Dreamlike Real
Gustav Schörghofer SJ
As if the curtain were being raised just a bit, revealing the stage. As if thanks to an opening on the surface of familiar reality it were possible to get a glimpse of an inner world. As if something completely familiar would suddenly appear strange to us, entirely close and at the same time at a remove.
What is this? A cannon spurting balls. They dangle from long wires and have landed in two dishes. Only missed them by a tiny bit. It all resembles a water fountain, something is sprayed, flowing. And a two-piece formation that looks a bit like a cradle, a figure, a cannon, a catafalque. This "big mama" has collected many, many balls in her belly and in a part that has been separated from it. But she doesn’t share anything with us. She resembles a grave, a silent cave. Perhaps something is being brooded. Perhaps the balls are like the spawned eggs of a fish, life, the beginning of a new life? Mother’s womb and burial chamber at the same time. The viewer is confronted with a question. Whoever collects, dies with what he/she has collected.
"… elsewhere" gives the impression of something happening, moving from one thing to the next. Something is conveyed. One part, both robust and delicate, lets something emerge from the inside. It lands somewhere else, is collected and calmed. The rigid arches of the flight curves underscore the impression of a strange stillstand. Everything has arrived, some things next to the dishes. This marks both a beginning and an end.
Flowing and enclosing, sharing and collecting, closing and opening, revealing and concealing: the main motifs of the corporeal and the spiritual, the great themes of life. Yet all of this is strangely aloof, stitched in the black skin of synthetic leather, everything in black. Viewing this formation, one can hardly not feel at a loss. What the viewer sees is ambiguous, eluding comprehension again and again like a fish. That the inner space of "big mama" seems so closed but then it opens itself up to the gaze. The cannon-like formation of "… elsewhere", self-expression that has assumed concrete form, still appears so closed and unclear. This is all something but then again it is not anything. It points to something that it also conceals. What is taking place here relates to the controllable everyday reality like something one dreams to what is made. It reveals something. The curtain is raised but only a tiny bit.
Printed in:
Schau-Stücke. Aus der Galerie der Welt der Frau, publishing house Welt der Frau, Linz 2004
As if the curtain were being raised just a bit, revealing the stage. As if thanks to an opening on the surface of familiar reality it were possible to get a glimpse of an inner world. As if something completely familiar would suddenly appear strange to us, entirely close and at the same time at a remove.
What is this? A cannon spurting balls. They dangle from long wires and have landed in two dishes. Only missed them by a tiny bit. It all resembles a water fountain, something is sprayed, flowing. And a two-piece formation that looks a bit like a cradle, a figure, a cannon, a catafalque. This "big mama" has collected many, many balls in her belly and in a part that has been separated from it. But she doesn’t share anything with us. She resembles a grave, a silent cave. Perhaps something is being brooded. Perhaps the balls are like the spawned eggs of a fish, life, the beginning of a new life? Mother’s womb and burial chamber at the same time. The viewer is confronted with a question. Whoever collects, dies with what he/she has collected.
"… elsewhere" gives the impression of something happening, moving from one thing to the next. Something is conveyed. One part, both robust and delicate, lets something emerge from the inside. It lands somewhere else, is collected and calmed. The rigid arches of the flight curves underscore the impression of a strange stillstand. Everything has arrived, some things next to the dishes. This marks both a beginning and an end.
Flowing and enclosing, sharing and collecting, closing and opening, revealing and concealing: the main motifs of the corporeal and the spiritual, the great themes of life. Yet all of this is strangely aloof, stitched in the black skin of synthetic leather, everything in black. Viewing this formation, one can hardly not feel at a loss. What the viewer sees is ambiguous, eluding comprehension again and again like a fish. That the inner space of "big mama" seems so closed but then it opens itself up to the gaze. The cannon-like formation of "… elsewhere", self-expression that has assumed concrete form, still appears so closed and unclear. This is all something but then again it is not anything. It points to something that it also conceals. What is taking place here relates to the controllable everyday reality like something one dreams to what is made. It reveals something. The curtain is raised but only a tiny bit.
Printed in:
Schau-Stücke. Aus der Galerie der Welt der Frau, publishing house Welt der Frau, Linz 2004
