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I will give it the title `Gentle Line`, Aliona says with a smile. I look at these gentle lines. I feel like asking whether I should understand `line` as something that divides or something that connects.
I ask Aliona what a photogram is. She explains. All I understand is that she puts something on the table and then once there is light, once there isn’t any. Perhaps she told me the gist, after all?
To take an example, I look at these heroes busy doing something with stars / they look like grand figures, mythical giants putting the world together, placing the planets, making final adjustments on the distances, adding a final touch with some huge duster. Light.
I look at them again / my God, these broken little bodies on the verge of falling into pieces, these prisoners staring into the night, our father in the concentration camp, his best friends in another, you sometimes see double with the tears. The stars explode into birds, change into flowers and people, and vice versa. Mirrors, rips – darkness, darkness, darkness.
I look at the interplanetary acrobats, the light ecstasy of the happy dive, the memory of Cretan athletes on a slender ancient urn – and the jump from the twentieth floor, witnesses backing away. And I look at these figures with bodies as if knit together, eyeing the infinite together, setting out, swinging, dancing – I look at them, but what does it all come to? Separation, escape, twins looking in opposite directions from their mother’s womb, two different pulsations of the same heart, blasted arrhythmia, there is no solution.
The woman who sends away and does not let go, the man who leaves and stays.
Each and every picture has two contrary readings. (Not to mention The many others in between.)
I will give it the title `Gentle Line`, Aliona says with a smile. I look at these gentle lines. I feel like asking whether I should understand `line` as something that divides or something that connects. But I know what gentleness is. It is a smile which has the power to stay no matter whether there is light or there isn’t. When there is no light, this smile will shine.
Szerző: Noémi Saly
Fordító: Translated by Dezső Bánki
Nyelv: english
Megjelenés dátuma: 2001
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