New article of the artist Anne Macairet, No more
I go to sleep with words that I want to write you, those of a letter open to confidence about every interstices between creative pulsion, true life, projects and so on.
Already one year that I try to write the next article of this True story series with pressure -surely- of writing something clever or, at least, understandable -under the emotion theorisation:
As the immediate thought had no value.
No More
Ironically, I currently read the Girl in a band Kim Gordon autobiography and Chaos in canvas by Kristín Marja Baldursdóttir, so Artists stories with all their confessions Art/life/artworks that tinkling me:
– “sup, what about use your free space on cliophile?”
The beauty of these books are in the people who offered me them.
Chaos on canvas comes from my father’s partner who lent me this book as gift of life saying me:
– “your father was talking of you when I read this book then I told him that this book character, Karitas, is you!
I was so touched in my deep me, especially because I always fell not recognised, as the real identity of my soul was invisible to our partite society.
Girl in a band was offered by my boyfriend with an inscription that warmed my heart,
Who could believe that I’ll found a couple story, a life and family story, full of similarities with one scientist, who gets my fight and need for freedom, social space?
I’m feeling like an outsider who, after graduation (until when I followed the “more or less” average) found no meant-to-be courses.
Where is the “Revealing your deep you in a social materialisation” courses?
Surrounded by relatives who are seeing a difference, I’m reminding to what my mother (though an oppressing and castrative mother/daughter relationship) once told me as an accident in our taboo or unsaid loneliness by text:
– “Anne, some people hardly live, you, you thoroughly live”.
And what about hurting words and groups behaviour that kills you in few secs because envy, difference, incompatibility.
Like this first love that let me axed like a chopped onion by becoming an imaginary ghost, result of my muse desire, assert an abnormality to try turning my creativity into madness.
Pain in the body, kink appears where the blast blows.
To respond to this end of my life attempt, All Inside came up, like a shout.
I filmed women, a lot of women in their forbidden states.
No More.
