ART ESSAY, Ana Teixeira, STILL

Honey, I get so happy when I hear from you... Everything is so boring in here. Work is slow. We are not accepting Bradesco, Sul America and Porto Seguro covenants anymore. We are told to charge the patient and he should get the covenant’s refund. This is making a backlog of negotiations and a lag in surgeries booking. Damn! At least I found something to talk about; otherwise I’d keep talking about love and missing you. Yeah, but there is no way...Missing you is too hard! Peeking on every little part of me, on all my creases and folds, on the most hidden places of my min and memory, I can’t reach any other conclusion other than that I exceedingly love you.

I miss anything made of wind.

I want you today like this, eating breakfast, early in the morning, even if you make balls out of a breadcrumb, or if you linger on the newspaper. I want you today watching that silly TV show, or playing solitary on the computer, just so I can hug you from behind – my mouth on your left ear, my arms around your neck. Saying: I Love you. Hearing the same back. Sharing everyday life, getting the clothes off the clothesline, changing sheets. Cooking together, together changing lamps, electric resistances, tires. Arguing for nothing, complaining about absence, demanding for presence.

The things my friends hate, I want them.

Not leaving the house for two days, even if it’s summer, and even because it is.

Suddenly going out, both of us, to go to the drugstore and getting home only on the next day just because we felt like going for some French food at Mantiqueira Mountains.

Polishing my nails while you fix the tap on a Sunday morning.

Cutting your nails and hair. Never letting you do the same for me.

Making plans, giving them up.

Choosing nothing over plenty.

Being together.
Holding your arm while we climb the stairs. Supporting you.

Holding hands while crossing the street. Support myself onto you.

Laughing at your jokes. Not laughing at them.

Smiling at your tenderness.

Being tender to touch you.

Being together. On the street, in the car, at the movie theater, at the hospital, in the spaces and non-spaces that life brings us.

I want you today, now and tomorrow.

In the grumpiness (of us both), in the impotence, in the short-sight, in the silence.

I just don’t want you in this painful absence, in the missing, in the lack.

But that is how I have you. That is how you are in me.

Still.

I miss anything made of wind.

Thirty T-shirts, seventeen pants, seventeen shirts, twenty-seven pair of socks, two pajamas, six closed sweatshirts, one opened sweatshirt, five shorts, seven short pants, three blazers, five jackets, one vest, three sweaters, one doctor apron, four belts, four gloves, three scarves, eight handkerchiefs, nine underwear, two berets, one cap, four pairs of leather shoes, one pair of plastic shoes – which you loved – one pair of sandals, one pair of flip flops, one leather boot, one pair of snickers, one bag.

I miss anything made of wind.

Tuesday, December 23rd, 10:48pm. Good night and good trip. A love kiss. Tuesday, November 25 th , 7:25pm. A beer, a pizza or what? Waiting kiss. Friday, October 31st, 12:14pm. Pity. I‘ll wait for you. I love you so much. Sunday, October 19th, 11:10am. Driver’s ready. Cinematographic kiss. Friday, October 17th, 12:22pm. My will to help is larger than my capacity. I am sorry for my rudeness. It is pure insecurity. Love you. A kiss. Monday, October 13th, 7:45pm. Look at the moon I prepared for you. I love you. Friday, October 10th, 5:22pm. I think the kiss is great. No movies, thanks. A kiss. Tuesday, September 23rd, 8:28pm. Soup? Kiss. Tuesday, September 16th, 7:43pm. No, you don’t deserve it. It’s a shame! I‘ll wait for you. Kiss.

I miss anything made of wind.

Sandimun Neoral 100 mg, take 125mg twice a day. Azatioprimia 50 mg, take two capsules a day. Predinozona 5mg, take 10mg a day. Munolan, place 1 pill under the tongue and slowly disperse it in the mouth, avoiding swallowing it immediately. Cloridrato de Verapamil 120 mg, 1 pill twice a day. Mionevrix, 1 pill 4 times a day. Digeplux, 1 capsul after main meals. Colchicina 5 mg, 1 pill from one to three times a day.

I miss anything made of wind.

Tuesday, December 23rd, twenty-two fifty-four. Good night my love. See you Friday! Kisses. Tuesday, November 25th, twelve twenty-five. Lunch kiss. Love you. Friday, October 31st, twelve fourteen. The world stopped and I’m in it. What a traffic! Exhausted kisses. Friday, October 17th, eleven fifty. I know I’m not uncomplaining sometimes and annoying, but your importance in my life is greater than my pickiness. Love kiss. Thursday, October 16 th , twelve forty-three. I’l have lunch out, ok? Kiss, my love. Monday, October 13th, nineteen forty-one. Don’t you feel bad for me? I don’t deserve all this traffic! Tuesday, September 16th, fourteen thirty. How’s your day? Kiss. Tuesday, September 2nd, nineteen forty-one. How was your day, honey? I’m coming home.

I miss anything made of wind.

Six colorful plates, six glasses. Pans, two or three maximum. A frying pan with a top. A big platter and a small one. They must be rectangular. A jar for granola and another one for sugar. One for farofa and another one for coffee. A few plastic bags to gather the leftovers that are always in the fridge. Six forks, six knives, six big spoons, six medium ones and six small ones. A coffee filter. A box for the spices. For the salt. A clay pot to keep the garlic and a basket fo the onions, potatoes and bananas. A ladle for the beans. A really big spoon for the rice. Two made out of wood. One to stir the rare sweets. The other, for the stew. There’s also the fridge penguin. Schnapps glasses to drink coffee. Half a dozen of cups for the friends that prefer them. All the mugs are valuable. Pots for the Sunday ice cream. Small plates to eat pudding: six. A pan to boil the coffee water in which we are not boiling eggs. A sandwich maker. The old wall clock, the blue thermos flask, the pot for your medicine. The can for my cookies. The fridge magnets. The books. The clothes. The rest. The stored. You, me, and all of those who live in us.

I miss anything made of wind.

Your body was as mine as it was yours. Your smell, your body hair, they were mine, those which I would impatiently clear away from the bathroom floor and the kitchen towel. Your hair was mine, your specks, your pimples, your nails. Your nose, your mouth, your teeth were mine. Your big and vigorous tongue. Your hairy eyebrows. Your ears. Also that little mole on your right arm, the round chin, the crease over your lips. They were mine. Mine.

I miss anything made of wind.

I don’t want this clammy day, neither a wind to freshen it up. I don’t want this headache, neither its relief. I don’t want this empty chair by my side. I don’t want this quiet house. Neither do I want other people’s noise. I don’t want hunger, or satisfaction. I don’t want life running outside, neither the death that I carry inside. I don’t want company, neither being so lonely. I don’t want to talk, or to smile. I don’t want to walk, run, swim. I don’t want to cry out for you anymore. I don’t. I don’t want life without you. But this is the only thing I have right now.

I miss anything made of wind.

︎

AINDA (STILL)
2012
14’
Ana Teixeira and Kika Nicolela

STILL is a film that came from a performance by the artist Ana Teixeira, held in 2010, in São Paulo, Brazil. The text that guides the performance was written by the artist herself. The partnership with Kika Nicolela led to a reconstruction of the performance in the studio, with actress Fernanda Martinez.

STILL deals with absence and the strategies we use to support it.

Watch the film here.


Translation into English: Clarissa Pelegrini
Image: Still from the film, Ana Teixeira and Kika Nicolela