For the past few months I have been collecting thoughts and bringing together materials that crossed my way in everyday living/surviving. My body has been going through a lot of changes and physical and mental pain. Collected debris is an attempt to give the process of healing from pain mental structure, some kind of sense.


I want to hear them talking again, so I don’t have to make up all the stories in my head on my own

so I don’t have to think for a while and just let myself go with the stream of voices
It feels like someone is putting pressure on my chest and I can’t breathe
not physically but in my head

I go now, not forever
but I need to breathe
where do I go?

somewhere safe
I don’t know yet
where is safe?

Pain and pleasure go hand in hand they say
but no one mentions that pain is really just a path to more pleasure

makes me wanna slow dance
slow slow slow
big hip circles
circling feelings
cause I always liked it slow

wish I could watch you moving
dance with you
drops of sweat crawling on your skin

you were dancing in my dreams

sweat dripping off of naked bodies
purple lights
sore feet
wild thoughts
changing tempos
racing hearts
wet hands

what if everything turns out okay?

my room smells of latex

memories of constraint
while you were away I started loving you

communication in order to learn each others needs and interest

physical safety
basic needs

I know now how I want to create
waking up early just to drink coffee

thank you for reminding me that it is okay to feel things

I want to lick your throat
I miss you so much, although I have never even met you
I miss you, although we’ve never really met

I guess I just miss the idea of being loved by someone I cannot immediately have

sorry we are closeted
I want to lick your throat

your silence speaks more than a thousand words
I like you but I don’t know what to say

platonically heartbroken

living’s supposed to kill you but it shouldn’t feel like dying

fear of disappearing
where you live, is there someone you like?

the only thing I am ever jealous about is other peoples happiness
I hate going to Aldi

the fear of being boring

You have no power over me

I have the endless power over my body
you cannot reign over my regret
your regret
is not my regret

sometimes you’re just scared of fucking everything

there is no final description of this
some things can not be explained by words
that’s why this exists
the indescribability legitimates the existence of this work
there are some words to describe this
but they will never be enough

Turning back to find the origins of our desires in a world full of doubts and fears (violence and wars) might seem naive. But finding the source of desire is not only good for instant relief but also it leads to a path of healing and to ways which help us survive the sorrows of todays world. There is more in desire than just the want to be in love with someone, fuck with someone. There are underlying desires for peace and deep relationships. Desires make us dream. They make us dream about a presence full of heat and fulfillment. They make us dream about a future that is worth living and striving for.
I want our desires to be ours and not of some capitalistic worth. My desires can not be bought. Our desires can not be sold.

Fetish is a big word, loaded with negativity, shame and otherness. The definition of fetish is:

„Any material image of a religious idea is an idol; a material object in which force is supposed to be concentrated is a Fetish; a material object, or a class of material objects, plants, or animals, which is regarded by man with superstitious respect, and between whom and man there is supposed to exist an invisible but effective force, is a Totem. [J. Fitzgerald Lee, „The Greater Exodus,“ London, 1903]“

„The specific Portuguese use of the word that brought it to English probably began among Portuguese sailors and traders who used the word as a name for charms and talismans worshipped by the inhabitants of the Guinea coast of Africa.“ 1

So, something that the white colonial man, that came to steal a place and declare it his own, could never understand, tried to find a word for. The worth of these objects, a white man could never guess. For him there is only gold (money) of worth, because the system he has created is built upon that. That these objects are worth more than a city of gold, he could never understand. That these objects loose their meaning when not at the place where they belong, would never come to his mind. He could only guess it was of big worth by how the people treated it. From there the word fetish and the meaning of it has shaped until today and is still waiting for it‘s reclaiming.

The project memories of constraint is exploring tensions between and searching for memories evoked in materialities that can be found in connection to fetish or BDSM practices. The shape of the sculpture has evolved from a wooden construction with latex spanned over it to a more abstract form where pieces of vulcanized latex are tied together with thin steel wire hanging from the ceiling and around a metal rod. The poem consists of fragments of memories collected in phone notes, notebooks etc.




strobes in my brain
there’s nothing to fear in the things I am afraid of – okay
can’t you hear them whisper one another’s touch?
time passing is not an apology

so male so male
so female so female
like an animal
aren’t we different
why not just human
I wasn’t born a woman
I was born a fucking baby
like everyone else

latex can be obtained in the natural way from the sap of rubber trees
fluid latex is like cum that gets hard and transparent

you say this is a safe space a queer space
that we are so lucky we found each other
but we are not free
we are not free from prejudice

even when I tell you a million times that I am not a woman
you will still perceive me and my body as one of a woman
because we are so afraid of someone questioning our sexuality
we are so afraid of the phrase „this is just a phase“
we push ourselves into those frames
because those are the ones we stood up for

I want to love and I want to be loved back
but they tell me my body is not the one you like
you are not sexually attracted to a body with female features
but I am not attracted to you sexually
I am in love with you and your body has nothing to do with it

god bless our preferences
they give us a fake feeling of freedom and power over ourselves
what are those preferences made from?
solely our ability to tell what we want
do we even know what we want?

tell me what you want
what you need
I want to give pleasure
I don’t feel the need for sexual pleasure
but I feel you do

let me do it for you
what lays behind this desire and pleasure
what are your dreams
it is never just sex
it never was

we get taught to empty ourselves
cum and let go
but there is so much more coming when coming
staring into the abyss
an abyss full of emotions
never spoken of
never told
just fucked away

hurt me

pay me

due to technical difficulties in my brain I couldn’t finish this task
so I strangled myself with steel wire I use for my sculptures
then I woke up
not dead
but not quite alive either

fragments of dreams
so what
is that


I woke up sweating about you
although we never really met
I miss you

Your words hurt different when I’m drunk
They resonate when I am sober
I keep them quiet with substance

sweat reminds me of all those molecules that
aren’t supposed to be in my body

I wake up every morning soaking in memories
of wild dreams
panic and anxiety mixed with weird combinationsof sexual encounters and obscure objects of desire

I need to sleep but I don’t want to wake up
like this anymore

I am afraid of sleeping but I am utterly tired
sleeping used to be a place without anxiety
now it turned to what I fear most

I want to wake up next to you
holding my body drenched with sweat
assuring me it was just a dream

I can not be sure if what I dream are just dreams
it feels so real
reality hurts
there’s no place I feel safe now