Swaying on the swing make me feel calm. The rhythm is taming the noises of my soul, while I am reaching higher and higher with tips of the toes, pushing clouds with my feet and letting the wind rinse my hair once again.
Sometimes I swing in order to pull away from my own weight center, sometimes – in order to start my mechanism anew. With every swing forward and back – fresh breath of air, a series of them. And then the blood starts running faster as my body’s filled with oxygen, imagery’s changing and everything looks clearer, misty horizon discloses contours, forms, textures. And everything disappears again. And it goes on until i bounce and jump and land soundly on the ground.
My grandmother is knitting / something white / something colorful / something white / something white again / and puts it into a crispy bag. Wraps with a string, ivory white with red edge and gives it to me. She says, its for my dowry. Now she knit less and never for dowry, though for me word “knit” is becoming ever more beautiful, as when I hear it, I see what I never saw before – grandmother, swimming in a big water, diving in and out, and then calmly knitting up on the shore.
Old knitted shawls and the smell of dark drawer, squeaking cabinet door, field dried bedding with its barely noticeable moisture, the silence of an early morning, my nostalgia, childhood, dowry.
Performed at Meno Parkas gallery, Kaunas, LT, duration: 2.5 hrs
Photo documentation by Airida Rekšytė
Video documentation by Juozas Ruzgas