Work 2016, No.4 »Desire Path, Studies for Painting I«
(01) zersplittert / splinters
(02) gegen die Frontscheibe / against the windscreen
(03) gepressten Leib / pressed body
(04) blanke Angesicht / blank face
(05) dem Wahnsinn anheim fallen / go mad
(06) den Menschen auf Erden / Man on Earth
(07) jede Hoffnung ausschlagen / refuse all hope
(08) die Fingerspitzen ausgestreckt / with outstretched fingertips
(09) mit halb geöffneten Augen / with eyes half opened
The Sandman is a figure within a fairytale told by Hans Christian Andersen. The Sandman is said to sprinkle sand or dust on or into the eyes of the child at night to bring on dreams and sleep.
„There is nobody in the world who knows so many stories as Ole-Luk-Oie, or who can relate them so nicely.
In the evening, while the children are seated at the table or in their little chairs, he comes up the stairs very softly, for he walks in his socks, then he opens the doors without the slightest noise, and throws a small quantity of very fine dust into their eyes, just enough to prevent them from keeping them open, and so they do not see him.
Then he creeps behind them, and blows softly upon their necks, till their heads begin to droop. Ole-Luk-Oie does not wish to hurt them, for he is very fond of children, and only wants them to be quiet so that he may relate them pretty stories, and they are never quiet until they are in bed and asleep.
As soon as they are asleep, Ole-Luk-Oie seats himself upon the bed. He is nicely dressed; his coat is made of silken fabric; it is impossible to say of what color, for it changes from green to red, and from red to blue as he turns from side to side.
Under each arm he carries an umbrella; one of them, with pictures on the inside, he spreads over the good children, and then they dream the most beautiful stories the whole night.
The other umbrella has no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty children so that they sleep heavily, and wake in the morning without having dreams at all.“
Hans Christian Andersen, Ole Lukøje, 1841
I met my father on my way to the bathroom early in the morning. He looked like I had never seen him before. He looked as if he had lost control. He was staring at my feet but in a way as if they were something different, not feet, maybe two moving but separately existing armadillos.
My father never lost control. It was on a Sunday morning, approximately one year before he died.
We stood in front of each other and he started to speak to me in a way like that he never had spoken to me before, as if I were someone else.