OBSCURE REMINISCENCES OF THE MIND
Something that empties the mind. Is it you?
It is a snow-like gallery in the heart of a saturated city. It is the place where the three works are in operation. It is the place where someone can feel as if falling in love at the intersection point of those strong attraction waves. The chemistry of the works slams into the eye in which the same images being reflected with a guilty pleasure. The pleasure is brusque. There is always fear to lose it; it is so strong. Are you brave enough to play it fully? The novice levels are not enough to prove your chivalrous spirit, though. You should go forward. You should face with the fact that surrounds you. Are you being armed? But still feeling insecure as if trying to control unrehearsed, loaded words of praise that slip out to ground. The magnet-like attraction through the images; feeling disturbed by being gazed while looking at them.
An acute pleasure. A sense of hysteria. Paranoid crises without experiencing the preliminary requirements understand it. Violence and aggression seem to be the only stimulant for the warped mind. Destructive.
Movements of mind swimming with the tide of the looping images. The screens are swinging; passionately operates; marble grapes shine on the tray; wooden staircases evokes the fantasies; the gracious chandelier constantly brightens and darkens; the fish net waves while dressing the old, lonely facet; the innocent boy plays with his wicked toy; the transparent feminine glass object glitters. Thousands of stories to remember, to tell, to hide and to forget.
Remembering a devoted attachment to anything. Realizing the fact that it is all about love, nothing but simply about "love".
Just few steps ahead, it is totally assured that the session of déja-vu is in charge with its full productiveness. As if the white dust turns you on. The memories are all over your vision. The inscription of the memoir is clashing with your frustration. Facing with the engraving of the wall in synch with the inscription of your memory. Your mind is fooling around the motives of the inscription. Looping and looping; as if re-experiencing the same thing with the same responses. A motive on an old glass; it is old enough to keep the track of the deep marks of the past. The glass that felt the heath of the lips. Then the moment that you feel the glass breaks in your mouth. A semi-hallucination of the nightmares that crashes the ground while the pieces of breaking glass blinds your eye with the sparkling blue of the dress of the top girl. It is the blade in between being "the precious being" or the "worthless bitch". It is your time to give the right designation for the one who is thoroughly in love with you. You can leave her in the bed alone or you can simply say how easily you can take a risk. But she is just a top-girl. That familiar type. Everyone knows, sometimes adores, sometime ignores. She is simply a top-girl whom you never dare to comprise her with your life. Any way, she must have learned to take the mistakes with her while eclipsing by the shadow of your cruelty. She is a total mistake by her own. So your conscious is clear and ready to consume the nearest, next another "thing". There is always a short-term memory loss, which can make your life decent again.
Are you confident now?
published in "Unlimited.Nl #4" curated by Vasif Kortun. (catalogue)
"On the artist and 'the works' "
"Obscure reminiscences of the Mind"
On Ebru Özseçen and her works.
January.26.2001-March.18.2001 in De Appel, Amsterdam
© De Appel, Amsterdam, 2001
by Basak Senova