The point of a newspaper would seem to be in the name. ‘News’ paper. Which, the 5 year old I once was would firmly tell you is boring, an older me might have learnt the word tedious and a naive me might say factual. Today I’d probably say disappointing.
You might have other adjectives to associate with the swathes of flimsy ink rubbing paper, published in droves on a daily basis, but I’m sure that you would not suggest, a story of the world.
News is boring right?
In Barnie Duncan’s …Him, the newspaper is brought to life.
For 50 minutes Duncan explores the daily stories of our world. They’re everywhere. On every wall, on every seat and piled around the space. It’s eerie and magical and hilariously fascinating.
Duncan dives into the abstract of these stories, exploring the words, the themes, searching for meaning. As the blurb says, Him is a recluse who lives obsessively through his only connection with the outside world – the daily newspaper.
I found it fascinating, how when you remove the contextual detail that informs how you read a newspaper it changes the interpretation. It becomes more literally about what is read on the page and how the pages relate to each other. How in a space like …Him, the subject becomes an abstract idea in of himself. Which is a bizarre idea I admit, but somehow, engaging so intently on such an array of details pulls the person out of the mix. It’s still human. But somehow it’s less individual.
Have you ever got lost in a thought or a detail and got so deep that everything became bizarre and meaningless yet deeply interesting and incredibly connected to everything?
Catch it at The Basement this week. Maybe even double bill it with Wild Bees? You won’t regret it!
Ticketing and more info here.