two little coincidences

i made this picture yesterday of myself (hein hein) and cut it into pieces and then pasted it back together again. i called it "all cut up". it had been a couple of days on edge. a cold making bad mood. a jealousy creating silences. at the hardware store i wanted to cry at his impatience while i was gazing at the different shades of cream. when something shattered onto the kitchen floor i heard him yell "putain". at night all i wanted was to touch and be touched. but things didn't work out that way. then i said like a drama queen "maybe you need a break" which really didn't make things any better. i was on the couch after that, smoking and feeling sorry for myself.

i didn't sleep long and felt crappy this morning. of a night not falling asleep happy. the scales had definitely not reached any equilibrium and all was so askew. i tiptoed into the kitchen and made some coffee. the cups and glasses needed to be washed so i went to the task. darn those thin-glassed mustard jars that i kept for drinking just like my mother used to do. a cupboard full of mustard glasses instead of buying a set... i scrubbed, i hear a "pop" and push my pinkie deeply into the glass. i yell "fuck" though i had been worried at his "putain". but i see blood pouring. another finger now that will be scarred. my tears did not stop the bleeding. but really my eyes had been brimming over since last night. typing this hurts badly.

i openend my mail and read my french newsletter. my "homework" learning french. then i see the word of the day: "un entracte". clicking on the link i read to find out that it means "a break, an interlude, an interruption"...

cuts and breaks. cutting into your flesh with my words. breaking bowls and glasses to be able to cry and vent. how twisted we are...

red velvet

red velvet, originally uploaded by marinkel.

i used to have this puppet theater and put on shows for my sisters, cousins and friends. i could make everyone laugh. sometimes i would just make silly faces sticking my head through the curtains. they were red curtains. i wish someone had held on to my theater. but i thought i can make my own theater now, with taking pictures of things i love. i need not own them, or hold onto them. photographing memories prevents all the clutter in dusty corners. and it shines into the dark corners of your mind.

i sat in the darkened theater after the show. and it felt like i was one of my puppets putting on my own show for no one. no one laughed, no tears rolled. a perfect silent equilibrium. with black velvet curtains and high ceilings where no one had hung their tired body. sometimes someone would walk by and i would listen to the disappearing footsteps like echos from a distant world. lost and found in my own world. no moment has ever been more perfect.

dedication

dedication, originally uploaded by marinkel.

the first time i came to this place was in 1988 when it was still a mental hospital. my friend kurt who was fascinated by the sixth dimension and abandoned gardens in hollywood drove me here one night to show me where the "crazy people" lived. like most institutions it was built on the far edge of town amidst the santa monica foothills near the pacific coast. when you drive there, your radio signal fades. as we circled the white walls of this spanish hacienda style facility, sounds of a piano played beautifully reached our ears. supposedly they came from the hands of a once famous pianist who had apparently lost it. but not her talent as i could tell. legend has it that the eagles song "hotel california" was about this asylum. a song played at my highschool graduation. a song ringing in my ears every so often...

then the hospital closed. this was part of a large sweep of closures begun during the reagan years. thousands of mentally ill patients were sent out into the streets. many of the homeless are the victims of this measure. for years the buildings stood empty, untouched, and abandandoned. one could wander the halls, visit the autopsy rooms, watch the torn curtains flutter in the santa ana winds. but there were plans for the place to make it a college. this came true about ten years after its doors had closed to its rightful owners.

so i returned to camarillo state hospital as a sort of inmate in 2002. well, a student... many of the buildings still had bars in front of their windows. weeds were covering courtyards. the ghosts of the insane were lingering in the halls and former dormitories. this first year one could still go inside the abandoned parts but soon yellow signs were posted everywhere warning you not to trespass. i missed the opportunity to visit the still-intact autopsy and electric shock rooms during one guided halloween tour. after this i met the friendly groundskeeper who sported a gold tooth when he smiled. "i'll show you around some time", he offered, when he saw me walking around with my camera. but i missed the necessary courage to take him up on it. so my pictures only show the outside and a few glances in when i could poke my lens through a broken window.

sometimes i hear things. do you?