A mark creates a corresponding void, and it’s the interplay between white and black that gives Kline’s work, or any work, really, its dimension, depth, shadow, pace, rhythm. The spoken and the unspoken, the gesture and the pause, each has its role to play.
I, who was accustomed to sleep in total darkness, was bothered for a long time at having to sleep in this world of mist. In the greenish or bluish mist, vaguely luminous, that is the world of the blind.
There were recurring themes: mist and fog, foghorns, forgetfulness, streams so clear their transparency was to be feared.
Amacher was really taking into account that the brain is a big part of what we hear. The air, the distance, the space around us is what makes it all possible. What connects us or what we share.This whole phenomenon is based on this space of possibility.
So then: watch the intervals between people, the things that aren’t said, the things that are tacit, the things that are implicit rather than explicit in all life. And then you begin to get connected.
"What a shame, he thinks. He'd liked the notion of making oneself visible by publicly refusing to say who one is. Odysseus had called himself Nobody to escape from the Cyclops's cave. Who put out your eye, the other giants ask the blind Cyclops from outside. Nobody, the Cyclops bellows. Who's hurting you? Nobody! Odysseus, whose false name—one that cancels him out—the Cyclops keeps shrieking, clings to the belly of a ram and in this way slips out of the man-eating monster's cave undetected." —Jenny Erpenbeck