hold us

Posted on Wednesday September 24th, 2014 by Ines Seidel

May the story hold me, may it be LARGE and bear all of me, may it last long enough to define my FEATURES.
May the story hold YOU, may it be LARGE and bear you, may it last long ENOUGH TO DEFINE your features.
MAY THE STORY hold you and me, may it be large AND BEAR US. May it last long enough to carve out our FEATURES. May it give US NAMES. MAY it be loose enough so we CAN SEE THROUGH IT. MAY IT BE DENSE ENOUGH TO HOLD US FOR A WHILE TOGETHER. MAY THE STORY HOLD YOU AND ME. May it hold us. May it hold you and me. May the story hold all of us.

May the story hold me, may it be large and bear ALL of me. May it last LONG ENOUGH TO DEFINE my features.
May the story hold you. May it be LARGE and bear all of you. May it last long enough to define your FEATURES.
May THE STORY HOLD YOU AND ME. May the story be large + bear all of US. May it last long ENOUGH to define our FEATURES. May it give us NAMES. May it be loose ENOUGH so we CAN SEE through it. May it be dense enough to hold US for a while together. May it HOLD US. May it hold YOU + ME. May it give US NAMES. MAY it carve out our features. MAY THE STORY HOLD ALL OF ME AND ALL OF YOU. May THE STORY HOLD ALL OF US. MAY IT HOLD US TOGETHER. May it last long enough to CARVE OUT OUR FEATURES.
may it be a good story.

text inside and outside of the bowl.

bowl from wire and teabags, text written with ink; covered with wax.
head shapes from concrete made with sand, paper and cement; paint.
The sculpture is 18 cm in diameter and 9 cm high.

walls from words

Posted on Thursday September 18th, 2014 by Ines Seidel

wire houses, with or without a concrete base. Wrapped in spontaneous text written on tea bags, sealed with wax.

(house 1, in the picture above the second house from right, translated from German).

walls from words and windows from soft words and doors from stories and walls from words and windows from soft words and roofs from half sentences and stairs from laughter only the light is simply here. And you are here. I am here.

In between walls from words, windows from soft words, doors from stories and unspoken cellar rooms and you are here with me. We talk walls to each other.

In between light falls through walls from words and roofs from half sentences and stairs from laughter, windows from soft, thin words, doors from stories. You hear here. Here.

And roofs from half sentences and walls from words and everything can fall apart if we don’t catch a new word, but light is simply here. And you are here and I am here and doors from stories, if you believe them. Stairs from laughter, cellar rooms from unspoken words. If you believe them. If you believe words, you are here with me.

(house 4, the smallest one, with English words)

Living inside stories, written on the walls oft he world that has your name on it. Telling you where your limits are. Spelling your name.

Living inside stories. Telling you: You are here. The limits of your name echo from the walls. The story about limits.

Living inside stories written on the walls of your name. If you believe in limits. If you believe in stories, how much room does your name need. If you believe.

Living inside stories, as if they were your skin.

half stories

Posted on Saturday August 9th, 2014 by Ines Seidel

to see the inside
of your story
or the other one,
you have to open them.

I have covered two paper bowls (with text from a found book in Spanish) with concrete. One of them has a bronze varnish on the outside.

They remind me of fruit. Stone fruit, with a hard skin. But when you cut the fruit open, you find no stone inside.

Moss

Posted on Tuesday April 8th, 2014 by Ines Seidel

Tomtits are building a nest below the roof of our house. They lost quite an amount of moss right in front of our door. It just fell out of their little beaks. Nothing special happened. Or did it? What if the moss was meant as a greeting: Hello neighbours, we are just moving in!

What if the moss is a discreet piece of advice: As experts we advise you to make the entrance of your nest a little softer.

What if the moss is part of a curious investitagion: We tomtits use this to build nests and what are you going to do with this?

So I find myself in the middle of a moss story: I am drawing moss, gluing it on paper, I am stitching moss patterns and make moss from wool.

If I place the drawings on tracing paper on top of each other, I get a nice mesh of moss layers. Or a book.

ice cold stories

Posted on Tuesday February 11th, 2014 by Ines Seidel

Your frosty smile –
maybe the tip of an iceberg that is melting.
Because
it can only be cool, the invitation
to follow the trace of your mammoth.

After I have been conserving stories in wax I naturally moved to ice. Frozen water immediately starts melting at room temperature – that fits very well to the stories that are also constantly changing their state. Keeping memories frozen must cost a lot of energy!

You can find more pictures of ice cold stories in this flickr-set.