The cold makes my face his.
The day has just fallen.
The crisp air turns the grass brittle.
Your fur coat warms my body.
You came to sleep when I awoke.
You work all day and hide me.
But everyday men come,
Searching for the Wrecked Mermaid.
And I have to leave our house.
At night I mend your nets.
You tell me about the fishes
And with shining eyes, ask me to sing for you
It is said my song drives men insane
I wait until you’re still before I sing
Sometimes, then you smile back at me
And sing me insane.
The path goes steeper and the cold fiercer.
Last time the river took our crops with her
I found a piece of silver in the receding waters.
In your coat this morning, I hid the piece of silver.
So it will have travelled with you.
In the other pocket, I placed sands that graze my fingers.
From the beach where you found me.
Where your eyes dressed me
Where I forgot about the Sea.
In your sleep only, I can see how tired you’ve become.
Of trying to keep both of us alive.
I see sometimes in the night
The men and women on the same light.
Black Queen the cards brought me,
When I asked about our light.
Water is stronger than us.
I walk slowly now, tasting ice in my throat
My cheeks are losing their colours.
Soon there will only be darkness.
It is the best time.
This morning, I took my shine of silver.
The warmth of Your coat.
I push aside the heavy wooden lid.
White cornerstones reflect the night.
I know better than talk with you about it,
You believe in dams and roads.
My hands venture out of the thick coat.
Blood flees from my hands as I raise my fist.
The day you found me, you named me Wish.
Shine leaves my hand,
Now is the time for whispering.
I wish, you’d love the same love to another.
I decided on working more on these witches coming from paint drops when I am left alone at the gallery. Since they first came out over-there, it makes sense to have them on for my first exhibtion at the Gallery.
Il en restait un certain nombre des petites chipies caches chez moi ou dans la gallerie, alors pour bonne mesure, tiens, je vais les placarder pour un mois avec des etiquettes (qui grattent) dans le dos.
I was doing the sit-up at art.co. Virtually no visitor. One of those real grey damp and cold winter days. I spend some time changing my pictures. Got my belly under the glass, Regis’ feet and the glitter on the horizons.
Took my CD with Neverland from Marillion on it. Took out Mano’s color box, and a straw. Using Nisha’s technique of blowing the paint.
They all came out, these little witches. They are all smiles, because I was so cold I was blue by 3p.m. and had a real hard time getting the art.co sign back in the shop. Witches, I tell you, I better keep an eye on them.
Can you find which one is Wendy?
Je faisais tranquillement ma permanence a art.co. J’echangeai mes photos. J’ai mis mon ventre sous verre. Et les pieds de Regis. Et des paillettes sur l’horizon. Et puis j’ai sorti la boite de peinture de Mano et la paille pour faire des sorcieres comme chez Nisha.
Dehors c’etait gris et bise d’hiver. Pas difficile a savoir il faisait pareil dedans. Pas un chat nulle part.
Et puis j’ai ecoute Neverland de Marillion.
Et elles sont toutes sorties de la, les petites chipies.
Elles rigolent toutes, parce que je suis sortie a moitie-congelee de la permanence (pas de chauffage dans la gallerie) et j’avais du mal a remettre le panneau perle de brouillard dans la voiture avec mes mains bleues.
Je vous le dis, ce sont des chipies.
je vous laisse trouver Wendy, si je les laisse toute seules devant ma soupe, elles vont faire des betises.
Fran and Jim were not born on the same tree. On the first day he saw her, Jim said: I will not climb down the tree without you”. Fran grinned and said: “you better keep an eye on me, because I am game”.
Neither of them has ever touched the ground since.
Emilie est tres ancienne. Elle est descendue de l’arbre. Parce que l’arbre est descendu. Et elle n’a pas voulu le quitter. Elle a fait une bille avec chaque branche tombee pour mettre sur son cou. Elle raconte des histoires d’oiseaux aux poissons. Et elle transmet les nouvelles des poissons. Il se passe toujours des trucs chez les poissons. Avec le temps, Emilie ressemble de plus en plus a un arbre. Un jour elle fera des fleurs de sel.
Emilie came down the tree she used to live in. She came down, because the tree came down. She did not want to leave him. She carved a bead in each branch that was cut so she could wear them. She tells bird stories to the fishes. She conveys the fishes news from East to West. There is always something happening in the fish world. As time passes, Emilie ressembles more and more of a tree. One day, she’ll bear seasalt flowers.
