No name, 2007.
100 x 80 cm,
C-print on aluminium.
Ed. 5 + 2 a.p.
I once read an article about a professor studying alexithymia: a phenomenon also recognised by the medical sciences, in which there are no words for feelings. I was excited and told S about this. She returned me back to planet Earth. It does not mean feelings which have no name but the inability of the patient to recognise his/her feelings and express them by means of language. It is an illness. On the other hand: what difference does it make, I thought, but said nothing to S. Language is slow and much can happen before it reacts. Pounding of blood. Fists tightening. Bright light extracting tears from eyes. Grass stalks and roots which look familiar even though they never are exactly the same.
Several years later I fell asleep during a long car voyage. I slept restlessly and in my dreams my friends were discussing language. T. shouted: ‘Incorporation into language is the final separation and imperfectification! It is banishment from Eden!’ After I woke up I remembered the article about alexithymia. ‘Language’, I thought, ‘you banished me from Eden.’