THE KINGDOM OF MASKS

As always, I have to thank myself for every time I got off the ground but, this time, I didn’t fall this is a flight without a parachute. It is voluntary, crazy, it is a perverse game: you know you can hurt yourself but in the end you throw yourself anyway, in the end you jump, you jump into the void that void that has characterized your being until now and now you have consciously decided to jump into it. . And, just when you think the tunnel is infinite that’s where you see the light. Unfortunately you do not know if that is just a mirage due to the fatigue of the fall, or you do not know if behind it what will kill you will be found or if instead you will be grabbed by that person who will be there to show you that every time you jump she will be willing to pick you up. But when you jump the risk you know it, you consciously jump in the hope that that person you think took you the first time will also grab you the second time. But she is not there and you fall, lifeless to the ground, without strength, no longer willing to take risks. But then you do it .. Again … and again … and again … because after all we all love and in the end we are all a bit masochistic, because love is this getting hurt and then good and then bad and then good again, in a continuous loop between pain and happiness.

LET’S GO BACK ON THE GROUND

When I look at my animals I see a substantial difference between us humans and them. We have lost direct contact with the ground. The upright position acquired gave us a different view but detached us from the ground, which was the origin of our being. If it is true that we were first fish and then crawling snakes, then to return to ourselves we must return to land. I don’t know if you have a garden or a wood near you. Take off your shoes, socks and get on the floor. Touch the earth with your hands, dig, rasp and start smelling, looking down. It smells everything. Use your nails, dig, tear, go back to where you came from. There will be scents that will come to you, you will see insects, things you don’t look at. Why men have stopped looking. Listens. Dig and see and listen. Our life has become all artificial. We have lost contact with the earth. We need to get back to the ground to get a better look at who we are, where we come from, and where we will go. On the ground, smell the smells. Do not have any perfume on you except our animal smell. Being on the ground and listening to ourselves, all of Nature, listening to the world from which we came and which we are losing. We have to go back to the roots, to the height of the roots, stay down, lying on the ground, remember what we have been because we have lost the right way. We have lost our true inner nature. We humans have become destructive, selfish, unscrupulous. Then we return to the kingdom made of earth and not to the concrete one in which we caged ourselves. We need to get out of these concrete cells. Returning to the open air, returning to what we had and what we are now losing. We have lost the memory of our animal past. We have built a civilization against human nature, against life itself on this earth. We are guilty of having been perpetrators of ourselves. So let’s lie down where the leaves live, where the insects breathe, where the flowers grow, where the mud has covered us for centuries and centuries. We return to our earthly origin and only in this way will we be able to rise up and save this world in destruction.







 

STORY OF A STUDENT

I think: I love your handwriting, who knows where you got that 4 that seems a little wrong to me, but then in reality it's all a bit wrong, so the place we share, you are so messy and you have a lot of vices that basically I would not take away from you

I say: it is absurd that we have known each other for a long time and how is it that we have not seen each other before?

I think: the first time i saw you we were so close and now i know i'm not quiet until you tell me it made you nervous, and i love that you never take it out on me, pout and pretend mad with that muscular giant look and then two minutes later you're already pinching my butt

I say: how nice that we have never argued and neither of us ever wants to find an excuse to do so and we never got angry and we talk a lot and then hey we fucked almost 200 times but you believe it? you know how to do it, that's cool

I think: who knows how he doesn't get mad even when I accidentally break glass glasses or I'm clumsy and dirty something or spill cherries on the table or distract him while he is about to win a game

I say: love put our photo back in the bedside table that is crooked or you always make it fall

I think: I would like to collect your sweatshirts, your papers, your notes, your CDs, your broken pens, your playlists, your books thrown to the ground, your blankets always in very bad shape, your large t-shirts, your funny socks, and I have your sweat on and your smell too, let's go to the shower and I love putting soap in your back and scolding you when you don't dry your hair or put on socks

I say: now I'll make you bed before going out because I don't like how you do it, because you do it badly and eat a little more while we play League so you can show me how to use that character?

I think: come on come closer now that I would like a kiss and you still make me this effect and the shivers more and more I like them very much and when you lock my hands behind my back I don't understand much anymore as when your hands explore, no I don't understand much when you take me by the neck but I feel your breath

I say: close your drawer that there are our things and especially mine

I think: I would like to pierce this bubble of absolute self-sufficiency and tell you that I need you and tell you that all the people I know have always had a habit of comparing and saying 'you are like that, it looks like you' and other bullshit like that, while me instead with you I never had any yardstick and the first times in your house I looked at you and I saw only you, I could not compare you to anything, really to nothing and now I realize that you do not look like anything I have ever seen in my life.

I WAS ON THE GROUND

The last trance was the last trance the one in which she had danced in the rain and in the wind. The storm was out. The storm was inside and the monster had water eyes and thunder arms. She had danced in the intercourse with the ferocious beast, the killer baby, a ferocious feline, a very fast condor had taken her and carried her up. All this and the rest, dispersed, in the raindrops. I had seen and said “follow me” and she had followed the force of the storm. No force was too strong for the challenge, no force was too strong for her liquid pleasure. Following the animal, into the forest, scrolling along the paths where you could not walk. The sound of the night was coming. She told him “save me” and he didn’t answer and hid. The beast came out instead and she took it in her hands and every vein was red and throbbing. She stood looking at him so full of pulsating veins and moving at the touch of his mouth. He told her “get out of me” and he didn’t but he flew up and fell on her and stayed on her back until the wings unfolded well. The wings were made of copper and carried energy. A blackout of harmonic kilowatts entered his ribcage. She stood still, let the transformation begin, what would become of her shell was not given to him to know. He wove heavier alloys on the outside of the wings, but platinum was his single-celled heart. He said “wait”. She felt the metal enter her ribs, enter her bones, come to life and breathe like a second soul. She remained dead. She remained dead. She remained dead. Lying in iron, in metal, in the world of her demon. He remained. It folded its wings and pierced the trees, the rocks, the waterfalls, the lights, the shadows. Everything stood in the way of his new wingspan. Everything was a hindrance to his body. He felt the heavy steel in his arteries. He couldn’t breathe. He told him “kiss me, give me air, I’ll suffocate”. He joined his thin hands and disappeared into the thunder. Anger took her. He threw himself away. It destroyed everything in its path. He pierced the storm itself and crashed into a mountain hidden by the fury of the hurricane. The wings were so heavy. The lungs were struggling. Steel was in every muscle. She got up. Moving his head he managed to swallow some air. He had re-entered her chest. He was breathing now. His demon had regained strength. He had it back. It covered her vital organs. He made her die to make her live better. His mind was ready. The crystals were reforming and in a few hours he would break all seals of piety and humanity. He shouted “leave me!” but he was more inward than ever. It had all its strength, it had its wings. He threw her across the seas like a bullet and she crossed the waves. It was ready. She had returned. The energy passed through her but the strength did not scare her. He closed his eyes. He saw her white eyes in her darkness. Who was? Who are you? Churches. Metal does not melt. The crystals flip over. Polarity swap places. And she became something else. She lay on the asphalt, dust in her mouth, as he screamed obscenities. She was just a victim and was crying. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t escape. He stayed on the asphalt and died inside himself.

WOMEN ARTISTS AND RIGHTS

Louise Bourgeois – Femme Maison, 1946-47

Feminism’s most powerful tool for transmitting the message was surely art, in all its forms. It is true that women were present in art history both as artists and models, but only the latter is widespread and offers plenty of information, while the former barely stands ground. It was the men who painted women, often objectifying and misinterpreting them, and the topic seems to be more than recurrent.

While there’s no doubt some of them are world’s greatest artworks, it was time to bring to light also the achievements of women in the field, and to do it now.

https://www.widewalls.ch/magazine/how-art-fought-for-womens-rights-feature-2015