Catalogue for the "MLAKA - Be/Witching by the Bohemian Forest" exposition in Pilsen, Galerie města Plzně, summer 2002
czech, english
Copyright
Galerie města Plzně
www.galerie-plzen.cz
MLAKA
(SWAMP)
Be/Witching by the Bohemian Forest
the marsh is a place where earth and water mingle
the marsh is a spring
encircling to the heights
and a staircase softly descending to the laid tables of the rocks below
the colour of the marsh is green and dark red
a pulsating marshy place
flickering white to pale gold
ascending like echoes of shadows
calm water becomes black in rainbow shades
of the depths of woods
formations of the earth, plants and animals grow through each other, and our sight is never-ending sliding along stratifying outlines, all around in and out
we are becoming
by rocking, returning, dissolving, flashing
if we look towards the eyes of the marshes
tiny hands, legs, back, eyes, genitals
one being permeates another and another and another creates chains drifting through space without end
an indication of seclusion is pallor and lack of moisture
whoever
plant or animal
becomes fragile and vulnerable
the living marsh is an eternity
the marsh is the mingling of water and a place
like the body of the earth
mud
mlaka
the marsh is a challenge
and calling of bodies
the only colour
of the continuous change of chill and blood
the only form and the only formation
blossom and root of the immediate place
cones of the sense of smell searching in the depths of photosynthetic nights
wrinkling skin
opens to the landscape of dreaming
by sticking the watery soil to my toes
I am becoming green
running in blotches of clouds
I am becoming a rainbow perfume
and
like someone dead from the primeval forest
wafting pale
as I burn
by the ravines
by light fibres
and
I am thundering
blackly and awesomely
by head and foot
cut by the moon
I blaze with algae
by fiery cask
as I fall
through images of mists
by wolves
of waves
the march is a dreamy place
a source of light
I am only a man and unable to say much more
but when a woman becomes a spring for the moment
her body shines
like the marshes glow in the myths of us, humans
the marsh
czech, english
Copyright
Galerie města Plzně
www.galerie-plzen.cz
MLAKA
(SWAMP)
Be/Witching by the Bohemian Forest
the marsh is a place where earth and water mingle
the marsh is a spring
encircling to the heights
and a staircase softly descending to the laid tables of the rocks below
the colour of the marsh is green and dark red
a pulsating marshy place
flickering white to pale gold
ascending like echoes of shadows
calm water becomes black in rainbow shades
of the depths of woods
formations of the earth, plants and animals grow through each other, and our sight is never-ending sliding along stratifying outlines, all around in and out
we are becoming
by rocking, returning, dissolving, flashing
if we look towards the eyes of the marshes
tiny hands, legs, back, eyes, genitals
one being permeates another and another and another creates chains drifting through space without end
an indication of seclusion is pallor and lack of moisture
whoever
plant or animal
becomes fragile and vulnerable
the living marsh is an eternity
the marsh is the mingling of water and a place
like the body of the earth
mud
mlaka
the marsh is a challenge
and calling of bodies
the only colour
of the continuous change of chill and blood
the only form and the only formation
blossom and root of the immediate place
cones of the sense of smell searching in the depths of photosynthetic nights
wrinkling skin
opens to the landscape of dreaming
by sticking the watery soil to my toes
I am becoming green
running in blotches of clouds
I am becoming a rainbow perfume
and
like someone dead from the primeval forest
wafting pale
as I burn
by the ravines
by light fibres
and
I am thundering
blackly and awesomely
by head and foot
cut by the moon
I blaze with algae
by fiery cask
as I fall
through images of mists
by wolves
of waves
the march is a dreamy place
a source of light
I am only a man and unable to say much more
but when a woman becomes a spring for the moment
her body shines
like the marshes glow in the myths of us, humans
the marsh
Miloš Šejn
