RWS Jour 62

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I meet Delphine at the sculpture in the morning to catch up before she takes the train to another adventure of hers. As I walk up the ramp, we cross paths immediately and I am overjoyed by the sight of her blonde curls twirling around her face. I have missed her effervescence, and am grateful to have a moment together before her departure. She tells me that it is already the vernissage of the day, and to my relief it is just coffee and juice. We catch up, exchange tales from the past month while laughing in hysteria. My face aches from smiling, and I recall fondly the frequency of this sensation during our time together at the sculpture in June. She explains to me what she has been doing during her time here, and shares an idea for a project she would like to work on here. The nature of our collective project has transformed into one that places emphasis more so on presence rather than production. I embrace this new malleability, and re-invigorate myself into the work. I start to imagine a few different walks, and decide to myself to do series of derives in Bienne, alone, in a way to re-anoint myself with its geography. I am reading Walser’s A Schoolboy’s Diary, in a translation by Damion Stearls, whose talk lays etched in my memory. This is the first Walser book that really resonates with me, and I find myself caught in reflection about his tie to this landscape, and the invented voice of his young curious schoolboy. I am simultaneously full of questions and awe, just like Fritz Kocher. And so, an excerpt from the book…

“I always walked along the same path, and every time it seemed entirely new. I never tired of delighting in the same things and glorying in the same things. Is the sky not always the same, are love and goodness not always the same? The beauty met me with such silence. Conspicuous things and inconspicuous things held hands with each other, like children of the same mother. What was important melted away, and I devoted undivided attention to the most unimportant things, and was very happy doing so. In this way the days, week, months went by ant the year ran quickly round, but the new year looked much the same as the previous one, and again I felt happy.”

Collectif Dandelion