It is we [the workers] who built these palaces and cities, here in Spain and in America and everywhere. We, the workers. We can build others to take their place. And better ones! We are not in the least afraid of ruins. We are going to inherit the earth. There is not the slightest doubt about that. The bourgeoisie might blast and ruin its own world before it leaves the stage of history. We carry a new world here, in our hearts. [...] That world is growing in this minute.
Buenaventura Durruti, spoken during the Spanish civil war to Pierre van Paassen.
inspired by kiefer – and a serendipitous find in a local charity shop – i’ve been reading about lillith. lillith the she demon fabled to haunt the ruined cities.
demons and ghosts seem very real to me, and ruins i find inspiring – a lot of people find ruins inspiring – peculiar structures. like the hand peeling back a coffin lid from the inside; in those spanish blind dead films. whether it be ancient or contemporaneous ruination. (question: can one be analogous of the other? now we document the destruction of living structures the digital arenas fill with ruin.
and we are haunted; our lives and our civilisations are broken apart constantly before us and ghosts loom over us)
like fossils of cultures.
when is culture not imposed?
Churn water to get your butter,
And squeeze a bit of stone and hope for honey;
Or else your fevered frame perhaps you’d cool,
Washed in the waves of a mirage’s pool?
Perhaps you’d rather try to get a drink
Milking that worn-out she-ass? What do you think?
It’s not so foolish as to earn the money
To live upon, by service to an utter
Knave and fool.
Amura (translated by John Brough)
A Message to the Universe by Kazuo Ohno, 1998:
“On the verge of death one revisits the joyful moments of a lifetime.
One’s eyes are opened wide-gazing into the palm, seeing death, life, joy and sorrow with a sense of tranquillity.
This daily studying of the soul, is this the beginning of the journey ?
I sit bewildered in the playground of the dead. Here I wish to dance and dance and dance and dance, the life of the wild grass.
I see the wild grass, I am the wild grass, I become one with the universe. That metamorphosis is the cosmology and studying of the soul.
In the abundance of nature I see the foundation of dance. Is this because my soul wants to physically touch the truth ?
When my mother was dying I caressed her hair all night long without being able to speak one word of comfort. Afterwards, I realized that I was not taking care of her, but that she was taking care of me.
The palms of my mother’s hands are precious wild grass to me.
I wish to dance the dance of wild grass to the utmost of my heart.”