28 September - 8 January 2012
When I ventured through the Pipilotti Rist exhibit last week I was filled with this intense happiness and hope. I felt calm and expectant, life has so much to offer me, how lucky I am!
I laid down on the comfortable pillows that was actually stuffed clothes, put out for the audience as an invitation to "Be my friend" and to relax.
While looking at the sheep jumping in the meadow, I was dreaming about painting my baby room yellow. Could I dare wish for a girl this time I wondered... holding my hand gently over my belly, smiling and enjoying the films.
Pipilotti Rist was not given this enticing name, she was born Elisabeth Charlotte Rist in June 1962, in Switzerland. Pipilotti was her nickname inspired by Pippi (Astrid Lindgren). Her work is often happy and pretty, mentioned as a feministic artist she deals a great deal with sexuality and gender.
In one video she talks about how she grew up close to the highway and learning about goodness... then she skips to talk about how we would react if a relationship broke up? How would we answer that and to whom?
And that takes me to where I am today, can I talk about what I am going through and with whom?
The day after I saw the exhibit I had some sort of "The Help" experience in my bathroom. (like the book and the movie). I said out loud "No", which my cleaning lady heard and came running in to find me crying over spilt blood, holding me and telling me that has happened to her many times as well.
So there I am standing with another loss, and the only thing to do is to open a bottle of champagne with my husband when he comes home (we do that when the world goes us a bit wrong, as well as when we celebrate... well, there is always a reason). Then the next step is to go out drinking with another friend who has had five miscarriages before (but happy now with 3 girls) it makes it "easy" to have some gallows humor about the whole thing. Since this is my 4th time, I know the pain doesn't come at once but more likely the next day so I decide to get drunk... and save the pain for later. The next day I am barely walking but getting to the hospital for my scheduled gyno appointment (how convenient) at the Chelsea Westminster Hospital, where I was met with great kindness and support. This time they took lots of tests to see if they can stop it from happening a 5th time...
When I walk out of there I can't handle the fact of going home empty handed, so I take the bus to Harvey Nichols and carve myself desperately through the myriad of clothes and find a mustard yellow Marc Jacobs sweater that I find could tame my cravings a little bit... (My intention was tight jeans and stilettos but I was bleeding too much to even try some on). Then I ventured to the bus where I leaned my head on the window (with my Mothers words in my head "Who does such things? Others would go home and lie in bed") until I finally reached my house and could lie down on the sofa with my two boys (they seem like a miracle) crawling all over me to give kisses, understanding that something is not quite right with Mamma.
Today I have been wearing my new mustard yellow sweater to tame my self-indulgence and sadness, lying on the sofa while my body is tearing apart, to get rid of whatever is left. Will I manage to do this to myself again and again? Or should I give up now, be happy for what I already have? I am thinking of the Women that goes through this over and over again without a baby to hold in their arms in the end, what physical and psychological pain to endure.
A camera showing lips inside a shell
Watching these flowery films that turns into body studies, makes me think how well they describe the female body. It's beauty but also its pain.
Pipilotti experiments a lot with the use of the human body;
"She use small surveillance cameras to roam over the surface of the skin and sends surgical cameras on journeys through the intestines. Extreme close-up shots reveal the ambiguity of wrinkles and folds of flesh. Music reflects the melody of heartbeats and the sounds of fluids moving within our bodies."
Ever is over all
After feeling sorry for myself at first I decided the only thing I can do is to write about it, focus on my guys and a future with Art as a main ingredient. My life is really good after all and the pain will eventually disappear, although when I see a pregnant woman I look at her with a slight tinge of envy.
A devil inside of me wishes that I could run around laughing right now, while I happily smash car windows down a whole block, just like Pipilotti does in the film "Ever is over all".
But, since my world is a bit more controlled I am better off getting myself a calm glass of wine, take a deep breath, look at my guys and give some thanks.