her short red hair.
Rabih Mroue
Mnemonic plate #6
Mnemonic plate #5
عبث
Mnemonic plate #4
i don't have an image of happiness.
Mnemonic plate #3
moving from the popular front to the united front. solution.
For Barbara
I miss you, B.
Mnemonic plate #2
دسترسی محدود است
هر جا پا می گذاری دسترسی محدود است
.
پا می گذاری بر زمین
.
پا بر زمین
نگذار
.
این سرزمین هم مال ما نیست
.
تمام
.
Mnemonic plate #1
I feel disconnected,
I thought about death, I thought about you, and my mom.
Today for the first time I biked without my hands holding the handles, I opened my hands, fearfully, till I lost my balance. But the point was not finding the balance, it was being comfortable when unbalance. I was thinking about you. Your short red hair, and big teeth.
I really liked your big teeth. I loved kissing them with my teeth.
I am still disconnected, from my words, from the language.
I am loosing language.
What language?
A lnaguage
I want to write about a hill, a big red hill over a city but I only have an image. No words, no lines. It is not only a hill. It is an afternoon, with music, two people sitting on a bench down the hill. It is not only a hill, people have been murdered here, early mornings, when we were sleeping. Right here, where I imagine I am standing, lies a body. Lies your body. I am holding your body and running down the hill, I lost you one early morning. I woke up and I knew you were gone. I feel rusty. My teeth are rusty. I got a big scar on my right leg, you have not seen it. It looks like Chile. It is long and brown, it has a tiny little island as well.
You said, I lie. I think you are wrong.
I think, sometimes you can not tell the difference between a truth and a lie.
A LIE.
LIE.
I can never find the truth. The truth about wars, about stars, moon and why we were born.
The truth is I have never seen a dinosaur.
A DINOSAUR.
If I brush my teeth, you will not go away. You are between my teeth, right here. Like a cavity. I should break my teeth to get rid of you. Bad teeth.
The truth is I wont break my teeth.
Here.
you
I feel disconnected from you.
In memory of dearest Harun Farocki
ACRE summer 2014
Friday August 1, 2014 at ACRE. (Click on the image above to see the other images)
Like the lines of a hand, banisters of the steps, corners of the street, poles of the flag, all the segments.. I do not know what I did exactly, It was an obsession, maybe? An excuse, Maybe? I think about silent gestures, their repetition and their context, or maybe them being out of context. I imagine a territory, a fabricated territory where the body inhabits movements.