Vertigo – 8 – 12th day and a little bit after
Friday May 29th 1:00 in the morning.
The night is slowly soothing, the philosophers succeeded one another in time and space, from lectures to individual. The french institute media library as been my shelter, the nest the listeners’s. In the time of a round danse, between two conferences, in lines, quietly they waited for their turn. Merav, Noa, Tali et Rina danced in silence under the threads and the shadows, others tripped over them. The inner blindness of some, made the branches invisible, others ignored them, or fiercely got mixed up. There was also the dreams, mediations and a few snoring. Each one created its singular experience, the questions emerged from the depths or the music for those for whom the words didn’t call back anything familiar. The night is still running but the media library is closed, the access are closing and give the sound piece an other dimension in the « The night of philosophy ». When sound the moment to end, comes a women in a hurry, she has been told that the sound piece would be on display all the night, she is disappointed. I had started to wind the cables, to fold and tidy up. I stop, I install her in the armchair, put the half-light of the nest, she bows to cross the rainfall of red strings and feathers, sits in the armchair, put the headphones on her ears and leave in herself. I prepare my bags, cut white threads of the nest to become, they are so mixed up that they make an other possible nest on the floor, I line up the installation that will remain in the media library a least until its the opening, June 30th. More than 40 minutes have passed. The women was somewhere else, she raises her eyes to me and asks : Is it finish, maybe have I just heard a passage again. She stands up with regrets as it seems, can she take some cards here on the tree of words ? The one she picks by chance are about traces and memory, her questioning is precisely habout it. She says she is lucky to be able to finish her night of philosophy on those question and possible windows, she goes but stays within her. She offers me all that, just before I close this page. I take with me my mother in sound, live the nest overlooking the number 7 of Rotschild road in Tel Aviv, so the readers, the time of few pages, will dream under threads and feathers, I take with me the danse starting between Noa, Tali, Rina and my trees.
A new notebook is opening, I shall share it with you. The sound piece can be heard from this link.