Bodies & Objects, by Elisa Vassena
Hi you, thing.
(Beginning to wash away our past together, resisting my habitual gaze and – unconscious – plan of interaction)
So… let’s talk as if we were complete strangers.
Texture, weight, volume… what is your smell? How do you move by yourself? And how do I move to make you move? You fit in here and balance there, and you remind me of… and feel like…
Playing with objects: working with surprise.
It is perhaps about swirling back to the feeling of being kids, and to that ability of creating new worlds where things float playfully, carelessly falling in and out of form and function.
Sometimes I like to imagine that the room I am in is a no-gravity zone… perhaps even without a past, empty of any kind of construction. Things escape earthly physics, there is no right way in which they should stand, looked at, be used.
So to start anew.
This first approach very much feels like a spring-cleaning: detoxing from habitual ways of relating to our inanimate friends, to treat them simply as other bodies, peers and performers, belonging to the same landscape.
Only a fresh gaze can open the opportunity for them to become – or better perform – something other than what we know them as.
THEN it’s all about time…
Time expands and time gets you lost in the yet unknown field of their corners, endless possibilities, multiple personalities, specific properties and needs.
But it soon turns rough!
You find yourself miserable, on the verge of crying, so frustrated you wish you were that object, to end a painfully long decision-making process, abandon a bundle of problems to solve, and for once be the silent one…
BUT something happens. You eventually understand each other and you can enjoy a peaceful holiday with your thing-friend. Unfortunately, a brief one…
Abruptly, a grey layer of boredom destroys the paradise, as if you have suddenly become an old married couple caught up in crystallised habits.
THEN (miraculously) time saves you again, and, if lucky, you land in a mind frame where you could spend days in the same cardboard box and still find more.
More of everything and anything.
It is certainly a game of endurance…
And every time, overtime, inanimate things teach you more about the anatomy of your own thing (your body), the anatomy of your imagination, enriching the way you look at, relate to, embrace what surrounds you.