Showing posts from June, 2020

Subterranea experienced through the body and the body experienced through Subterranea

picture by Daniela Ramos Arias On the 28 th of June 2020 I had the chance to join a very cool workshop in Hordaland Kunstsenter. The dancer Noam Eidelman Shatil guided us through a different way of experiencing art. In the room the exhibition Subterranea by Lene Baadsvig Ørmen. Lene’s art was put in relation to Noam’s art thanks to the initiative of Daniela Ramos Arias, the curator of the mediation program for Hordaland Kunstsenter. It was announced that the the workshop aimed at being a medium through which we could experience Subterranea and the space where it is installed. But for me, it was much more than that. It was also, a medium to relate to my own body and seed to invite reflection regarding the places of human bodies and the function of art. picture by Daniela Ramos Arias Noam invited us, six diverse women, to put our bodies in the center of that experience. For me, it was the first time that I went to an exhibition of sculptures without letting my bra

a poem response to "This is just to say" by Willian Carlos Willians

    “This is just to say” said Willian Carlos Willians it is never just to say, for us you pretend that equality is a given but my skin knows a different story no one gave you permission to eat my plums nevertheless, you, as so many others believe that somehow you were born with the right to not take me seriously I repeat my days dancing the role of the lovely homely female other I try so hard to take care of you I spend too many hours building a fragile home for you to be big and whole I will say again that there is no problem You had the right to eat the plums You did not have to ask anyway I will repeat the lie stuck on my skin I will pretend to be this smaller me I will play the role of the lovely wife and disappear another centimeter without you noticing it the plums were not yours I wish Kali could hold my hand and give me the strengths to scream stop instead I will replace the plums in case your hunger needs more

dusty thoughts

all my thoughts are dusty melancholy should have been my name my parents decided on the name of the white dentist instead the choice represented my mother’s hope that I would become an independent woman after my mom pushed me out through her vagina she saw my dark face at that moment she knew that I could not be named after the white dentist instead, they gave me the name of a princess from a faraway land my whole life I think I’ve been longing for the life of the independent one trapped on the shoes of the princess I am the one that papa will save the one that exists lo love  in an unhealthy possessive way all my thoughts are dusty covered with the rests of every little dream that I let die rocked by a longing for other times times that I don’t know but that I got used to imagining as better and brighter than my now my thoughts easily relate to what is not here they want to belong to someone that I am not they want to draw a fantasy land where who I want to be exists there the dre