you and to you<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It needed saying, acknowledging.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I now speak to you everyday, like the sun, or its absence, on the phone \u2013 a line \u2013 to the point where I am defined by the rising and waxing, zenith and waning.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Today was strangely, ordinarily special.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A calm day, without kids,<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

full of us and our happy, joined up absence.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

less need to speak,<\/p>\n

more to chatter<\/p>\n

and natter<\/p>\n

drawing and<\/p>\n

painting.<\/p>\n

You showed me again how to mix<\/p>\n

to look differently<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

for<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

negative \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 spaces<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

to bring the light out<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I\u2019m awoken, worrying.<\/p>\n

About you, for you.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m mindful I need to express my appreciation<\/p>\n

of you, for you.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A precious re-source. It dawns on me \u2013 this lazy lump of holiday self, first sleeping well, and now in reverse, increasingly poorly, until I am wide awake now \u2013 being \u2018housed\u2019<\/p>\n

together these last few days, all of us, that my story of home is told in negative spaces, through you\u2026.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

My numb pain<\/p>\n

at my mother\u2019s raw pain has been at the back of my mind for 25\u2026 no 26 years.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It\u2019s anybody\u2019s story.<\/p>\n

It will be everybody\u2019s story.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I used to have the insulation;<\/p>\n

the protective range of heat and cool,<\/p>\n

engendering safety to allow me to be brutally, gently honest.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Coming here on holiday has been like repacking<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I am making home as I go<\/em><\/p>\n

Weaving it like a skin,<\/em><\/p>\n

filtering through it,\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

unfurling a skein,<\/em><\/p>\n

Your story, my story<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It was easy to tell my limited, four-walled-intense story of love-sex-bed-death when I was twenty-one.<\/p>\n

It is so much harder now at forty-six,<\/p>\n

my father\u2019s final age,<\/p>\n

to capture and retain<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

the essence of life and living\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

in the liquid experience\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

as it falls through my hands<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

language is liquid,\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

life liquid<\/em><\/p>\n

memory fluid\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

You are now a guest in our temporary, borrowed, holiday home.<\/p>\n

Still trying to pay you back for lending us some of your death money, which we lost playing at ideal homes.<\/p>\n

Now playing host, cooking for you for a token few days \u2013 a paltry return for the tens of thousands of yours.<\/p>\n

You no longer cook, you say.<\/p>\n

Driving you around, avoiding sharp bends and sudden drops, we visit the darkest, deepest cave.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u2026 A drop of water hits my nose. What does that droplet represent? A hundred years? A lifetime?<\/p>\n

I snap my family from below<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

brief palimpsest<\/p>\n

ancient walls<\/p>\n

ancient skin<\/p>\n

where we begin<\/p>\n

unravelling<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

paint and sing<\/em><\/p>\n

paint and sing<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

liquid voice<\/em><\/p>\n

noughts and ones<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

All of this is the source of my unease,<\/p>\n

of what needs saying,<\/p>\n

of the need to acknowledge,<\/p>\n

silently negotiate<\/p>\n

the negative spaces<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

You are here,<\/em><\/p>\n

everywhere,<\/em><\/p>\n

and there and there<\/em><\/p>\n

uncovering<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As we fill<\/em><\/p>\n

we erase<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And that is the conundrum\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

of home,<\/em><\/p>\n

of life of living<\/em><\/p>\n

the giving begets<\/em><\/p>\n

taking\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

the taking, forsaking<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[[The family accountant looking on from the sidelines, ticking, nightly-unplugging: \u00a0Off, off,\u00a0out, ou<\/em>t<\/em>]]<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The dwindling stock<\/p>\n

The last ravishes<\/p>\n

\u201cMum, did he really say to me in those last moments…<\/p>\n

Paint and sing<\/em><\/p>\n

Paint and sing<\/em><\/p>\n

… Or did I just imagine that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know\u201d, you say, eventually.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It is our story of loss<\/p>\n

And needs to be uncovered fully<\/p>\n

Fully recovered<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

listened to, recorded<\/p>\n

re-corded<\/em><\/p>\n

re-coded<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

From many angles, in many forms<\/p>\n

edited<\/p>\n

brought into life<\/p>\n

edere:<\/em> brought forth, produce, dare<\/p>\n

into existence<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

All images and drawings Tom Ottway 2017<\/p>\n

H\u00e9l\u00e8ne Cixous et al. \u201cThe Laugh of the Medusa.\u201d\u00a0Signs<\/em>, vol. 1, no. 4, 1976, pp. 875\u2013893.\u00a0JSTOR<\/em>, www.jstor.org\/stable\/3173239<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Deborah Levy Hot Milk<\/em> (2016)\u00a0Penguin<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[Back to Place<\/a>]<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

2 am or so \u2013 2 August 2017 Villa Tancotes, Mallorca I\u2019m too warm to sleep and go to the Continue ReadingNegative Spaces: Postcards Home by Tom Ottway<\/span>\u2192<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":15,"featured_media":0,"parent":219,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-688","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P90GIn-b6","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/688","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/15"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=688"}],"version-history":[{"count":21,"href":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/688\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":810,"href":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/688\/revisions\/810"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/219"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/lifewritingprojects\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=688"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}