revival story. Ines Seidel.
content of a story.
looking through a story. Ines Seidel.
stories, told in a circle.
stories with air and ice.
shapes of stories
Tag Archives: Geschichten
walls from words
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.
stories, rolled aside
Old stories. At first stacked up like a tower, then rolled aside. After a while I could see them or at least imagine to see them everywhere: next to the entrance, in the kitchen, on a bridge or leaning on the fence of a playground.
for additional pictures click here.
on onion skins
I speak my life
As if it was written
On onion skins
Hoping for the one
Who listens sharply
Like a kitchen knife
And stays despite the tears
Until we get to the core.
ice cold stories
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.
