Le Château Bouge
DOC 234—34/2
Château Bouge,
a bridge between my mind and my subconscious
0822 Callian FR
a bridge between my mind and my subconscious
0822 Callian FR
Something is happening to me, I want to be precise with my words but this feeling of suddenly entering a room and not knowing anything, have you ever experienced it ?
I never had until that exact moment, the atmosphere, the smell, the beautiful ivory curtains slowly touching my skin as the wind flows through the walls of this magically haunted castle.
Something happens to me each time I enter this this acropolis. I dissolve like a lamp in a storm. There are wall papers transporting me to the 18th century, they are falling appart, their energy is telling me to leave but I simply cannot. There are sinks, baths, the evocation of ritual immersion. There are larges doors, which have shoulders like men, bodies becoming other bodies. Sympathy clouds my judgment exactly like in a dream, and I am freed of lazy discrimination. I have no need of my paltry lamp, « could you leave everything and start from zero again » the spirits seem to whisper in my ear.
I step into the same dream twice, four times, eighty-nine times. Love is a kind of sleeping sickness. You say that the work now is to find the possibilities of the archive. No more taking of photographs, enough Photographs have been taken, the work now is to return to the past archive and find the unrecorded songs in it, and build new castles from the sleeping bricks.
What happened is this. I am trapped in my own dreams, the sun is hot enough to stun and I am wearing only a black underwear, I am laying on the ground. I am deranged by divine love or rearranged by earthly passion. I wear a white turban, and I cling to a wall in the throes of ecstasy. My face is lost in the dark mass of my blonde hair. I am kissing the earth when I would rather kiss the clouds.
I am in chains. Who has confined me thus? I am dancing with another, dancing with infinite gentleness. That other is in chains, and that other is myself. I am a graceful chord of three women wearing transparent garments as it seems to protect me more than the real ones.
I am an open window in day time, brooding over rows of covered walls. On that moment I am the freeze of a hunt. I am also the night mist, the dust at night, covering my body and falling down my hair. An afternoon with my mom, sharing the feeling of being a complete outsider of the real world, that was me too.
I am a miniature for that, on the evidence of a blurred passerby, turns out to be full sized castle itself, the music that is everywhere but cannot be touched or smelled or held. Do you not recognize me ? I am a refugee from another ritual immersion, another haunted castle, another, another… what about today and tomorrow? Where will I ever feel as safe ? it is almost as it made me felt as a time traveller from a work that has not yet been made. I am a guest, they made me feel as if I was goddess, a specimen, nocturnal lights strung on successive bushes, each apparitional as an undersea creature, a photograph moving from darkness into light and from light into darkness. And no longer moving, and now moving again. I am the image that enters the eyes, the hand that turns the page, the one that leaves the acropolis.
