The Cogs Are Turning

The time is fast approaching and the wheels are well and truly turning.

Keep your eyes peeled for an interview with Loren and Stef in Friday’s edition of the MEN all about the KAIROS project.

Here’s the original Syncreon, a wrist watch sized time piece and smaller version of the wheel soon be displayed at Cornerhouse – 31st January – 12pm – 5pm (approx)



Photo by Jody Hartley – Concept & Design by Loren Fetterman – Co-Designed & Crafted by Fraser Simpson


By Loren Fetterman 

Kairos is an artistic representation of an intuition that many of us feel, but few have purposefully explored. We often sense that time moves in cycles more subtle than those we follow by the calender and clock. Unlikely events unfold as if by fate to teach us the same lessons again and again, and profound experiences separated by vast periods of time seem mysteriously connected, as if we’d returned to the same nexus of meaning further along the temporal spiral. Much of our great art, music and literature are epic illustrations of these invisible webs of meaning. Many religious cosmologies are also framed by this cyclical conception of time, including the Hindu model of the four yugas, the Mayan baktuns, Buddhist concepts of karma and re-incarnation, and the enigmatic system of the IChing often linked with Taoism. The popularity of astrology in our modern age is testament to how strongly this intuition is felt among many people, persisting even when vehemently opposed by the common scientific worldview. The same can be said of systems of divination, such as the casting of runes, throwing the IChing, or the reading of Tarot cards. All are linked by the idea that the past and future are somehow present now, and can be read like a text if only we learn the forgotten language of symbols.

These cycles of time are often experienced not only as recurring themes woven throughout the narrative of our lives, but also as stages of development that we move through as we grow and mature. Whether observing the growth of a young child, a romantic relationship, or the first centuries of a civilization, we commonly accept that there are certain stages that make up a healthy process of development. Likewise, many systems of spiritual practice provide detailed maps of states and stages that the seeker will progress through on their path towards enlightenment or awakening. The Kabbalistic Tree of Life, Buddhist maps of meditation progress, and alchemical allegories of the journey of the soul all illustrate paths of development reflective of the particular teachings of each. While few of us ever begin such rigorous mental training, to the extent that we strive for anything we can be said to be on a path, and our victories and defeats often feel like familiar plot twists in anticipation of our final goal.

The word Kairos refers to a concept developed in ancient Greece, when these ideas were more widely accepted as principles. While it was most commonly used by rhetoricians to refer to the opportune moment during which to deliver a particular argument, usually in the courtroom, it has it roots in the arts of weaving and archery, where it signified the creation of an opening and the right time to strike. The word also came to mean ‘weather’ and ‘times’. It is used approximately 81 times in the New Testament, such as when Jesus says to a crowd, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say ‘It is going to rain’; and so it happens…You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time (the kairos)?”

One might answer that it is because we lack a suitable language. It seems counter intuitive to attempt to develop a terminology capable of referring to the infinite range of occurrences that might make up particular ‘kinds of time’. And yet we have one word for the vast array of objects that we refer to as ‘chairs’. This is possible because we group chairs by the function that they serve, we sit in them. So too, traditions throughout history have attempted to group the events that make up different ‘kinds of time’ by their fundamental effects or function, claiming that there exists not only ‘a time to reap and a time to sow’, but also a time to marry, a time to learn, to teach, to make war or peace, and so on.

The performance of Kairos is a presentation of one such language. More precisely, it presents an alphabet, discovered and developed over a number of years by paying close attention to apparent cyclical patterns in time. Each letter of this alphabet, and the words spelled from these letters, was experienced as a meditative trial, a paradox of opposing perspectives that had to be unified before the next letter could be learned. While these trials can be extremely challenging, the completion of each frees us from fundamental illusions that sap our energy and cloud our perceptions.

This alphabet will painted onto a ten foot timepiece made of four large wheels which will spin at different speeds during the performance, signifying the cycles that we experience as we pass under the influence of each letter. A woman will be mounted to the front wheel, spinning upside down again and again over a number hours, exhibiting the endurance required to learn the lessons of each cycle and thereby acquire this new language. A mandala will be painted across her and the wheel, representing the language’s logical structure and its relationship to the body. A poem constructed from fragments of submitted pieces of writing on the theme of transformations, cycles and time will then be written over the mandala, unifying the experiences of Kairos in the lives of individuals into a single voice. Finally, she will step down from the timepiece, adorned and transformed.

Loren Fetterman and Stefanie Elrick’s previous performance, Written in Skin, presented a form of immediate language, expressed through the natural responses of the naked body as poetry was etched into skin using a tattoo machine. Kairos draws our focus from the immediacy of language to its potential in describing transformational processes rather than single things or events, and connections of meaning rather than of causality.

Kairos will be performed at 12pm at the Cornerhouse, Manchester on January 31st, 2015, as part of the Cornerhouse’s ongoing Playtime exhibition. The timepiece will be on display after the performance and during the following day.

The Deadline for KAIROS Submissions is Drawing Near!

Huge thanks to everyone who has submitted to the KAIROS project thus far, this piece of living art is nothing without your voices and experiences.

For anyone else wishing to submit the deadline for writing is 11:59pm 31st December 2014, just before 2014 slips seamlessly in 2015.

After that we look forward to seeing you all at the live event at Cornerhouse, Manchester on the 31st January, entry is free so all you need to bring is your own curiosity.

Keep checking back for pictures of the 10foot wheel’s construction throughout January.


Slider_01 (1)

Submission #5 Andreas Andrews

I awoke
I breathed
I spoke softly
I opened my eyes
I still dreamt of magic
I thought up a plan of awe
I fired up my innards with fuel
I couldn’t believe my predicament
I looked up at the sky and saw black
I was walking down the hill, when it started
I failed to realise what the consequences were
I saw the blushing of nature, but forceful in it’s stride
I relented of the times once begotten with marginal delight
I sung a song of cheerful bliss, as I strayed from what was pure
I carried along unscathed by the blinding lights that pierced my soul
I found a million water droplets falling perpetually from the skies above
I disputed the creation of all that was perfect, and reigned in my ignorance
I ran shattered by the constant grinding of my bones against all that was abrasive
I outperformed the beasts from the forest that didn’t understand what is was to be human.

Submission #3 Stefanie Elrick


She moves in cycles,
Endless circles,
Right back round to the point where I came.
This place you started,
This person I’m always,
Thoughts blinked away bubble beyond the frame.

I look at you,
You look at she,
In this lazy sphere of energy,
We’re caught, bound tight,
Can’t move limbs free,
Under weight of twinned confusion, 
Is there room you and me?

I’m frightened that we might splinter and break,
When reality tinges the dream that we make,
Annihilation comes from the inside without,
You won’t even have felt her cut the love out.

Easy numbness,
Slips in seamless,
Waiting safe someplace inside.
Its been swelling slowly larger,
Since the gloss was lost from life.

So she slides back inside easy apathy.
Leans on you,
Be my crutch?
We’ll be happy!

(For a while) ‘Til the smiles start to sour,

And the monotone drone starts to lengthen each hour.

“It’s not you, you do know, you do know that it’s me?”
What more could I say,
What worse truth could there be?

So you’ll fade,
And I’ll change,
For a few weeks at least.
One lost little girl on her flying trapeze…..

Then we’ll fall for them all,
Strange landscapes of experience.
That deep itch behind the eyes,
Throbbing instincts pulls and whispers.

Do you think you could complete me?
Take me in and make me whole?
If I laid my heads between your palms,
Can you guess what I already know?”

Didn’t think so.
(I suppose we’re too much of a handful.)

So spin in cycles,
Super circles,
An endless state of being and not.
In us my worlds been doubled,
Yet parts of me were forgot.

Let me wrap myself around your warmth,
Don’t think, open up, let us in.
Let us love you, bathe you and bruise you,
Just don’t let it get under your skin.
You can feel me, heal me and kiss me,
An amenable agreement I’m sure for both sides.

But just so you know,
This is how it will go,
Happy Ever After won’t come if you try.


– 2006 –

Submission #2 Dex Hannon

Natural Rust

I am dented

Rusted boned and pleasant

My mind is still sleek and sharpened steel

My lips flow smooth and silken shapes

the body work is in need of some attention.

The engine is fuelled on dietary mistakes

The tyres are balding and the spare disappeared with the jack

I can still ride out the open road.

Ah, the beautiful places I’ve seen.

I still have a half tank of gas

To take me places I’ve never been.

If I could drive it all over again.

Would my roads be different?

I’ll never know.

When I’m taken to the junk yard,

I have only just one hope,

that I ran this dirty old engine,

at least twice around the clock.

Submission #1 Oz Hardwick


Eyes close: open. Electric signal

digits flick and flash, cycle

sequence spinning, spilling too soon

to wakefulness, cold morning, bright

sun, blink, almost awake

to catch the cues, the clues,

the codes to hold each second,

each minute, stop the domino

tipping, tripping time in lines

creasing skin, thinning to blue

blushed bloom, opal eyes

wide in spray from endless seas

of memory, surging, filling veins,

plumping vines bearing fruit,

ripe and heavy from rippling months

numbered in sundial shadows, sweeping

shapes glimpsed through fleeting fingers

drumming a deep pulse, drawing

years in circles. Time slips:

begins again.