An old man walked in to the same café I was sitting in early in the morning. He came sitting next to me and blew his nose into a tissue and placed the tissue on my tray. I didn’t mind, I had finished my tea. He stood up and left. Thought nothing of it, just ok. After a while the same man came back wiping his nose, blew his nose and placed the tissue on my tray. He went out and came back with a tissue. He placed the used tissue on my tray. I asked him what he was doing. There was no reply. He left hastily like he was caught doing something embarrassing. I thought I got rid of him when he disappeared behind the corner of the building. He came back sitting opposite to me and pulled his purse from his pocket. He had a five euro bill in and he placed it on the table, then the coins which he put in groups with care. He drank a glass of water with one gulp buying nothing. He put his money back in the purse and on the table again in the same way as before. Repetition of this action was performative and a story, a bit scary in a place where people avoid doing wrong movements not to raise any suspicion, avoid looking out of the ordinary and lacking. To blend in and in a weird way stay invisible is what seems normal. It is desirable to be in control, having errands to do in rational way, know how to behave in a café, having a task and plan, that all there is structured and we know how. The behaviour, the look, the walk, sitting down and having a snack, going somewhere else with destination and purpose. Anything breaking this order strikes out, especially all without a rational purpose.
It was like a game, an attempt to be part of the banal and in the same time not being able to, there is a trauma and crack there. The old man made me look what he went through and he was trying to make a contact. His action which had no other sense, purpose or meaning in this environment seemed childish still having something to say, about the condition of the environment and his. The glass was empty and clean as were his orderly placed things in learned strange order over and over again. He was not hugely frightening just accidental and shaken. A mime and play he played and reasons there were left me grasping as he was performing for me. Had I noticed if he hadn’t reached out for my tray, possibly not.
A couple, what happens there? They look at each other with silence, with pause which is painful to watch, uncomfortable as if they were parting forever. Woman had her back towards me but I could still feel her embarrassment and awkwardness in a situation which seemed to last although they were not.
oil pastel on paper, drunk passed out/why women drink?2015
Without her she gets made, a kind of other, malformation of sex and an assumption. She needs persona and identity of her own. How does she do that? What does she make of herself, of this, of this lot, of this lottery ticket. Out of these forms of hers she must build herself, of pieces a misty character, that makes you feel cold inside. Her reputation precedes her, irregular person, despicable, untrustworthy, she is what you heard you think you heard. You made her in your mind via your and people’s speech, exchange of ideas. Isn’t that her? Talk works like gas, it is intoxicating and vulgar. Violence taking the least effortless way. Story of her could be continued this way unless she would not act on her defense, get that mess into her own hands, clay and a piece of bone. She needs herself to oppose, resist and defend herself. Nobody else does it. Nobody else is interested in her life, her self, what it really is, what she really is like and able to do.
Her reality is not interesting to anyone but herself, she lives it, not you and makes it. She makes her life even though there is discouragement, contempt, laughter, ill talk, threat, there is so little faith in her that it is unbelievable and unbearable. To accept passively what goes on and on because others accept it, it suits them and it is normal, ill is the norm. They say there is nothing one can do for her. It is not an option to change that. That is not true. It is her exceptional quality, resistance, energy of hers that changes anything.
Evaluations, descriptions, adjectives, measurements and comparisons, faults, flaws, drawbacks, qualities we need to place someone in that tight spot to feel powerful and someone else small, qualities we have made and what are they worth, how do qualities needed change anything? Any inner strength there? We imagine, make, consume and refine ourselves as well as we can. We consume others to make ourselves. To find that strength there to do better is so little.
She is not right. There is a right way to be. Characteristics that are stated as a fact without further evidence and hearsay is all. Demonizing her to people who listen, who ask without her, without her she gets made as if she died. Character of mist that makes you feel cold inside. Is this the same world we inhabit: you speak of me but you do not confront me nor speak to me. How little respect there is, how little trust. She is what you heard as a fact. To think otherwise would be unthinkable, unthinkable pleasure, envious, joy of dragging her down speaks mountains: She is not right. She is not right. To kill is to entertain. It is to better yourself, to paint a picture of malicious woman is to draw a separating line. Pointing her out from above, from a distance, from acclaimed perfection, from accepted shameless perfection undeniable. To know her is to say what she is: she is loud, she is noisy, she is quiet, she is broken, she is tense, she is useless, she is irrational, she is shameless, she is lost, she is dead. How stupid she is. Stupidity being something very human. Not understanding why.
Out of focus to a point. There is a visible image but you can see the structure of particles that an image consists of. It is unacceptable in the world of HD. The more high-definition we have the more we need it, because we need to see exactly into things, the insides of things, picture we are perfecting, a three-dimensional object, which is a photograph in where things are captured in a moment perfectly, to make an awe in two-dimensions? With all the high-definition and looking, still we live in not understanding seeing, the seen, unawareness there, looking at a grainy image feeling inadequate. Distinction, originality, a touch of professionalism must be there to function as a proof.
Majakollektiivi Timanttimetsä 