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Jarema Sikorski

self-portrait

I’m not a writer
Word has always been for me something secondary
something in a sense dead
It has always intrigued me what lies beyond the word
What remains once the word is sounded
once it fades and melts
into nothingness

Since the word is dead it is never able to capture what is alive
Therefore word which is thought can never know life
The only solution lies in going beyond the word
But the word is not able to go beyond itself
or to end itself
And because our existence is founded on word its end is not
in our interest
In fact the end of word is the end of us
the end of you and the end of me

What is left when the word ends is
simply life
life that does not know any division
life that is one complete and whole
Life
expressed among others
by
word

Whispered
book photo

Somewhere
at the edge of reality and dreams
a man meets a woman
Both are young innocent
in a way untouched by the world
What unfolds is a love story not so much
written
but painted with words
Twenty individual pictures
moments from the lives of the lovers
Each leads to the last line that is always spoken by the woman
in a whisper
the scene a pretext almost for that line to exist
The story has a depth of feeling and tenderness typical of love
and is infused with an illusive mood
It all seems distant dreamlike and improbable
And may raise the question
Has it ever happened
In a sense the answer is in the text
But perhaps that only takes us
further into the
unknown

 

 

46 pages, 8 images | 120x214mm
Softback | ISBN 978-83-938076-2-8
£9


fragment
illustration

I walked softly over the uncharted ground
drops stranded after the recent rain were falling from the trees
through branches bright light shone
I lifted my head up to the sky
and breathed in with full barrel chest the scent of the morning
with its life-giving taste

somewhere far ahead of me
at the very end of the road
I saw a figure’s faded shape
I walked at ease
but slowed down as I drew near
stopped and took my hands out from my pockets

you said nothing you faintly smiled

the wind danced about your blue dress
stray drops dropped from the trees one straight onto your cheek
I pulled out a white handkerchief and offered it to you
shyly you reached for it
then gave it back
and whispered
—tell me about yourself I want to ask

I told you about my travels
and loneliness on the steppes
you listened charmed like a little girl by an evening tale
time fled
hours hid themselves
how long the sweet moment lasted I do not know
you whispered

—I longed to meet you so

CD
cd photo

 

 

Music
weaves with the text
deepens the mood
and
transfers the whole
further into the world of fantasy
and dreams

As if the music is filled with its own poeticness
and its own magic
Sometimes it makes up only the mysterious background
At other times it emphasises and accentuates the fragments of imagery
Words and sounds together create the enchanted space
which draws
and charms
and hypnotizes
Within music
the text
the exquisite voice and the recitation itself
exist
in inconceivable intimacy

These elements all
found themselves
in the inexplicable act of a miraculous event
that
realised the vision
I carried
deep
within myself


Music: Paul Hardcastle
Voice: Daniel Sage
22 minutes
CD | ISBN 978-83-938076-3-5  
£9

MP3 £3.60
contact
jaremasikorski@gmail.com

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