Fur, red, brown. Fabric cover, black, red. Evening handbag, blue, white, black, dark blue. Woollen blanket, black, pink. Carpet, grey. Tablecloth, white, yellow. Pullover, grey. Hair, black. Skin, brown, red.
Reddish brown, violet black, silvery grey, blue-grey, caramel brown, Hessian brown, casualties of white, cream-white, pinkish tones, closed light-green eyes.
Polyester, silk mix, cotton, wool, nylon, synthetic fibres, fur, leather, wallpaper, paper, Hessian, linoleum floor, retracted claws.
Scratches on the carpet. Loose threads in the fabric cover, knotted, cut off, frayed. Adjusted seam, hitched-up nylon tights, trouser leg with a broken thread, invisible white starched shirt, skirt with silk inner lining. Cushioned upholstery, foam, wire, varnished wooden legs with signs of gnawing, clawed open lining, armchair seam coming apart, foam particles, crumbling dustily, flakes of dust.
Whispering, unrecognisable words, terms of endearment, purring, deep tones, interruptions, irritations, scraping stroking fur, knees cracking, sounds swallowed up by the carpet.
Fur on the fabric covers, the handbag’s leather seams pushed across the cotton fibres, the camera shutter clicks, the flash fizzes, more quiet purring, fur on the cotton contours.
Putting shoes on, picking up handbag after putting on coat, lighting cigarette, picking cat hairs off suit, patting hair, turning off ceiling light, closing door, looking back, locking, putting away key. Noises in the hallway, heels on stone steps, distant laughter, bright cat eyes in the dark flat, scratching the foam filling, scraping, chewing, claws stuck fast, spat out thread remains. Birgit Szepanski
Cat woman/ projection
To relate, to truly relate to each other! And to stroke an animal and have the animal in mind, or not to have it in mind. To gaze at the pattern on the armchair and not to gaze at it and actually look somewhere else or to make something else of it, of this life. And to remember myself differently, is that what I would like? The ring finger, the children who have left home, to have really loved then and to have been left or hurt but then not really hurt! And the photographer who took this picture is my husband. And he looks at me through the camera, at how it’s me, stroking the animal and staring into the distance where the armchair curves, lost in thought, sentimental, and I truly forget myself in the instant when he takes my photo, where he finally sees me as a cat woman and later projects the slide onto the living room wall. And what it says about us that he presses the shutter and I later comment on it – on this microphysics of love or photo optics. Pictures that trigger something. To relate, to truly relate to each other! Rainer Totzke