Letter To a Lover,
London, 18th June 2006
It is strange thinking about my own death.. my departure. I feel vertigo. When I was a teenager I used to have anxiety attacks about dying.. the fear of dying made me want to kill my self.. now I conceptualize it.. I make my own death the crown of my own art piece.. the artwork that I will never see.. now I’m not scared of dying. I’m scared of loving.. that should have been living.. a spelling mistake… a freudian slip… last night after making love.. fucking.. making love ..fucking… making love, you told me, once again that your orgasm was like dying… a little death…and afterwards while you were sleeping, in your house, I left the start of a thread leading to my own death. In years to come at a museum somewhere.. that screw from my coffin.. no matter what will happen between us.. will irreversibly be linked to and connected with you.. via your house and every other place I been. I will always remember that very moment of unscrewing that screw.. you still in bed.. sleeping, me suddenly feeling insecure.. scared not of death but yes of love.
Between me and you the world will be rearranged. Everything will be different.. yet everything will be the same. The beginning and the end intertwined.. in your house… the screw that’s missing.. that little hole a symbolic anticipation of my own departure.. it will be just like that.. a little hole.. maybe in someone’s heart.. but other than that the world will stand.. just the same.. without collapsing.. like your house…
Maybe one day there will be a crowd outside that house.. on some kind of “London Hidden Art Treasures ” guided tour, the guide pointing at your house ….” this is where it all begun….”
I will call this project ”This too shall pass” this is a sentence which can be both comforting or sad depending on the situation. Comforting when you’re suffering but sad when you’re happy. I’m thinking about how to leave a trace without adding anything. About the incomprehensible which is my own death About facing my fears. About the motivation behind creating. leaving traces..making marks. About time passing and about all the little deaths in between.. about love.. connections.. anticipation.. beginnings and endings.. permanence and change.. about us.