Reason Not- Knot
Performance

"The attic is a space to hide"
Three members of the audience (all men) are invited to participate in the performance. They were instructed to stand at the three windows in the attic. Their upper torsos peeking outside the window while their feet remained grounded inside the attic.

I could invent anything and so I contemplated a triangle – a powerful ancient symbol of creation. A triangle with its geometrical forces and mathematical pursuits. I’m at the center of this triangle, I have an in my hand an eye. I’m contemplating the time, and I invite others who might join in and find a way to contemplate their angles. Spoken words accompanied the performance through audio installations. Words that facilitate the rituals of absurdity. To think about a triangle is to venture into its angles, but then angles and angels are all the same. 

Performance Reason Not-Knot, Performance Still, Performed at Embassy of Foreign Artist Geneva, Geneva, Switzerland, 2017

The verses used as audio during the performance "Reason not - Knot".

How ultimate the “Eye” is

The eye with a vision

Minus the reason

The eye that does not foresee.

 

Languidly locked in parades

On a perpetual drift.

Multitudes of civilized inquiries

Moving towards oblivion,

And art…

oh, art…

How art thou?

 

I still enjoy the color of the coffee

The bulge of abundant cliches

The mystery of being here and after

Mortality only brings more slavery.

 

Still the dishes stay afloat in the sink,

The filthy floor, frightened fridge, tired toilets

Muddled shelves                 and

Babbling mouths…

Speech in Bubbles

Bubbles… bubbles… everywhere

On streets

On television

In classrooms

On weddings

On funerals

On the polls and trolls

On and on and on and on…                   Ohh,

My heavenly cow does mow, mow these days.

 

Fumes of Saturday night hysteria

Followed by Sugar-free Sundays.

 

Ladies,

Let’s wash those second-hand labels

Legacies are found in those junk shops

Someone is selling discarded memories

Unwanted wardrobes - loose

On tedious voyages.

Let’s pack them in bundles and cherish.

Our suitcases shall travel far and wide.

Those landfills,

I ignore them, like everything else that,

Trials my conscience.

 

 

Amidst the smudged hills

Hovers the lousiest smog

 

The rising sun commands

And all things are left un- punished

 

All but one,

Unfathomably erased dreams.

The consciousness of mortals at stake.

 

Even in the wake of a final hour

We shall stay obstinate

 

He said:

Arrest the light with ultimate audacity,

 

Some may rejoice     and

Be deeply buried

In to an unresolvable stupidity.

 

If banality had a colour,

           I wonder…

Which one amongst the colour wheel

Be ready – to scarify its dignity?

-

 

Someone stole the cuckoo clock,

But the cuckoo remains,

           Untouched -

Adamant by the time itself.

Reason - Not the knotted one.

 

In the middle of the house

A flight ascends 

A secret door - leads the way

I climb up and an attic…

All muffled up in the low humming

Chorus of its axis.

 

 

                       “An attic is a space to hide

                        Objects and people alike”

 

A poet demands

The journey,

In an intellectual pursuit

           But watch -

The ships are grazing in the field.

                                        

                        “An attic is a space to hide

                         Objects and people alike”

A N G E L S and A N G L E S

           are all the same.

Three points can only be joined

In a singular way.

A deceiving corner

 “Triangle” was thought for

And a “Triangle” was fought for

A triangle is divine

A triangle is blasphemous

The divinity must be worshipped

A Blasphemy…  

Could not go unpunished

 

So there,

What is it about “I”, did I talk about?

I like you,

You like me,

We like each other,

Together,       we shall like others.

Together,       with   those  others.

We shall become -

Other themselves

Liked by ourselves.