Spill is different than spit.
Spill has no confidence or projection. Spill simply happens. Most times, and what makes it rather unique, involuntarily. Involuntarily so, we spill. I do, at least. I tend to be clumsy. Might have to do with long limbs? Or short neuron connexions? Anyway, the fact is, I spill. A lot. You know, when I spill I feel guilty at first. Seems inadequate, inappropriate, imperfect. Something to hide and apologize for. What if, asks this Frist, what if the spill is actually the rock? What if the spill is the jam? Very liberating, because when spilling is welcome and even celebrated, I am a master at spilling. And I have a huge collection of spills to share. Right, they do look like accidents, they are imperfect, even clumsy. Uninteresting perhaps. And yet, when opening up to the possibility of them, of what they might teach, then, one might find peace of mind. Or of body.
Spilling away, Frist brings to you this month a video editorial on, you guessed it, spilling (click link video above), and a feature work in progress, on structuring and slowing down the spill.
Spill is always imperfect and in motion. It kind of laughs at you when it happens. It makes others laugh as well. Why would it then be so shameful?
So, spill rock it, spill till it hurts, till no spill no more. And you see, there is no effort or checklist involved. Just turn up the human, and you will spill it up. Naturally. Without coaching or manual. Spill be it. And tell me about it.
Would you kill it?
Would you kill a beloved object?
While Making It Together.
A project, just kicking-off, in which I invite a small group of people to come, one by one, and make an object together with me. We'll make an object composed by objects, each one brought, killed, sacrificed, by each one of us. A personal object which belongs to their life, with a meaning and history to them, and which they are willing to say good bye to.
I started sacrificing the first object: a green chair.
And I say sacrificing because the feeling while starting to wrap it was of killing it, actually. It was quite an emotional moment.
I welcomed the chair into the atelier, in LUCA School of Arts, in Brussels. Unwrapped it from its traveling plastic sleeve. Mounted its legs. Then, said goodbye to it.
Good bye, thank you for the times together. I remember buying you in the flea market, cleaning you up, moving you from home to home, from Madrid to Zurich. I remember sitting on you, having many friends and family sitting on you too, moving you around, seeing you day after day. Now I have you in Brussels, where I say goodbye to you in your current form and life. Goodbye, and welcome to your new form and life.
I picked you up to make my very first exercise of connection with an inanimate object: 50 Resting Postures With Chair. That was the beginning of this crazy shift from working with and from concepts into working with and from the body, the start of exploring what happens when giving time and attention to the objects around us.
If I wouldn’t kill you, I would let you die a slow death. You would be part of my home and life for a few more years, and one day you would be weary and old, not as bright. I would change you for another pop, and would donate you or put you out in the street. I'd kill you by letting you age and slowly die - as an object, and in my life.
I said goodbye to it, then started wrapping it in bright pink thread.
Which object would you choose to kill?
With a goodbye ritual, and giving it a bright new body.
And sacrifice it to link it to other bodies, unknown bodies. Perhaps awakening it into a new life.
Or, would you rather let it die?
Looking forward to your thoughts in the comments below.