Dec 21, 2015
Ladies and Gentlemen,
The poem, whose musical
representation premieres here today, is about
Kythera.
Kythera is a Greek island and a mythological
place.
After her birth from the sea, Aphrodite
is supposed to have gone ashore there.
That is the reason why in ancient
times a cult place for Aphrodite, the goddess of love,
was established on Kythera.
The goddess was mortal, however,
and was forgotten.
Afterward the island of love existed only as a topos
which was elaborated and revitalized by paintings and literature of the eighteenth century. For example, the stately gardens and parks decorated with statues on
Kythera, or some other Arcadia or paradise, where
the pilgrims of love celebrated their chivalrous
festivities.
Nothing of these outings remained,
however, except for a few statues of
Venus, in the now bourgeois gardens, by the gardens of childhood, which
Baudelaire remembered
wistfully.
Here Venus-Aphrodite was only a decoration, made
of marble or plaster. No ocean
in sight, neither the one she was born from, nor one you
would have to cross by boat.
Love was no longer a gently swinging,
swaying festival, but was instead
something as futile as the effort of
Baudelaire’s fool to win the affections of a
stone Venus. The lover was lost and
there was no sense of community anymore
that would have sheltered him.
So the idea of the Kythera island has changed over time.
Whenever social conditions changed,
so did views on love.
The poem deals with a fantasy world and is the illustration of a pain. It
shows the birth and existence of a landscape
from that pain, if one wants to believe its
chimera and deception. But be cautious, this
dreamscape and scene of imagination has an enchanted undertow.
Kythera
A region of painclaiming to bea landscape
the bodypulled alongas if on wheelsThe trees stand still
Outstretched armsmultiplied suddenlyentwinedgrown frozen
Behind it only leftthe turningbetween the trees
which grow whilethe body
sinks (into the ground)
A landscape of longing is
portrayed, which changes into a
landscape of death. It is a landscape of mirroring and signs
through which a body moves and
into which it sinks.
Just as little is certain about the landscape; so too the body knows little about its
physical existence. The body first finds
itself in a trance and its movements are
automatic and mechanical.
The outstretched arms prove to be a deception and an
illusion. And there’s more: the multiply reflected embraces
are suddenly affected by stiffness of death. An illusory place of
love becomes a place of death.
The changing appearance of the hedge of embraces that is first alive, then dead, is the
pivotal point of the poem.
The poem owes its genesis to a walk on a late autumn
day about ten years ago. I saw then an unusual hedge that
appeared to be strangely bare and almost as if it had been dreamed up.
It was a hedge that was formed along a fence from
an ancient wistaria and whose branches and
offshoots were tangled up and seemed, with its lack of
flowers and leaves, to be frozen and stationary . At
the same time, they seemed to be under a spell because the branches did not grow upwards as usual
on a wall but were themselves a wall which
appeared to be like a skeleton.
I remember standing in front of this hedge for a long time, and the following night I dreamt about a body
walking through a landscape. But this
walking was not really a walking but rather a
rolling along on invisible wheels which
I still knew were there.
Both images, the enchanted wisteria-
wall and the peculiar movement
of the body captivated me. I wanted to find a
space for them, in which they would attain a meaning and a function.
The emotions they triggered required a
fairy-tale setting and that was
Kythera.
But as soon as I got there it changed, was no longer an island of love but
an indifferent region in which
longing was pursued
ad absurdum.
No utopian place ruled by love and freedom nor an
archeological site of whichever kind, be it
one of excavated sculptures or findings from the realms of art and literature, would have fit the initiation
images.
If one excavated the Kythera I
imagined one might find the skeleton of
a body, possibly even several.
Perhaps the hedge of longing is
nothing more than a bewitched and
transformed burial mound.
The poem, which is set in a realm
between appearance and reality, leaves all
this open.
Since the origins of my Kythera lie in pain, the
accompanying emotion for a love, its
ambivalences and intangibility determine
the hallucinatory character of my
island, a place that becomes increasingly real, the longer one
stays.
Emotions increase or decrease or
change, are transformed into their opposites.
They have a dramatic aspect. This is why my
poem is structured like a drama, each of the five stanzas
the equivalent of an act.
In each of the individual stanzas the relationship
between reality and non-reality,
appearance and being, is newly
defined.
They are clearly separated in the exposition of the
first stanza: pain on the one hand, on
the other the illusion of a landscape.
In the second stanza unreality is illustrated with the help of the trees
and thus becomes a space one could
walk in. Pain seems to be forgotten, has
made way for longing.
But as soon as the third stanza
consolidates the contours of the landscape the sudden change
occurs: happiness, which is here portrayed as nothing but a
shadow of love, transforms itself.
The outstretched arms are all that is
visible of happiness. Even before the arms
freeze, they are transformed into an
insurmountable barrier. They entangle themselves with other
arms and block out any further approach.
At this point even the feelings which were so huge that they could create their
own space, become in retrospect, uncertain
and illusionary, whereas the
landscape they invented becomes
ever more deadly and thus ever more real.
In the 4th stanza, the dizziness and the
turning of the body: The turning motion of the imaginary wheels at the beginning of
the poem, now seizes the whole body. It falls to the ground, which finally gives
way in the last stanza.
The deeper the body sinks into the ground, the higher the trees grow. The growing of the trees is an optical illusion, the swansong
on the series of illusions, deceptions and futility, and their complex connections with each other in the
poem.
The poem does not offer the reader or
listener any support. It is like a
dream in which someone gets lost, the dreamer being
the reader or listener himself.
It is up to the reader whether he or she
takes the body in the dream for his or her own, identifying with
it, or whether it is seen as the body of a stranger. The poem
allows both possibilities as it allows several
interpretations.
It can be read as the story of an illusion of love, maybe even a
betrayal of love, or as a parable of the impossibility and
futility of love, or as one about being
exposed and lonely in one's hour of
death.
Alternatively, one could understand
the poem simply as a reflection on and with images about
the nature of emotions
concerning love and death.