from "The view with no railings"
In ten minutes I have ten thoughts. I am small paintings, one with a sun sinking in the ocean as if having a bath. I am relaxing, shuffling feet without rhythm.
I am imagining soda pop overflowing in a glass so fast it feels as if it is evaporating into the air. I poured it. Now it’s completely out of my control. The other day I was driving in the car and I was in the passenger seat in the front and I said “Look at that it’s Quatro Vientes,” gesturing at the Mexican restaurant we passed on the street and my hand hit the glass, my jade ring making a sound. They both started laughing. You are like a bird flying into the glass. My glasses were dirty I said in my defense. I discovered a term once for the condition of not being able to perceive the edges of your body. I use it to defend my tendency to walk into things. To outmaneuver this, I spend a lot of time reading, as if a book could cure the edges of my body and harden them. On my left hand I have a fantasy of having stronger, protective edges. On my right hand I have a fantasy of dancing and getting hit on. I am at the Plaza on a Friday night with older Latina lesbians or remember going to raves in the 90s. In this fantasy I imagine my soul as an egg yolk that can be poked with a pin without any of the form going to waste, it being a beautiful tone of yellow. It is being without the fear of dissipation.
I made these drawings and the small paintings to describe the egg yolk experience. I wasn’t thinking about anything to do with art. As a child, I thought that cooking, for instance making peanut butter and banana sandwiches in preschool, was “art” just as much as finger-painting or plasticine.
This collaboration between Tiziana La Melia and Rachelle Sawatsky was commissioned by TCR for the Polymorphous Translation issue (TCR). Get your copy today to read the rest of their conversation.