by Petra Ganglbauer
In the beginning, there is nothing, no image, no idea of something that could happen. Yet there is something that begins to emerge, something that first stages its namelessness, its absence: It is what has fallen out of the image, out of time.
When the tension of expectation threatens to become unbearable, a strange new sound emerges: the wind carries something – the wide memory seeks a junction: an irregularly shaped piece of wall or paper: whiteness, potentiality. Light and dark prior to separation. Something still remains suspended, still bearing weightlessness within. Remains swinging. As sound, resonance, echoed space. Behind it, primal silence. Pure sensation, tree.
What blossoms from fingers, forest, dark, temptation, a site of endless search, emerges and merges with the din of the world.
Burning ulterior motive, the murmur underneath, the membrane of the soul, not a word stuck between speech and silence, born over steps, wails, songs. This is propagated, giving form to itself.
Dancing or finding: placing: condensing: idea.
This dancing on the rim is a tightrope woalk, primal fear: the moment, the incursion of light, the dazzle, the scream. What precedes it is unknown, uncharted territory, walking on the periphery.
The accumulation of the image from what has disappeared. The whispering in many shades of colour gives the air a body: seduction, the transformation from something prior to language.
In the center the tissue, a trembly gaze – still faceless – stripped, dyed, mimetic. Possibility, milieu. It is still hesitant, an ondulating gliding, through which it all shimmers: the name, the face.
The coincidences or deviations are endless, reflections lead far beyond the field of vision. What strikes in the wind becomes ever louder. Assumes a gaze or a gesture. The first thought that blows through renders a first gaze. This evades the past: passages, a throw, knife-edged, elusive, vegetal.
The bark, the dress, speechlessness, tonguelessness is cut throught. It proceeds from a state of rest into the word, renunciates the primal image, leaving it behind, continues on, carefully collects vision and language in half of the face. It is still timid, astonished. Now a movement passes through it, pure color, red, the cause, unlimited progress, energetically charged moment, transformation, action.
Insistent. Assumes body. Tilts from imagelessness into the present.
What is new settles. Crystallization: it. Sudden opening. Interface. Zone of sharpness. Illustration. Meta-level. Reflexion. The image speaks: "Daphne Nuova&" – contradiction, contra-sense, thus approaching to death.
Yet doesn't to kill mean to advance beginning?