Chimera Swagger
Choreographer and artist Nina Djekić’s poem is deconstructed into a semiotic form that flirts with the embodiment of gait recognition tech.
Choreographer and artist Nina Djekić’s poem is deconstructed into a semiotic form that flirts with the embodiment of gait recognition tech.
{‘In the spring of 1872 a man photographed a horse.’}
annihilated time
set fantasy in
motion
bodies suspended
in darkness
{via the perspective of a
lens, suspended}
balancing in
a frame, a
mobile
\mō-bēl\,
a person
walks through
a forest a reverb
of a step, a
b o unce
becomes
adrift,
a new memory settles
in mind*body, of a thick
place,
full of tall verticals
a movement,
not unlike
flying
you've dreamed of
years ago:
you are
a
fantastical
vehicle
cushioned by
what seems (and feels)
transparent,
like air
pillowy
softened,
speeding into the
woods (green, brown with
hints of blue sky?)
time appears to be
not counted in
numbers, but
measured
in the illusion of the
nearing horizon
a series of verticals
swooshing by
_ -
_ one
_
two
and
behind this image
in motion,
obscured
(ethereal?) :feet placed with
grace
of a technician\ care
echoes
through every glitch,
a tremor
via the
<visible
is a vehicle to
traverse you
who holds
the frame
is this vehicle
to traverse places
to travel
amongst the highest
` trees,
centuries held in their stillness
*once an ensemble along with
musicians dancing on top of one
of its stumps
new landscapes unravel
in collpsed pockets of
time
you are
> nearly still
yet you feel
the distances
rush by
via the
>visible
is a vehicle to
traverse you
&for time to
manifest
The acceleration!
b o unces
(elevates)
our bo
o
O o
O
Spirit o dies
O, the ground
you are adrift
{ the bourgeoise had lost its gestures } comedic timing written in the
permutations of rotating
byts and oscillating distances
Do you remember how it was when you could walk?
like a heartbeat that barely
Your feet in and out of touch with the ground WEIGHT BALANCED
manages to trip
Your arms swaying back and forth —
a polygraph a silly walk that fails to
like pendulums.
trick an inner ear that migrates between your pocket
The right hip slightly dropping in that very moment
and your palm and the other slightly rising in accordance.
its soft wear
rubbing against but moving along
The bounce in your step?
a built-in system (sensor fusion)
The length of your stride that changes when you are in a hurry or when you
pace around thinking…
metals
How it feels to descend
cloth
at your own pace
mesh
feels like
skin
(shadow)
{ Ash walk
/ water walk }
the horror grounded in a
a loss of agency -
you are a pillar of
ash
however the wind
blows you move within
it
parts
of a
body
crumble
unbound
emptying
clouded
an ash
figure
hovering
over
the
darkened
screen*
*a series of silhouettes imprinted
in time
be ash,
be ash
or
be water
it must be
a line common
enough, as a
BAD tattoo in
a foreign
language,
appropriated
non-meaning
a silly magic
spell
a curse
nothing to hide
is being hidden
in plain sight –
on a forearm in full
swing
on the back of
a neck slightly bent
under the tongue
{ Memory non-alignment }
(no silly walk
those
tracing marks,
as an alphabet
describe you
better than
words
a mean? algorhythm
that draws you
apart from the
chorus
delineates the crowd
from the river
(inverted)
a contour
is a language
eloquent enough &
cunning enough
(is that what you’ve
discerned out there?)
soft ware
is hard
wear
) encapsulating
(
Τερψιχόρη –
\ ˌtərp-ˈsi-kə-(ˌ)rē \
the daughter of
memory and mother
of sirens
chorus
walks
(in your
steps?)
What is the
challenge to
offer
g
u
i
d
a
n
c
e
to figures
loosing
shape –
when
any series
of shape –
shifting
: appropriated /
disguised /
inspired
can
be
allocated
to a body
proper
in a
series of
vowels
waves
subjectable to
memory
any
mannerism
is being
traced
back
to an
origin
-
an
own
swagger
a swarm
of butterflies
or a stream of water
the river of shadows
traverses the
corpusse of the city
locking &
unlocking memories
at every
bend