“Who said that time heals all wounds? It would be better to say that time heals everything except wounds. With time, the hurt of separation loses its real limits. With time, the desired body will soon disappear, and if the desiring body has already ceased to exist for the other, then what remains is a wound…disembodied.”
Samura Koichi in Chris Marker’s ‘Sans Soleil’
These lines from Sans Soleil resonated in my mind since the first time I saw this film: now a film I have watched many times and one of my favourites. In fact I can say that it was that film that perhaps brought me to Japan or brought Japan to my attention. The sight of the ‘Sleepers’ on the trains, the museum of mating animals in Hokkaido, the hypnotic movement of the Bon-dancers.
WHITE began with a brain scan. Photos of my head were taken because I had a problem with my vision: 365 photos in total, a number that echoes the days of a year, each fragment of a whole that makes up an element of time, of my life. I was told I might have a condition that would affect my nerves, something wrong with the WHITE matter: all this was communicated through translation. The last part was the wound.
When I was creating WHITE I was thinking about the difficulties I have had in communicating: difficulties that were not always sad or alienating ones. Instead this separation gave me the freedom to be an observer, an outsider, ‘a fly on the wall’ and I could reflect on what words attempt to do. How thoughts and words are connected to the time of our own bodies, our social bodies and the time of others. I always seem to be out of time, in my lack of words, but I am always punctual although I don’t even have that essential of modern communication, a mobile telephone.
Of course in the solitude of the studio and faced with the prospect of one’s own mortality, Love becomes a frequent point of return for the meandering mind.
Words, time, bodies, brains, heads, choreography, systems of command, hierarchies, and love, all these things still populate the WHITE page.
It is unfinished.
WHITE actually began with a dream of a dead polar bear with a deep wound on its back.