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About the loss / lost project To contribute a story send it to me by e-mail Each piece of work is an inkjet print onto canvas. Most of them have a printed area of 70cm square, onto canvas 87cm x 120cm. Here is one example, I have presented the story next to it in larger type so you can read it. On the actual works, the story is printed underneath the map.
stories so far.... lost
country I was born and raised in London, England. I was raised by Arabic parents to speak and feel Arabic. I do. My mother was born and raised in Syria. My father, though originally from Libya, was born and raised in Palestine. Although I travel to Syria often and speak with a Syrian dialect I often times feel more Palestinian. It is in fact the loss of our country, Palestine, that has made me feel that it is my country. And so, to be philosophical, I only found it because it was lost to me. Palestine was taken from its people before I was born. The loss occurred in 1948 when Israeli forces, backed then by the British, took it away using force. Before the loss of land came the loss of life. Palestinians were murdered so their land could be taken from them. As a result of the loss of land came a loss of identity for many. I lost my virginity with my head in the dog bowl. I thought it would be more romantic than that. It was lost in Hoddesdon Herts (just off the A10). Behind pestellos nightclub, bury st edmunds, suffolk. stephanie lost her virginity and a shoe. she felt very stupid the next day back garden of walnut house, houghton gardens, ely, cambs. louisa aged 5 lost her belief in fairies after her dad cut the ivy from the tree. she was devastated and cried. a lot. I lost my credibility and self respect working for two years on a magazine about cross stich. [I just found
this on Google, nothing to do with me but...] My father wanted to go for a walk, he'd stopped walking due to his poor health, but after he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, he decided to get out more. We talked about how he wanted his funeral to be, or rather he talked and I made assenting noises as I tried not to let me see him crying. Ridgetown, Ontario, Canada May 2002. When I was 11 or 12 I acquired a second hand cat. Originally he had belonged to my sister but she soon tired him and he became mine. He was an un neutered ginger tom called Fred. Being mine made him exceptional and this was re enforced by a near fatal road accident which left him with a paralysed tail. It hung lifelessly and was covered in mud, brambles and shit. However it had no ill effects on his feline behaviour. Being in possession of a complete set of balls meant that he went missing from the farm on a fairly regular basis. Initially I was unconcerned by these absences but they became longer and longer. Once, during the long hot summer of 76 he disappeared for six weeks. The fear that he might not come back drove me to place an advert in the parish news. To my relief he returned covered in fleas and meowing loudly. I remember being intensely happy. Two years later I went to Australia and I left strict instructions that he was to be looked after. He did his usual thing and cleared off. Only this time he never came back. The anguish that I felt one my mother told me is something Ill never forget. She said it in a letter and being away made it infinitely worse. I remember the sleeplessness and the anxiety that only small children suffer. The intensity of that loss. The catness of that cat. Its something I've never really got over. The first miscarriage started in Ikea. I was with my mother, I was panicking so we had to get a taxi home. As it was a weekend the doctor wouldn't come out to see me so we had to wait for the first appointment at the ante-natal clinic on the Monday, who sent us to the GP, who sent us to the hospital by which time it was all over. I remember feeling the pains of the second miscarriage when we were in the car going over Prince Street bridge on the way to the Watershed to see a film. The third one happened in St Michael's Hospital under general anaesthetic, almost exactly two years after the first one. It was a hot sunny day and afterwards we went to the supermarket. With the fourth one, I found out I was pregnant the day after my father died. We buried him, and at the funeral I told my mother I was pregnant again. This one should have lived, because my dad had died. But I lost it two weeks later. I never grieved for the lost baby enough because I was grieving for my dad, and I never grieved enough for him because I was greiving the lost baby. But I got sympathy cards about my Dad, but none for the baby. Bristol, UK - Monday, November 26, 2001 at 7:00:35 PM I lost someone just after I found them in Bristol. She was loud and brightly coloured, screaming around the city whilst looking southward. Then she was gone but I hadn’t lost her, it took nearly two years until I could no longer keep up with her movements, she was immersed in London and no longer thought about looking westward. Now she is entrenched in her world and she doesn’t give a thought to me. Not that I’m bitter, but I am. I didn’t really want to lose her… I just couldn’t keep up with her. Now I am the one feeling lost, alone. It happened during my army serves in the Israeli army. I was 19 years old. I received a phone call from my cosine, telling me that Eddy's plane has crashed and Eddy got killed. She said that they are coming to pick me up and take me to another army base, where L., my best friend, was serving at the time. Eddy was L's boyfriend. I immediately went to pack my things and my roommate, who heard the news, put on Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata to comfort me. Later that evening a car arrived with my cosine and other mutual friends of us and Eddy. We drove to L's base, which was at the north. When we finally got there it was late at night and we decided not to wake her up. Instead, we waited all night, not sleeping at all. Early next morning we broke the news to L. As we were all in a state of confusion and bewilderment we took L and drove off in the wrong direction. We realized where we were only when my cosine recognized the Lebanese village from the army maps in her work. We quickly turned and drove back towards the Israeli border. There, we were stopped, questioned and finally drove off to Tel-Aviv. It sounds corny, but hurts just the same: I went to visit a friend abroad, in a country I barely knew. We had been friends for almost 3 years and we had a great week After 5 months I went again;after the 2nd invitation. Emails, phonecalls and secrecies in abundance. After the feelings that had blossomed, the friend told me about the new found love...Okay, I was happy for my friend and I would still be "welcome" in my friends mailbox "for years to come." I was pleased with that; we talked and I was (sort of) okay, knowing I would still have a much valued friend... until I arrived home. No emails, no replies, phone put on the hook when the friend heard my voice or saw my number...what had I done wrong..? I gained a friend and lost a friend. I lost self esteem; something I had gained by going abroad. I still have that, but I lost something I knew I always had...I guess it s called trust and faith. It s not in my nature to distrust, but it s different from now on... I lost something, and my heart has lost another little corner. Like an apple that has one rotten spot: I lost some of my purity. It feels like a little bit of me is dead, gone, perished. lincoln , USA
- Sunday, November 11, 2001 at 11:12:41 PM I lost all my hope for
a decent career because it was beaten out of me in Jr. High School
and no one cared and so I had to sort it out for myself which took
many years and I have never felt comfortable in public or places
like schools and so my institutional education suffered and my future
prospects are not so prospective. Rick - <> , - Thursday, May 16, 2002 at 8:56:14 AM Place: Wisbech, East Anglia,UK Time: about 1978 The first time I remember losing something. It was a matchbox lamborghini countach held together with sellotape and blue-tack. I was throwing it through one of those fabric tunnel/caterpillar things, with the wire hoops which you can crawl through and then picking it up the other end. One time it didn t come out of the other end and it wasn t inside either. I looked everywhere, I even got the dinner ladies to help. we never found it. I was gutted. I lost my Lone Ranger. It was Brownsea Island - somewhere near Weymouth. I buried him up to his neck in the sand, went for a swim, came back and couldn't find him. I was little, it must have been a sunday school trip because Carl, mum and granny were there. I cried but we still couldn't find him. I got another one sometime later from a jumble sale, but it was just a bloke with a horse. I lost 50p down the back of my sofa once. Once upon a time on a dark and stormy night........ Actually one sunny day round the in-laws helping them get rid of some rubbish down the tip we suddenly noticed our wellington boots had dissappeared! Asking Karen where they where she replied 'You put them in the back of the car in a black bin liner to keep the mud of the car!' *~@?/{$".+*** I said in my best queens English. Realizing I had just thrown all our boots into a giant skip that was on its way to the incinerator. How did I feel carefully putting my posesions into a black bin liner just prior to loading my car with black bin liners full of rubbish, well I'll tell YOU *@~?><+$%!(()()(.*** Stupid. Location was Warlingham near Croydon. I'd been here in Barcelona for about 5 weeks and had already seen/heard 4 muggings, two of which were quite violent, in the tourist-full Barri Gotic, near to the school where I'm studying. Then 2 weeks ago my purse and phone were stolen from my bag, which was safely hidden under the table in front of me, while having a drink with some friends in Cafe La Cereria (Baixada de Sant Miguel No3-5, nw corner with Psg Credit). We saw absolutely nothing (!), but think it happened when some people asked us the time and we all turned round to talk to them. I only noticed anything was missing when a few minutes later we left and went to a cashpoint round the corner on Calle Ferran as we were going off to a music festival and needed more money. I thought I must have dropped my purse, but then realised my phone was gone as well. I felt such a strange sense of relief, even though my friends were saying how awful it was - but they'd managed to steal everything I had without violence. I felt lucky - maybe this was all that might happen to me while I'm here - maybe I won't get mugged now, which in my mind was becoming something with an air of inevitability about it. After checking back at the cafe, we walked straight up the Ramblas back to my friend's apartment on Calle Sepulveda to phone the bank back in the UK and cancel my cards. They told me not to worry and if I needed to get cash, just go to the bank in Barcelona with my checkbook later in the week, no problem. Next day I joined the long queue of tourists at the police station in Calle Nou de La Rambla to report the incident. Still I felt grateful for not having been mugged and strangely detached from the others. Later in the week I went to the bank as instructed and tried to get money out. It transpired after 2 hours of arguing in Spanish and various phone calls to the UK that in the 20 mins it had taken us to walk from Ferran to Sepulveda, the people who'd got my card had wiped out my balance completely - 25000 pesetas in Cafe D'Or and 75000 pesetas in a place called EMF, both I think off the Ramblas. I found out a few days later that they'd also used my debit card for about the same amounts and I'm still dealing with the consequences now - little annoying things every day, like having to phone the bank again because my cards still haven't arrived and I'm running out of money, and one of the new cards won't work in the cashpoints, trying to get a replacement phone that is compatible with UK networks, getting forms through and making an insurance claim... all really time consuming and expensive in terms of phone calls... But I still feel lucky and still don't equate it with that horrible cry of shock/despair, that I've heard before and probably will again soon, from someone being mugged in the Gotico. p.s. Just in case I've put anyone off visiting! Barcelona is not a particularly dangerous city - these muggings are normally only in certain areas in the Gotico, a relatively small part of the city... Every time I lose something I have wonderfully mixed feelings. Because, in a way, I owe my existence to a lost handbag. It was lost in a pub in the Brompton Road, in the late 1950s. My mother was with her friends, my father with his. They had never met, although they had one friend in common. Suddenly my mother realised her bag had disappeared, my father offered to help her report it to the police, and the result, some five years later, was me. The bag, incidentally, was found later. It had been stolen by a policeman with a kleptomania problem. But I am grateful for it. I lost my heart to this gorgeous woman. She says it was on the pier at Burnham, but I think it was in a cafe in Placa Real in Barcelona. We're still arguing aobut it, and she's still gorgeous. The day my Dad proposed to my Mum they went shoping for a ring. They eventually decided upon an antique gold ring set with garnets. To celebrate the engagement they went for a moonlight swim, while my mother was still wearing the ring. Needless to say it fell off and despite their best efforts they couldn't find it. Two weeks later they were walking along the beach and something shiny caught my Dads eye. It was the ring, minus the stones. They have had the ring reset and haven't yet lost their marriage. Near Brighton Pier 1973. only today did i experience lostness. i went to collect a 7 year old friend in grove park terrace to go for a swim, & blow me if fishponds rd hadn't completely disappeared when i tried to find it again. curiouser & curiouser. with the wisdom of a 7 year old, friend was reasonably scathing when i drove past the church hall where she goes to beavers for the THIRD time. bold with desparation, i turned down a road that starts with an h (i think we might have been in glasgow at this point) & knock me down with a feather, fishponds rd appeared again. dunno where it had been. AND we got to the pool before it closed! Monday, November 26, 2001 at 3:07:11 PM There s a place just north of Perth, Western Australia called The Pinnacles . It s in the bush and consists of loads of stone pinnacles. They look a bit like the stones in Stonehenge. My aussie cousins thought it would be a good thing for us to go and visit so we did a coach tour. The driver stopped, explained what they were and told us to go for a walk and have a good look around but to walk in the path marked by the small stones. Sure enough, we had our very own Yellow Brick Road from which we were warned not to stray. Sounds easy until the path became indistinguishable from the other stones just lying around. We lost sight of the coach so all that we could see were the pinnacles which looked very much the same in every direction. Dressed in just shorts and t-shirts, and no water, the panic set in and we began to just randomly follow other tourist in the hope that they were from our coach party - until we realised they were lost as well. People were climbling the pinnacles to see if they could see the coach but all they could see were more pinnacles. I can t say how long it took us to find the coach but the driver didn t seem at all concerned so I guess it wasn t gone long - it just seemed like it! Location: Gitsville Ozone Inds. Tossers Ltd, I'm not bitter, just twisted, Guidlford Surrey. 23/11/01 12:30am Meeting called in board room. Conversation went along the lines of. There's no easy way to say this but, blah blah blah etc. So I'm being made redundant is what you are saying? Well officially nothing is set in stone. So when will I know, officially? Next week. You can go home and come back in on Tuesday. Tuesday 27/11/01 4pm What questions have you got? When will it be made official and when do we negotiate terms? Friday 4pm. Friday 30/11/01 1pm Down pub with colleagues for last drink, 3pm cleared desk with Director sitting over my shoulder. 4pm agreed terms and got £4,500 after tax out the buggers. How did I feel, As soon as I was called to the meeting I knew the out come, felt that cold tightening of the stomach. Words came out as if by script it was so predictabl, there was no feeling of anger just slightly numb. Went home, took dog out for long walk to calm down. Open bottle of '96 Poully Fume) for some reason spell check dosen't work on Frech wines - fancy that) and drank the bloody lot - felt much better. Over weekend was so busy completing CV that had no time to dwell on matter. By Tuesday still busy send CV out and hunting jobs. Friday At last I get to rest and have a drink with mates at work. No great surprise. Felt good when they offered me an above average redundancy package with no arguments. Pissed off that I had to return Buffy the van after only a few months having waited for 6 months for it to arrive. Now it feels as if it was a few years in the past and I am now so busy at home I don't miss work at all -its just like one long holiday staying at home. Just a bit skint though. methodology
the work produced I am producing a series of large digital prints on canvas. Each image is a map, with the story in text underneath. great finds I found a map of palestine through e-bay, and it turned out that the person selling it only wanted £3, plus they lived approx 2 miles from me!
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