The void, the
photographer and the kaleidoscope
(photo : Kit Brown/ texte : Dejan)
He closes his book with temper. No will to continue,
to struggle with these obscured thoughts. Words everywhere around him ; piles
of books, copied quotes all over the wall and attempts of his own texts from
him too… he only tries to though, cannot go further than fragments. What he
does from his own interpretation of reality is as weak as his life seems
desperate to him.
“Just my imagination… running away from me”
Rolling Stones
Even listening music gives him the impression of
losing his time. He has to work, to go back to the text, as complicated as
Deleuze can be… Why? What’s the point? What for? Let’s get loose ! After a
quick and disgusting coffee ; the one euro packet. Though time for the
poor writer’s challenge… lost in the thought’s web, trapped within the
superimposing of ideas, concepts and projects… Trying to do one thousands
things at the same time, deeply stucked in the XXI century. It goes too fast,
too quick… too many signs, too much light and electricity; movement and fury!
Madness and disaster!
Foucault said that this period of time was to be lived
in the Deleuze’s world…
There is so many different entries in this hazy
society surrounding us… Why did he came here? For what reason? And what reason
has to do in there? A dream coming true or a fantasy he’s trying to chase?
whatever! So he came to Paris, trying to become what they all did before… full
of energy and desires, a romantic point of view… confronting an ideal past
floating in the valley of utopia with a furious present consuming around him.
Don’t
give up! Feed yourself with art, go around these streets and feel and observe.
Dive into the pool of unconsciousness this world went in… be a witness of its
deconstruction! This is why he came for in a way. He prepared his stay during a
long time. He considers it as a once in lifetime possible experiment, no way to
fuck it up. Anyhow he’ll make it through; even he has to cross loneliness and
misunderstanding.
It’s
funny how we can have hopes and dreams about the future, like if a simple
change of space and time would cure all the inner fears or something. Always
projecting ourselves in better state of mind, happier conditions… the will of
easiness to come… He was constantly thinking about the book he would write in
Paris, the places he’d visit and so on… being free to work, alone and six
months in front of him… meeting crazy people everyday, walking in those famous
streets with the big names of History and literature in his head, visit the
legendary museums and contemplate the masters of painting. Cultural ecstasy! Artistic
climax! He could imagine himself walking with frenzy with Tropic of Cancer under his arm reading his old bud with bulimia,
crossing the city with Miller.
Anyway
he could, he was preparing his experiment in the best dispositions… A book
about the historical repetitions… Taking one place, Paris actually and let evolve four different
times in the space. A schizophrenic journey! Like if Rimbaud and Artaud were
making the biggest scandal of Saint-Germain-des-Prés’s history together with
Guy Debord and an astonished citizen of the twenty first century… The biggest
challenge was first to select the appropriated periods of this strange human
history we know about. Most of his cultural heroes lived or went through Paris, at one point at
least, so let’s dive into the worlds they’ve all been through and make it one
imagined universe out of time. So the fucked up 60’s, the fucked up 20’s, the
fucked up 2010’s and the fucked up 1870’s… How to construct such a novel? So he
reads like a desperate student who didn’t learn quick enough for his exams… why
so much hurry? He reads at the same time books about the history of Paris, sociological books
about the cities, the surrealists writers, about the dada movement and Rimbaud,
about may 68, Deleuze and Debord, Zola… it’s never enough, he’s always behind
his work. So he got sent into the Library
of Babel, without knowing it yet… Trying to construct the book, he makes
plans, takes remarks and so on. He’d like to be able to have a vision of the
whole thing before throwing himself in the never-ending fiction’s
possibilities.
So
he was full of hopes and energy… but as the beginning of the experience would
approach, he’d feel the strange feeling coming from the abyss’s of his body. He
built up a strong believe in his mind that being away from his girlfriend would
be fine, she’ll come and meet him there, so no way to worry for one month. He’d
give jealousy a kick in the ass! He’ll be strong and adult this time… No fuck
around he promised himself. Trying to avoid the useless waste of time caused by
his lack of self-confidence…
So
he got there. The first few days were happy. Summertime and her presence nearby… nice way to start… But he could feel the hidden fears, the gloomy
shadows ready to go through his body and make a hell of his life. Unable to
name them and to see what’s to come, he tries to enjoy those few days of weightlessness,
this bracket of illusion within a furious reality just around the corner. And
it consumed itself, the easiness of course!
And
then the void came…
And
it came tremendously, without any warning! Fucking emptiness! The sensation took
him right at the bottom of the guts, right there on the platform when he was
sayin’ goodbye… Crying all the sadness inside of him, all the fluid he could
get rid of, feeling lost, empty and desperate in the middle of this never
ending city. For the first time, he’s fully confronted to his own self… he
dreamed about it, saying it was he’s only way to experiment the spirit he came
to seek… Again the bitter gap between what he thinks and what he lives scares
the shit out him. Back to the room he’ll live in during his stay in the
capital, he has a quick and lonely look around: beside all the books and his
papers, all he can look at his the sexy little shirt she forgot… a material
ruin of her celestial presence in the room… like her smell still floating… and then
it disappears. All he has is a few euro left, a little bit of weed and the
affliction he carries around!
