There are two categories to everything I have read or saw this past year and they are completely coincidental. One category is love, connection, sex, conjunction. The other is void, separation, felling of aloneness but not loneliness, quiet. Sometimes I feel this strange mood building itself around the things I experience. The book Never Let Me Go with its exquisite attention to unimportant detail that later on turn to be the pinnacle of what one can experience. The vastness of emotions that cumulate together into one insane, complicated cry and present to us the utter misapprehension of existence. It’s simply devastating.
Then the movie The Signal which is simply beautiful with scenes of terrifying depth hidden behind a linear unassuming aesthetics. The swirl of a story told before, put together hastily, with a touch on so many themes one feels almost suffocated by the variety of ways in which to follow. And should one follow? Questioning the humane in us, the aloofness of the human kind, surely at the end we would choose to follow. But less so for the mystery and more so for the devastation.
After that came the odd little feature Frequencies which was lovable and damning in the same scene. At the very moment when one almost got bored with the quiet wittiness, it became excruciatingly more twisted. Characters developed outside of our view and overall there was a strong notion of connection in a world which was introduced as void of connection. A sense of individuality at one point strong, at another irreparably damaged, all wrapped up neatly in sound.
Then I saw both Munch’s and Klimt’s The Kiss followed by a very unusual romantic experience with someone I didn’t really want to get to know. In both of these paintings, the man has a veil of complete anonymity – there is not a hint as to what he might look like or what kind of a person he is. In both paintings, the two lovers are painted as one with no division between their physical bodies. In both, they assume the exact center of the painting and their influence is seen in the environment painted around them. In Munch, one can see gentle radiating waves, pushing the fabric of space onto itself. While in Klimt, the golden spectacle pushes to the borders of the paintings and the woman inseminates the earth. And yet from both paintings, one can feel a certain concern. Why?
And then there’s this song which was covered by Placebo and Chris Corner of IAMX and somehow it explains this concern to me. It let’s me know that there are sounds that cannot be put into words and I am now content with never getting to know who that person was.