subconsious journal

Subconscious Journal Entries (ongoing project)

Technique/Materials:    Text

February 5th. 2016, Copenhagen

February 8th. 2016, Copenhagen

January 24th. 2016, Copenhagen

Det tog 10 år før de fangede fisken. Men hvor løb den

hen. There was a box that you were carrying but

you didn't dare to look inside it. There were small

squares on the inside walls and when you touched them

blisters were made. These didn't come natural

to you, but then again who shouldn't do that. When

there comes a big wind around you, you are but a

stick cutting through the wind. If you wear a

brown trench coat, you might even look like one.

She seemed to have her knowledge with her

but there was a portier who kept keeping

the door closed. He felt he had no choice.

Those birds didn't dive, but I couldn't

identify them either. There are things you

just didn't know about, but when the time

was right, it didn't matter to you anymore.

Sometimes it felt as if there was more, but

now there is less of it. There were days.

For most of the year I kept my mouth shut.

Trying to keep out of the cold wind. Swallowing it

might make me cold. But the throat is warm.

Swarm. Would she even matter or care or who

is she. She wants to think like me, she

did. She took up a basket, bottles of milk in it.

We told her that it might break, fall out like that.

It never happened. So we forgot about it.

Then comes silence. After all these days there was still

not one single acorn hanging on the branch. For me

it felt as if I wasn't there. But we

managed to smile and wave to the sea

some day. When we talk we know what sounds will

come out but we never know what will occur

when you put your mouth in motion. There are ways you

haven't tried and ways you won't and shouldn't

these are green. Tell me what to think about

the old tree, the old car and the squirrel. Did it take off

just like you said? Should we not stop this one.

What do you think of when moving through the room.

Colors change and we move. Circles of colors are nothing

more than what we want them to be. There were

few things he didn't want to tell her, but

we saw that he tried to, so we took up a shovel

and helmet and held it in front of her face as a

warning not to go too hard when it happened.

Then the Earth shook and she woke and we

saw the the crack was filled with rainbow colored

grass and so we could crawl down into the

crack and pick seeds. Since you hadn't been there

there was no way of telling you what

you should have done, had I

been there. So on.

Watching the window showed me when to go and how to play

the part that I hadn't thought of. Sometimes in the

house we move around like words and do a little dance on

the floor which has many pieces of sand and ways of

moving. You once said that there were many ways of

doing this, but I never knew the real way. We showed her

around the ways of movement and where to go to get some

cars in the head. So she wouldn't want to do it no more

but who were we to decide for her

either way. She took up words

and told us to forget them

That she wasn't going to think anymore

I thought it strange but remember that it was also

ok to close the door to the corridor.

Maybe the carpet would get mixed up and the door wouldn't open. Sometimes when

it happens, we don't know, how long we will have to stay

in that room. The corridor is made of dark dark varnished

wood. I can see it through the keyhole. I can also see

the rugs, but they are not mixed up. So sometimes I can play

outside like butterflies, trying to be caught in the hand. It's yellow.

Julie Sparsø Damkjær @ 2016