After I finished 52 Scores (2019-2020) I was left with a pile of off-cuttings. Words I considered, but didn’t use. For 52 More I’m inviting people to use them to make their own walking scores.

If you’d like to make a score, e-mail your postal address to blakemwalks@gmail and you will recieve a kit in the mail.* Each score takes one week to build (around five to ten minutes a day). Once you’ve made the score we can choose a time to walk it together (and invite others to join us if we so desire).
 
You can also join in the walks as the scores are made (check out the upcoming walks page.) To participate in a walk, read the score and decide how you interpet it as instructions for a walk. For instance, you might follow the words as a map, or use specific sentences as provocations for your exploration. You can do the walks anywhere in the world in whatever environment suits them best.

If you have questions or want to arrange a specific walking exchange, e-mail blakemwalks@gmail.com. You can also share you walks via social media using the hashtag#52More.

I will be sharing the scores and documenting the walking exchanges on the project blog. Feel free to participate in previous walks as well. If you share your documentation with me I will add it to the blog.

The project is ongoing until 52 scores have been created and walked into existence.

Castoff words sitting in a crystal bowl in the Pennsylvania woods, ready to be turned into walking score kits.

We begin with not walking. A conflict between the interior and the exterior takes precedent. An urgent appointment. It merits mention.

The next morning we walk a small perimeter around the house. We stop often, looking closely.

The end of summer.

Marked on a number of occassions.

As if we need extra time to process that final marker - point of no return - autumn equinox. 

An end of summer walk.

The score a new marker for the seasons.

A new perimeter - snaking around the built environment - the expansive exploration of fall.

Julius; 21 October 2021; England

We walked it together, using the score as a map with trails of words to follow.

A machine in my pocket captures our route, our speed, our elevation. The graphic spikes demonstrate when we are not walking. It merits mention.

On occassion I pull it out to capture the moment. A camouflaged frog resists my efforts at machinic capture.

Three rivers: the Charles, the Thames and the Lackawaxen. Ciara, Alisa and I set out together, apart (connected via Telegram). London is sunny, while in the United States we walk in the rain.

Between Suburban and Urban: The Charles River. Within the first fifteen minutes of her walk, Ciara has ‘been splashed by two cars, stepped in two puddles, and encountered several closed sidewalks’. The people she encounters are out with a purpose—'runners and dog walkers’. The unfriendly charm of Boston: ‘Other pedestrians just treat you like an inconvenience’. She passes a rainbow of fists stenciled on the ground as well as ‘Everyone matters graffiti’. The sentiment against Black Lives Matters is strong in America, though so is the fight for new modes of equality.

The “community” garden is locked. No trespassing please. Near the boathouse that belongs to Harvard—or is it MIT’s? or Northeastern’s? with so many boathouses it can be hard to keep track—she reflects, ‘I always feel like a guest in their water.’

Urban: In London, a sunny day brought out droves. Walking the Thames near Southbank, Alisa navigates a river of people. ‘Everyone is SO dressed up’. The ‘first warm day. saturday. everything open.’ There seem to be more folks on the river than the entire population of Hawley. Emerging after a winter of discontent? People passing, people sitting.


For Alisa, the monuments of the Enbankment evoked ‘Stalin’s Vodokanal projects’ and the power dynamics present in the ‘act of framing water’. The water not available for all. The embankment itself is a ‘man made thing’, a taming of the Thames. The crowds in London have better access to the river than Ciara or I, though Alisa still navigates a combination of actual public spaces and POPS (privately owned public spaces). Private spaces masquerading as public commons.

Rural: My river was not so friendly. Beautiful, but not particularly inviting. Until 2021 the Lackawaxen River had no official public access points. Instead, there are private homes on the private river. To be fair, the river itself isn’t private. You can be on it, but you can’t necessarily get to it.


I pass a house with a wooden sign laser cut with the phrase ‘I don’t kneel’. A reference to Black Lives Matter I presume. It couldn’t possible be a rejection of Christian genuflection (Hawley being a good, god-fearing town). As I walk, I continue to encounter moments where it is clear I am not invited. Psychologically my queer atheism overrides my status a white, middle class, able-bodied, cisgender male. A continual feeling that I don’t belong here. I am not aligned with the town’s common thoughts.

Three rivers, but who do they invite to walk?

Laura; 6 June, 2021; Cardiff, Wales.

[score base: blue index card with cursive handwriting on it, parts of which are blacked out; photo and score: Debbie Kent (2021); score text: in parantheses dream wires/Follow the/Moon/precisely at the point where/Always almost obsolete/The clouds tonight are/open to participants/ded)forms of architecture/gloom of the deep/Let’s tentacularize/What happens]

Debbie and I will be exploring her score during the September new moon. We invite you to join us wherever you are, and walk with us as the lunation cycle changes to new moon in September 2021. Read her score, intrepret it however you like, and walk it with us at moonset. You can find your moonset time here.