The following text is one verse out of three, written for the performance Suspicious Shapes which happened in Hamburg 2017. (Tanja Nis-Hansen)
Suspicious shapes (Verse 1)
The ornament; a populistic attempt to be liked, showing of your new shoes with the risk to be despised.
No one’s falling for the show, no matter how hard you try, to twist and twirl, change shape or migrate into another state
Smile like a pretty girl. Imitate your idols.
Simulate until you fail. Remember all the titles of famous works, by old white jerks. Impressive!
But failure lurks around the corner
Within an object that tries its hardest to reach another state, like the best version of itself, is an honesty.
The purest form of self-sacrifice. A kind of life policy. Nudity and a conscious state of an obscurity.
Something to look upon, some for others to observe, something to hate upon while feeling it’s deserved.
We need the notorious repulsive to feel alive, to feel the horror of the unreleased potential that we have inside, and which will remain.
The lacking thrill of the everyday life, when there’s no way outside of your little isolated ignorant domain.
The boredom eats you up from inside, but it’s alright!
It all accumulates a distaste for the critique, don’t listen to the voices from outside, it makes you weak.
Stop listening to anyone!
Politics, it’s a trick to control our mind, it numbs your brain and makes you weak.
So fake news is now okay, fake dudes in fake array,
and the awaited judgement day now comes with a delay.
A certain amount of being told what’s right and wrong, being explained what good taste is like
“please don’t put on that song”
creates a resentment, a kind of devilish contentment.
A little roar from a lion, far from defeated,
a little rhyme from an acne face that’s now well-treated.
It’s a provincial warrior, the gorier, leaving this mind furious and in the state of unconcerned euphoria
So what manifests in front of you is one person stretched out between four poles
“avoid looking at the crowd”
Convicted for the crimes of pouring out her tasteless soul,
with no greater goal than to fill out this massive hole inside.
And while you observe her hanging there, time and people pass by, and you wonder why
five sticks of bamboo penetrate her slowly, like the eyes of the observers they are beady,
when they approach her from a far, rather greedy and needy
wishing secretly to leave a scar.
Rolling eyes stating that they see themselves as judges, communicate with others through exaggerated nudges.
A golden VIP card for those who feel addressed to take part in the ceremony of the unimpressed.
Eine fortlaufende Reihe, ausgewählt von Neven Allgeier und Saskia Höfler-Hohengarten
Fotografie Neven Allgeier
KubaParis Edition 1 Tanja Nis-Hansen
KubaParis Edition 2 Tanja Nis-Hansen
KubaParis Edition 3 Tanja Nis-Hansen
KubaParis Edition 4 Tanja Nis-Hansen
KubaParis Edition 5 Tanja Nis-Hansen