Abstract Charting the movement of everyday encounters and gathering the hard evidence of our affective relations, The Song Of Rolling Solo is an expansive chronicle of a rolling nomadic sculpture, the Public Sphere, with its attendant archipelago of transcorporeal happenings. Interrupting the public’s fear with an antidote in the form of a homonym, the Public Sphere solicits a widened public imaginary. This closely observed account fathoms risk and heads out anyway, soliciting a continuous renewal of perspective and presence in an argument for becoming there, wherever there is.

The artist rolls the sculpture, "it’s the world", they say. The Sculptor’s Daughter pushes a meteorite through Helsinki, Maree rebuilds her life stone by stone, Pippa sets out in wedding dress, Stav the security guard steps in. Solos coalesce and reverberate in a contiguous litany of miracle, danger and sometimes ruin. The body is struck. The impossible ear heeds mumbles, rhythms and refrains, accumulating in a living archive of Blue Language: Orality as an outspoken literary event, movement as bodying text, becoming literal all the way.

Blue Language is a lively method, a speculative and affective play with composition and style, heeding Rosi Braidotti’s call for alternative, minoritarian figurations and conceptual personae (p. 34, 2019) and taking seriously Cixous’ declaration “Text: my body shot through with song” (p. 882, 1976). Blue Language invokes embodied and attentive presence, unstable and sensational, rooted and flowing, it is a method for negotiating intensities and composing the ineffable, together. Rest will be necessary but it’s okay, we will have choreographed it.

What if baroque new materialisms, in defiance of metaphor, ground us in the literal immanence of what bodies can do and what language can do? Worlds here and gone.