JULY 9 – 12 2009

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All alone, I’m so all alone. There is no one else but you. All alone by the telephone, waiting for a ring, a ting-a-ling. I’m all alone every evening. All alone, feeling blue. Wondering where you are and how you are, and if you are all alone too. I hear the ticking of the clock, I’m lying here, the room’s pitch dark. I wonder where you are tonight; no answer on the telephone. And the night goes by so very slow. I hope that it won’t end though. Alone. When I was young I never needed anyone and making love was just for fun. Those days are gone. Living alone, I think of all the friends I’ve known, but when I dial the telephone, nobody’s home. All by myself. Don’t want to be all by myself anymore. All by myself. Maybe I give up too easy. Maybe I don’t fight enough. Maybe my heart is afraid of falling in love. I can’t do this alone. I don’t know what to do. Alone. I’m trying to stay with you. It’s not all about you. Boy, I can’t do this alone. You’re making this harder. Alone. Girl, I’m about to leave you. I can’t do this alone. No use in holding other hands, for I’d be holding only emptiness. No use in kissing other lips, for I’d be thinking just of your caress. All alone am I ever since your goodbye. All alone with just a beat of my heart. People all around but I don’t hear a sound. Just the lonely beating of my heart.

In the final week of the 3084 program, Kathleen Ritter concludes the project with a response drawing on the layered echoes of desire that resonate throughout the self-storage facility – a container for tightly rationalised zones of erasure which, for many reasons, increasing numbers of people want.

Through its corridors and walls, girders and shutter-doors, sound carries: the agitation of bound materials resolving a branded spatial economy. Creaks of tension, compression, suspension; distant motors briefly engaged; the hum of electric lights. These sounds can be unsettling. It’s no coincidence that music is a listed feature of this carefully planned service, piped through hallways, softening hard edges, burying strange vibrations.

This is understandable. It’s important that people feel safe. Comfortable. Never alone.

. . . . .




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