Photography c-print, 2008


I visit the oldest woman in my family. We are in her last apartment. She is born in the beginning of the last century. She tells me we are the last survivors in this world.

The bird women and their cages.
Strong white, seamless light. Silver dresses.

Forgetting what she just said she repeats the answer to an old question:
-No it's not the end, nor the beginning. Measurement of time is a construction of your capitalistic society.

The light makes me think of Stephen King's film The Langoliers. It feels like we are caught in this apartment in the same way as they were caught at the airport. She lift her head to listen, and says: -Someone is singing an old childrens song.  I can't hear it but she hums and I believe her; where else does those unprovoked sound memories come from? I think of her mental space as expanded.

-The silver dress helps me collect energy from the new light, she tells me while making strong coffee, because information is being transported through us and our bodies are only vessels.
I register how we repeat the same scene from a few minutes earlier: bending spoons, drinking coffee, exchanging the same phrases. She doesn't notice, but I become painfully aware of the fact that from now on, there is an old world but not a new.

At one point in history I know there were plenty of women like her, bird women: that moved to the city from the countryside to work before they got married. Running to the cinema for the sensation of it. Uneducated and married to someone I have never met. They survived the second war through passivity. Like their soldier husbands they were small Gods of their time, but passive Gods. No Gods of strategic decisions. Maybe some women became goods of strategic decisions because of that. But I don't dare asking her about prostitution. I don't think she will remember. Not since the arrival of the blending light that makes reflections, not shadows.

Before she falls asleep she repeats, as if she wants to remind herself of it: -The spiritual love directed towards the same sex makes us androgynies and keeps the lamella to immortality.