The first poem I came up with went like this:
I don’t think it has a name, but if it did, it would probably be: SOUS LE PAVÉS, LA PLAGE!
The first meeting we had was in a friend's house. It drizzled and I was late. The house has a fabulous set of French doors onto a small balcony. As my laptop had recently been nicked (as has I, but that is a whole other story), we spoke about the possibility of safety considering the doors’ lack of lock. It was interesting to note that the friend used her painting easel by way of a WARNING SYSTEM (in the event of burglary, the doors would open and the easel would be knocked over, thus emitting SOUND). It was here (although none of us realised it) that our path was embarked upon: Art as a kind of Warning System. Art wailing against violent injustice. And so forth.
We swapped lots of names and words and defined some terms (Brecht, Morton Feldman, George Crumb, Kurt Weill, Schoenberg, Adès) and Sarah and Claudia were encouragingly open to doing ODD THINGS. Sarah got out some Brecht and Claudia told us about her conversion experience with Crumb and Apparition. Jason and I had a cuppa soon after and talked at length about GAPS. I was thinking about porn and fascism a lot at the time and I said that I didn’t want to make art that foreclosed its response in its presentation. Jason seemed to agree and said wonderful things about leaving gaps in music so that the listener is allowed to inhabit their own piece. We agreed it had something to do with respect.