photo (c) Ana R
‘Suddenly they existed, and then suddenly they existed no longer: existence is without memory; of the vanished it retains nothing—not even a memory. Existence everywhere, infinitely, in excess, for ever and everywhere; existence—which is limited only by existence.’
― Jean-Paul Sartre, ‘Nausea’
Since I am not a Native English speaker, I am kind of afraid to publish posts in English, even if I read books in English (I have just finished ‘Ulysses’, of course, I had a ‘web help’ in translation).. So I choose rather to publish parts of literature I am currently reading, or literature that describes my thoughts and the way of my thinking, than to publish my own thoughts in English-which I am doing right now, funny.
Even if I am a young “poet”, I am still afraid to write about myself in prose. I used to write my thoughts in verses, and I think nothing will change that pleasure of thinking in ‘poesy’.
I am the third year of college; I am studying Art, actually Applied Art. Since I was elementary school I had exhibitions, of course collective exhibitions. But that was kind a weird, ‘cuz I never actually enjoyed in that, ‘cuz I had so much to say about my artworks, but I couldn’t because of those people I was exhibiting with.
Everything that I want to say is about my art or art in general. I care about everything and everyone, but I don’t want to talk about everything and everyone, ‘cuz it is not my problem. I am here, I am me because I have my own thoughts, my own problems, my own solutions, and I am talking about my art with my own voice, and I am looking at my artworks with my own eyes.
I ever so often think about objects, about very prominent objects and their usage. And I almost always find that we are so connected with that objects, with o b j e c t s, which are not alive, but they have their purpose, as well as we have. Maybe that is our connection with them. I cannot describe in words how I am fascinated with that coherence between human being and their own- human creations. That is why I cite Jean Paul Sartre. In ‘Nausea’ and ‘Being and Nothingness’, there is exact relationship between one man and ‘his’ objects. Those objects make some disgustfulness in us. We are starting to be afraid of them- because those objects have a name- also we have a name, those objects have their purpose- also we have a purpose, those objects exist because of that purpose- also we do. But because of that fact- that we created them- we need them, and there wouldn’t be any coherence between us if we weren’t created them.
In the first place, I wrote this to explain my fascination with sanitary napkins and medicaments. I am using both of them, and they have affection on my life. But I am not the only one who is affected by them. Since I am supposed to explain ‘my’ reality and ‘my’ fiction through art, I choose to make it with the parts of those actual objects. Through series of my artworks, I am trying to wake up our connection with those objects. Actually to wake up our consciousness about them. We are depending on them; we built our trust on them a long time ago.
‘Objects should not touch because they are not alive. You use them, put them back in place, you live among them: they are useful, nothing more. But they touch me, it is unbearable. I am afraid of being in contact with them as though they were living beasts.
I thought it was so stupid, so out of place, I hated this ignoble mess. Mounting up, mounting up as high as the sky, spilling over, filling everything with its gelatinous slither, and I could see depths upon depths of it reaching far beyond the limits of the garden, the houses, and Bouville, as far as the eye could reach. I was no longer in Bouville, I was nowhere, I was floating. I was not surprised, I knew it was the World, the naked World suddenly revealing itself, and I choked with rage at this gross, absurd being. You couldn’t even wonder where all that sprang from, or how it was that a world came into existence, rather than nothingness. It didn’t make sense, the World was everywhere, in front, behind. There had been nothing before it. Nothing. There had never been a moment in which it could not have existed. That was what worried me: of course there was no reason for this flowing larva to exist. But it was impossible for it is not to exist. It was unthinkable: to imagine nothingness you had to be there already, in the midst of the World, eyes wide open and alive; nothingness was only an idea in my head, an existing idea floating in this immensity: this nothingness had not come before existence, it was an existence like any other and appeared after many others.’
― Jean-Paul Sartre, ‘Nausea’