October 19 & 20: Susan Steudel

October 20: ANEMONE

Susan Steudel




Onstage, undersea backdrop constructed of paper and coloured cellophane. Cardboard fish. Typeface drifts down, accumulates on sea floor. Fish appear static and frozen, unable to swim.

Offstage, Diana Ross`s “Where Did Our Love Go.”

ANEMONE: These tentacles still let light through.

SEA MONSTER: But you should be nearly destroyed. How is that?

Typeface from ruined documents continues to descend—type from spoiled contracts guaranteeing the safety of waters.


October 19: MEAT

Susan Steudel


DUCK: a migratory bird
MEAT: speaking, desiccated meat


In a landscape, solemn grey.

MEAT: Don’t land on that lake.

DUCK: Why not?

MEAT: It’s not a lake. It’s a poisonous effluent reservoir.

DUCK: How can you tell?

MEAT: I couldn’t at first. At first it looked like water with sky reflected in it. I dipped in an antler, dragged it over the surface. Up close the lake is coated in a residue.

The duck lands near the meat which lies in shreds along the road.

MEAT: No one will pass me around.

DUCK: Did you drink the water?

MEAT: It’s not water.