A common complaint of today’s sighted: I can no longer bear to look. Someone proposes the role of the artist as scribe, as ear for the abused, writing backward into the dream, imagining that if one speaks the horror aloud, another might be released. From what is uncertain, but any horror is magnified when suffered alone.
The sounds a body makes in distress are the sounds it holds before language. Where pain shatters language, perhaps it is still possible to pick up the pieces, assemble some makeshift wordhouse again. To the challenge of yes but is it true, the only answer is a reminder back to an earlier truth about the basic needs of a body. One is shelter.
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Inspired by Philip Metres’ description of the work of artist Daniel Heyman and others in response to torture.
Beautifully written. “…any horror is magnified when suffered alone.” That is an important insight.
Thomas, thank you.
So very true.
However, some of us prefer to leave the past in the past.
Different strokes for different folks.
I read this when you first wrote it, Stacey, and it moved me so much, but I didn’t know how to put into words how I felt about it, other than to say, how much I identify with it. I’ve had this piece held in an open tab on my laptop with the intention of coming back to it. And I keep coming back to it again. It really hit home for me. The lines you wrote, ” imagining that if one speaks the horror aloud, another might be released. From what is uncertain, but any horror is magnified when suffered alone.” It’s just so, so true. Thank you for sharing such a poignant piece. X 💕
Ellie, thank you so much for sharing this. xoxo