domingo, 23 de febrero de 2014

correspondencia

ESCRIBIR UNA CARTA DE AMOR A LOS MATERIALES QUE ELIJAN USAR PARA HACER UNA MÁSCARA, pueden personificar las hojas, el papel, la cinta, la madera, el plástico, el confeti, etc...

Aquí un carta que me inspiro a hacer este ejercicio:


Dear Sea, 

I love you, but I know you do not 
care about me. That is ok with 
me. I like that epic, aching feeling 
of being ignored. I don’t know 
why my dear sea, but when I first 
got on that surfboard and rode 
your waves I knew this was what 
I'd been missing all my life. Finally 
I found a way to spend hours in 
the water without having to swim 
and without being contained by 
some structure like a boat. For a 
water lover like me this was a 
revelation. It was you, that great 
blue blob that filled that black 
hole inside of me. I felt touched 
by a teenage sadness that I hadn’t 
discovered you earlier. 
I love you sea, because you offer 
me contradictions. When I enter 
your water my human dimension 
is being extended to a kinship 
with something non-human. The 
institution of water, it rules from 
the head down. The voice of my 
body is no longer governed by 
reason. Fears, drifts and desires 
take the mic. That's why I sing for 
you, dear Sea: "From the body of 
the sea to the body of me". It 
might sound silly, but I am a little 
bit afraid of you and I like that. 
The more I fear the more I desire 
life. A proportional exchange; 
because ultimately the things I 
live for are the things I die for.
Still, even though I fear you, I feel 
invited with an integrity I normally 
never encounter. It makes me 
remember my place in a universe 
with no special privilege for 
humans on this planet. I feel 
humbled by this awareness. The 
daily drama of my intellect 
dissolves. My thoughts get 
washed up on the beach and 
make space for a tinkling delight. 
I look at them from a distance, a 
huge pile of disorganized waste. 
Now, being divorced from my own 
negativity leaves me with nothing 
left to escape from. It is my return 
to the moment. 
I often miss your good waves, 
because of my good ideas. That is 
when you slap me, because I 
know you don't care about my 
ideas. They are useless in your 
existence, in your experience of 
time. You just keep doing your 
thing, like Tina Turner, rolling. 
Because no fact stays true for long 
when it's reflected by something 
as ancient as you, my dear sea. 
The only thing that matters to you 
is what is felt most deeply. And 
plastic, I know you don't like that. 
Who are you I wonder? Every time 
we meet you are different. 
Sometimes you feel like a 
grandma, sometimes you are a 
fierce and untamable maiden and 
sometimes you are like a young, 
innocent boy singing out in the 
choir, completely in tune with his 
surroundings. You never leave my 
mind.I am extending you while 
you are re-inventing me. I know 
that love is just something to 
mundane for you, but are we 
having a relationship, dear sea? 
Could I be gay after all? Or do you 
feel so familiar because I am 
water too. 
I am trying to defeat my human 
capacity by walking on water. It is 
out of question to cheat. This is 
your game where neither the 
political nor the spiritual rule. I 
can’t fake anything here. Perhaps 
Jesus was a surfer too. You 
probably know, maybe one day 
you will tell me. 
Saying I am a surfer sometimes 
feels oddly religious, like I’m 
Christian or a Muslim. But I 
acknowledge that there is a truth 
to this. If surfing is my religion 
then seeing the sunrise from your 
waters is the cathedral. But your 
cathedral has no walls. It is a 
place without promises. Neither 
are there any picture postcards of 
some otherworldly, never-ending 
holiday destinations. You are not 
claiming the absolute, not even 
for the sake of a good argument. 
Somehow the only thing you show 
is that everything is exactly as it 
should be. 
Dear sea, it is through your 
permanence and unshared stories 
that I become aware of my own 
ending. Nothing of me will last. 
There are many days I think I 
prefer to spend the rest of my 
time as a bad surfer then an OK 
artist. Or really, I am just going to 
say it,.. as a mermaid. 

Love,M 

In de rubriek BRIEF AAN vragen we iemand uit de kunstwereld een brief te schrijven aan 
iemand, dood of levend, om een kwestie aan te kaarten die hem of haar zeer ter harte 
gaat. In deze aflevering schrijft Melanie Bonajo (winnaar MK Award) een brief aan de zee. 
DEZE TEKST IS GEPUBLICEERD IN 
METROPOLIS M Nr 5-2013

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