(a treatise with a tale and poetry and listing)


Dwarf: the origin of thought
There were seven dwarves, one Snow White. There was one dwarf that after a days’ work in the mines was sleeping with his feet on the pillow. The one Snow White woke him up to tell him he was sleeping upside down. “Is this my house?” the dwarf asked. “It’s yours, but no one sleeps that way”, said the fairy-tale beauty. “I sleep this way in my house. I sleep as I wish. And if you have nothing better to do, go clean up the yard!” said the dwarf, and pulled the blanket over his shoulders (which were between the ankles of the neighbouring dwarves).

Dwarf: instructions for use
From the above-mentioned, it is clear that the instructions for applying the dwarf rule are simple and easy: if you don’t like the music, the smell, the atmosphere in my house – go clean up someone’s yard. If you don’t like what I’m like, how I breathe, how I write, how I sleep, how I paint, how I drink, how I eat when I eat, roll up your sleeves and find something better to do.

Dwarf: credo
My house, my rules. (let’s repeat this once again)
My life, my time, my biorhythm, my tastes for my tongue, my words, my paintings, my desires. My paintings. My words. My solitude, my freedom.
Dwarf: notes from the liver

from make-believe friends,
who only wanted to hear
the stories of my pain.

from pain-in-the-ass worriers
who look up my name in their address books
only after I am gone for real.

from flattering lipstick lips
smiling in lies, acting out
the lunacy of their lives, their highest point.

from declarations of love, hormonal,
rash, easily uttered –
a miserable draught of wind between my fingers.

from the thought of obligation
in the day that is about to dawn:
I don’t have to see anyone anywhere.
I am free from flattering words:
few know what’s bubbling in my liver.
they are quiet, they don’t torpedo me with compliments.

I am free from tensed-up Samaritans:
I always tell my girlfriends
where I’ve run off to, and most often why.

I am free from make-believe friends:
from all critters who want to change me
under the guise of concern for my “social projection”.

I am free from vultures, suckers
of energy, aggressive bitches playing princesses,
crazy pussies playing normal.

I breathe well,
I am wind
between my fingers.
Dwarf: some general conclusions
1. Even though many people want it, if even for a day, it is not easy to be Miro, Igor, Beti, Jovche. Madness, boldness, strength are required.
2. (and a liver beyond all criteria)
3. Everyone is alone, we are all alone. Occasional contact with the resemblances of others is welcome, but not mandatory for deep, free, peaceful solitary breathing. Inhaling, exhaling.
4. My solitude, my freedom.
5. (let’s repeat this once again)

Igor Isakovski

2018-08-21T17:22:36+00:00 November 9th, 2014|Categories: Exhibition, Gallery, Blesok no. 99|0 Comments