Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Much to say it
Sunday, June 28, 2015 - 5:31, Brussels
It puzzles me that  the danger can be search for itself, adrenaline as a stimulant such as bungee jumpers. On the other hand the quest of tightrope walker on his wire is clear to me, the balance that allows him not to fall, knowing that the fall can mean death according to the height of the wire and in the absence of net. I prefer to be a tightrope walker as bungee jumping, although I’m not sure whether you choose to be in one category or the other, or even a third much more different, a fourth, fifth ...

There are a few years, an artist told me about my drawings Don’t hesitate to put yourself in danger. This sentence has never stopped trouble me because I've never understood exactly as if the capacity to do so were not available to me as the infinite is a limit to the modeling of the human brain, my mind can’t integrate this concept. It’s not a disability or handicap but a characteristic of my psychic construction.

I tried, not to put myself in danger - I am unable to consciously put myself in danger - but to decrypt this.
Drawing is my refuge, draw can’t put myself in danger even if I wanted to. To draw allows me to cross the limits, to go see behind the lines, this is what protects me.

The tightrope walker who meticulously prepares its crossings can’t penetrate the void if he feels in danger there. On the wire you have to be whole, on the wire you’re not allowed to be parceled out, it is probably for this reason that you can't  feel unsafe there.

Drawing, writing and reading are my tools to unstitch riddles and search for keys constantly, sometimes in my turn I send warrens on the fly, it’s true, even in a void we would like a company. Walking on my thread doesn’t put me in danger even if it makes me take risks. There is no other choice to dwell this wire continuously, when resolve this situation becomes insoluble the danger resurfaced.

Philippe Petit is a famous tightrope walker, known for his crossing between the tops of the towers of the World Trade Center in 1974. He says I'm not afraid to fall, because I can’t fall.

No matter the reasons why we decided to enter the void, brave danger or living on a wire when the important thing is what is there.

It is obvious that the risks Philippe Petit takes to cross the void are paltry face of what he will look for in there. He is the physical proof if any were needed that evolve in its own void is not a virtuality provided to find the void which we belong or the one we have, which comes to the same.

We can transmit such feeling only by imitation, from its way to the wire without talking to me I hear : Keep on walking to explore your wire

Much to say it,  I know perfectly where is my emptiness, I’m aware of its danger. Like Philippe Petit I don’t throw me on my cable without knowing what I do, without having worked my technique and setup to the ultimate points of clarification, without training or warming up. From time to time in order to progress you have to be a little beyond your own capacity however tickle the danger you might get hardly aware of it and takes the risk of failure.

In New York in 1974, handcuffed when he came down the cable, to the American officer who asked him why he had taken such a risk, Why? Philippe Petit has answered There is no why.

Marina Abramovitz, expert in vacuum, said other words. I noted his talks viewing a video : You have to be ready to fail, go to the unknown territories. If I’m really afraid of ideas this is exactelly the point I have to go. If you don’t taste your mind you’ll never change, always in the same sheet again and again. If you do things you don’t know, something different happen. This is about how you occupied physically the space and why.

There are a multitude of ways to enter the void, with sentences upside down in the same direction, artists, creatives and tightrope walkers help me to progress and find the pace. In vacuum there are several versions of the same thing, of the same word or even of one thought. To convince oneself of that, just replace the word with another,  you can call vacuum, void, empty and wire differently, love, it, myself, top[1], shit, in the end you see what I mean!

Much to say it, even if I decided to come back to earth the ability of some to put me back in orbit once they express themselves come near to the scandal and much to say it honestly, after a stunning phase, would tend to get me a little angry. Because much to say it, some words have the ability to make of me a jigsaw puzzle, and placed end to end, sentences into sentences, dislocate me as effectively as an explosion, scattering me soon as they find me as if they  exactly knew where I am as a whole full. I don’t know where I am every time these " zigzag letters" find me, especially when I start to think it's me they are seeking. Fragmentation can be incredibly painful, but what I mean never is.

Step by step, walk properly outside of wires has become more and more complicated. Out of the empty I lose my balance, my great torment is to leave it, my daily fears are about the dangers waiting for me on the way down.

Some days not like the others, however, I confess, I avoid any empty, unable to hold it. My mind would want, my body refuses, there is no solution, tracking down the answer doesn't changes anything. It is impossible for me to understand why, if I knew I would make sure that these moments don't exist anymore. It is not the solution but the problem which is interesting. With patience anyway, the solution finds me.
Fear and devils vacuum exist at the same time as the danger that nobody can make disappear, but I still remember the words of Philippe Petit. You are not afraid of what you love, though I'm afraid of a tarantula I'll get to know it better, we should not allow fear to feed our minds.

Much to say it, in my case it's hard not to walk in this kind of vacuum.

Despite the contradictory injunctions and prohibitions morbid, Don’t go, Go ahead, Protect yourself, Don’t put yourself in danger, You have to take risks, Think, Stop tortuting your brain, You're breaking it[2], Jump on the top of the world, Be serious, Don’t tell stories to yourself, a vital force pushes exploration.

One should not "say anything against the balance."

Philippe Petit said of his art it allows him to join two shores, to bring people together finally, for dialogue, to link, the image is full of poetry.

Daydreaming on that bridge between two shores, I thought of all the unlikely things that occur when you stop get around them. I remembered a nice story, things joining things, the wires, letters, love and emptiness.

During the First World War, young girls send letters to the soldiers on the front, they have been called Godmother of war, the aim was to support a soldier at the front without knowing him beforehand. My paternal grandparents met through this cross letters and decided to get engaged without ever having encountered. What could bring the heart of a Breton from that of a Burgundy[3] at the end of the Great War remain their mystery, the magic of their encounter is a legacy.

Since 1917 the communication progress has multiplied entrance doors, watch my letters box, emails, text messages or any kind is a daily activity to which I devote myself with an almost religious concentration. Build a dovecot is an interesting alternative to which I think with more and more details, multiply shelters and feeders for all types of birds an investment for the future probably unavoidable. Just in case, my little balcony on the Loing is full of them.

In the void I gleans the words that belong to me, those that leave the people of emptiness, I sows in it for they concern only a one person. In the empty I draw words which have lost their meaning, I invent letters and syllables that don’t express.

Much to say it, to keep a secret it has to become more and more secrecy, such way that even the angels who listen to the doors shouldn’t know the ropes, but the biggest drama when one plays hide and seek is that no one finds us.
Much to say it, I’m not anyone's official muse, that is to say that nobody has claimed me as  a muse and I don’t see why anyone would.

In the vacuum "We don’t know anything except that we don't want to stop" to be in.

"Explain it to me! Explain it to me! "

myriam eyann

[1] In the French text I was making a pun on roof (toit) and you (toi), which is impossible to translate.
Well,  I replaced this with another play on words ... after all it is me who writes
[2] Another pun here lost in translation, se la péter (about the head) mean be puffed-up and by extension can be hear as to break it. I choose to translate the pun rather than the expression which mean to be pretentious
[3] La Bretagne is close to the Atlantic Ocean, and Burgundy in the center. This is really a true story !


Philippe Petit french tightroper
about crossing between Tout of World Trade Center in 1974 14min59 :
conférence, here about the fear 2min02:

Marina Abramovic, serbian artist
Advice to the young 8min45 :

About Godmothers of War  (french links)

And a recent experience of zigzag letter

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There are authors who write with light, others with blood, with lava, with fire, with soil, with mud, with diamond powder, and finally those who write with ink, the unfortunate, with ink simply.

Pierre Reverdy, Le Livre de mon bord