the testing of reality
*
I ask you to move around
when I say “low” you crouch to the ground
stay there for a while, eyes closed
I then lower a blanket over one of you
tell you to open all eyes
it is up to the rest of you to say
who is missing
you move around
low
open all eyes
who is missing
move
low
open all eyes
move
low
open all eyes
move
*
while I am here in this room with you
does my house exist?
nobody is watching my table, my bed, my books, my plants
I don’t see it - nobody sees it at this moment
the door is locked
or
there is no door
*
the day after
the daughter said
photographs of her mother
had changed
a photograph of the living:
a (false) assumption that after this photograph, you can take another, and another, and another, and another, and another
a photograph of the no longer living:
knowing that’s all.
*
in each life occurs a dwindling of things you haven’t seen
once you have seen them
you cannot un-see them
*
they say
darkness falls
it rises
also:
true dark is not the darkroom, which is contaminated by red
it is not the dark room
it is the small room where you roll the film into the development tank
*
what if
dead/alive
reality/fiction
light/dark
visible/invisible
are not contradictions?
*
years ago
I attempted to photograph the way my father slips from my mind
and returns from the depths
using a man as a surrogate for my father
obscuring the man himself
*
22 sun on sand or snow
16 sun, sharp shadow
11 hazy sun, soft shadow
8 clouds, barely visible shadow
5.6 shade, no shadow
4 sunset, open shade, no shadow
*
a man
barely visible, so,
technically, he could be any man
he is not
*
photographic attraction
you are strongly attracted to some one in an all consuming way; you have to photograph that person, a sunken cheek, a sloping shoulder, a type of hair, you have to photograph that person, a glimmer of a pain, or something hopeful in the way this person walks - it’s not nameable, you have to photograph that person
it’s a desire crossing what you might and might not, should and should not, you have to
*
- did you see snakes before he died?
~ no
- maybe it’s your father?
~ no
we had a deal
he’d be a black panther
- but… in Europe…
~ no
*
the mourner goes through phases of ‘the testing of reality’ Klein writes
and then
reality passes its verdict – that the object no longer exists – upon each single one of the memories and hopes through which the libido was attached to the lost object
what if you mourn some one who is still here
convince yourself
‘the testing of fiction’
fiction passes its verdict - that the object no longer exists – upon each single one of the memories and hopes through which the libido was attached to the lost object
*
Protect your face.
Offer your neck.
Stay calm.
Stay put.
Lay as close to the ground as possible.
Walk backwards slowly.
Blink.
Take in as many details as you can.
Don’t turn your back.
Curl up into a ball.
Do not touch.
Do not run.
Take of your shirt and hold it above your head.
Swallow.
*
This text was read in a performance for The Kitchen Not the Restaurant as part of DAI Roaming Academy, September 2017, Arnhem, NL.
All words by Sanne Kabalt, except for one sentence by Melanie Klein, as referred to in the text.