I never got to write to Elsebeth, my counceler. Another day disappeared with a beer, a nap, bad conscience and intense talks and thoughts. And once in a while, I tried to sit down to get something written, for myself, for someone or for something else. But it’s weird, as it’s so hard.
Two of Doug’s friends were here, and I felt like I should talk to them, and wanted to, but still I couldn’t really cope with it. And for sure, I was keeping to myself. Then one of them asked me on her way out how it was to be in here, suddenly, the answer was really clear. I do think it’s hard for two weeks to be neither social, nor alone. Neither to be in a social environment, with a feeling of warmth, and the chance to see more than one individual in the eyes at a time. Or to be able to be all alone, deep in thought, hear loud music and act spontanousely
Doug’s friend nodded and understood the words that came out of my mouth, but also I understood my answer in a new way.
Evening came quickly. Doug, Ward, and I ate together. I made some fun with some cucumber pieces..well, ten at a time in my mouth while I was smiling at these two thoughtful faces beside me. It took a while before they noticed me, that’s how it is in Flatland, you often have to wait 90 degrees of a smile. But it was a smile that made me all emotional..because we were sitting there eating, and we were all alone together, by ourselves, together, in a suddenly very nice way, at least in my head. Actually, Doug and Ward maybe mostly were listening to the radio… but I was looking at the wrinkles in Ward’s face, and at the way he was holding his palm to his head, to support his thoughts. A lonely rider with a lot of faith to invent something worth fighting for. Berkley in the 60s is on the list of films that Doug and I have to consume before we leave Flatland, because Ward (with a glint in his eye) recommended it. He must have been young at that time… but right now, it is Flatland he is fighting for, and that includes.
And then, the tears started to run down my cheeks, sitting next to two guys in orange and red suits eight meters above the ground, confined in a weird crazy construction, inside a gallery that closed three hours ago. Entangled: ages, relationships, each other, the work, memories of old work, ----
Enough about Ward and Doug. It just left me with a very profound impression suddenly, but because of the circumstances. I think I needed to find some meaning in this Flatland project, which could reach all the way to Nørrebro in Kobenhavn (and it's strugles,..which is the article i whrote while being in flatland was concened). And suddenly, there was this little, modest, hopeless feeling that, if not anything else, it is very very important that somebody dare invent something that they dare to think is important… dare fight for something, whether if it is manifested as a temporary art project or as a permanent fight for social change.
...
That evening we, Doug and I, told the others that we were leaving…today...
More words soon. Love, Eva
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2 comments:
"...to be neither social, nor alone"
Others have mentioned the "not alone," but the "not social" sounds like a pretty interesting and big insight to me. If Flatland has removed or altered the "social context" then that alone could alter the sense of self and others (even in one-on-one interactions). Another chance to see the rules & invisible props that operate in normal life/normal social space.
Tell us more about this, please!
ARE YOU STILL THERE? I'm a writer with the british paper the Guardian and i've been following the blog and i'd love to come and see you and write about the project. but maybe it's all over? if not, and you're still there, can i come see you? my email is ed.pilkington@guardian.co.uk. hope to hear from you
ed Pilkington
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