Lilli Messina

Drawings
Text
Design

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

 

  * * * * * *   


 

 

 


*Lyrics 2016/17 
Kunst Haus Wien / Museum Hundertwasser  

 

And Or Not

 

life 
attachment to the swarm
unity 
density
swarm leads
swarm secures
swarm selects

(...)

 

 

 

 

 * * * * * *

          

 

 

          *Lyrics, 2015, Projection,           
I.O. VIDI / HERE I SEE, Museum of Contemporary Art, Zagreb (Cro)

 

 

Time is Round 

And I am standing here

and I am me

am you

am my kind

am your kind

am father

am mother

am children as grandchildren

and time. It is round.

 

 

And I am standing here

and I am standing straight

standing stiff

standing upright

and am still the crooked ape within me

and time. It is round.

 

(...)

 

 

 

  * * * * * *  

   

 

 

                 *Tale / Performance  2015, 
                    Embodied Resilience, Italian Embassy Berlin (D)

        

 

 

White Between Blackness

  

And in the beginning lies the end. 
As the day to the night.
As the White to the Black.
As the head to the tail.
But this head is a head without a tail.
The head eats his tail, swallows it and thinks, the tail will follow him, burst through his insides, and once again spring out. 
But it isn t so...
The tail remains eaten and the head remains tailless.
And the crying, tailless head thinks:
Once I was a head with a tail, 
once I was turning around and my true fellow followed. But now...
What s the use of a head without a tail?
Who bathes in my light?
To whom do I offer my shadow? 
And the head eats his tail and togetherness leads to loneliness. 
And the head eats his tail and loneliness leads to emptiness. 
And the head eats his tail and emptiness leads to blackness. 
And where there is blackness, there is no being. 
And where there is no being, there is no life. 
And where there is no life, remains only death.
And the lonely tailless head rots and dies.
And as the death is the nothingness, the dead head in the nothingness thinks:
A head without a tail is nothing. 
And nothing is empty as death. 
And the death is as black as the night. 
The night is as still as the rest. 
And the dead head rests and hardens to stone. 

Closer to the Black than to the White.  
Closer to nothing than to being. 

And the dead stony head thinks:
Once I was a head with a skull. 
Once I was a skull made of bones. 
Once I was bones, made of pure white stardust. 
And once I was shiny and once I was bright. 

(...)

  

 

 

            

* * * * * *

 

  

 

*Lyrics, bugs and bones, 
Flaneur Magazine, 2015, Berlin (D)

 

bugs and bones 

get your guide partisants

welcome to the colony

extension

intention

welcome to the liberators

three-part bodies, elitists

bugs and bees

ants and friends

businessmen and activists

hoppers, skippers

queen, males and workers

fascists in lockstep

damned set of vipers

left, right, left

ratification

right, left, right

excommunication 

(...)

 

 

 

* * * * * *

 

 

    

*Fisch frisst Fisch,
artq13, Rome (ITA), 2014

 

 
Fisch frisst Fisch

Ich drücke grün. 
Ich trete ein. 
Ich ziehe, ich zupfe, ich öffne, ich schließe, ich halte, ich lege, ich hebe, ich greife, ich drücke, ich drehe – ich entsorge.
Ich drehe, ich halte, ich nehme, ich wringe, ich wasche – ich entsorge.
Ich wringe, ich wische, ich trockne, ich tupfe – ich entsorge. 
Ich wringe, ich stülpe, ich ziehe – ich entsorge. 
Ich öffne, ich schließe, ich schiebe, ich presse – ich entsorge.
Ich wasche – ich entsorge.
Ich wische – ich entsorge.
Ich trockne – ich entsorge.
Ich wechsle, ich streiche, ich schließe – ich entsorge. 
Ich schwitze – ich entsorge. 
Ich entsorge. 
Ich entsorge. 
Ich entsorge.
Im Heim entsorge ich. Daheim horte ich. Horte Unrat, horte Keime. Im Heim kontrolliere ich, daheim kontrolliert es mich.
(...)
 
 

 

 

 

   

              * * * * * *

 

  

 

 

 

*Tale (Text-Performance), The Relationship Process, 
B.E.A.R - Bucharest Intern. Filmfestival, 2015, Bukarest (RO)

 

 

One Whispers

 

– Well, well, old life, one whispers you were extinct? –   
– One whispers? – 
– One whispers! Eaten up, digested and excreted! –   
– One whispers? – 
– One whispers! Oh my, old life, you had it tough! And now you´re dead. Extinct and nothing will ever come after you. –   
- One whispers? –   
– One whispers! But look, old life, even the encounter fares no better.–   
- The encounter? –   
– The encounter! The poor little soul had been locked up. Isolated. In a rough dark cage. They gaped at him as to an old odd ape. -   
– One whispers? – 
– One whispers! And all at his own the poor little soul died. –   
– Dead? The encounter... –   
– Stonedead. And nothing comes ever after him.– 
- Nothing? –   
– Nothing! Nothing and nothing at all! The poor soul was said to be wild in his head, unable to raise its own brood. –   
– One whispers? – 
– One whispers! As dead as you are now! –   
– Oh my! Once I was alive. Once I was thinking I were rosy. I felt a slight twinge in my neck and the old skin shivering, but I never meant anything bad by it. I gritted my teeth and marched on.
(...)

 

 

 

 

* * * * * *