Life in Quarantine: Spring Awakenings

“Lungs” by Federico Lindner

Published 13th Apr 2020, Written by veronica

We asked the artists on ARTCONNECT to portray life in quarantine. This is the second and last part of the series, showing how our community is dealing with the current situation. ⁠

Below you can read “Spring Awakenings” by Marco Merenda, “the dolphins were never real” by Charlotte Kerr, and “Helen Miller” by Maria Papadouli, and enjoy visual art from Kaja Stech, Barbara Cousin, Cora Marin, and Marko Seifert, as well as a video submission by Hoang Quynh Nguyen. The header image is created by Federico Lindner.

Read the first part of the life in quarantine series.

Spring Awakenings

CUT. Fading dreamscapes. Dreamy faces blur out softly. But, hey, what, you did not finish your sentence. Hey. But, what, but. Hey.

You re-locate yourself in the here and now. Your room, today.  Or is it tomorrow, or yesterday. Does it even matter, time is not a fixed construct, or is it. Your room, today. It smells like sex. Or rather like the memory you have of sex. When was the last time you even had sex, do you remember. What does it feel like to be touched, do you remember. What does the smooth skin on his inner thigh smell like, do you remember.

You start becoming aware of your body. Your eyelids feel like dusty, heavy, old gray curtains. Your hands move slowly towards your chest. You roll over to your left side, you embrace yourself. Noises from the outside world. Loud Turkish music. Silence. An ambulance. Silence. A truck. Silence. Life goes on out there, somehow, somewhere, sometimes. Someone, please, can someone come and open the curtains. Please open the curtains. Mom, where are you, mom, can you hear me.

One foot slips out of the duvet. It moves, slowly, till it touches the cold wooden floor. Good morning. Or is it evening. Or afternoon. Or night. Does it even matter, time is not a fixed construct, or is it. Good morning. CUT.

Text by Marco Merenda

Life in quarantine

Self -portrait by Kaja Stech

“And Times Goes by” by Barbara Cousin

the dolphins were never real

swollen head / heart ok but abrupt waking / sends it into fight or flight for about five seconds / I read that A-blood-types are going to get sicker than the other types / I’m A positive but the study hasn’t been verified / I read that the dolphins were never real / I read that people can no longer smell / I photographed abandoned plastic gloves and downloaded Lex / Paul laughed at the word ‘lockdown’ and I agree it is funny / like a game show / we are waiting for the Polizei to drive through the streets with megaphones / DU BIST IM LOCKDOWN / it’s so much worse in German / we wait by clinging to one spot on the wall / watching the news like insects / inside the time warps of our apartments / dreaming vividly of Lego houses / because we are understimulated / Tempelhofer – a place already nostalgic and otherworldly / feels like the city beach in my hometown at sunset in the winter / a 30-year-old waiting for her mum to pick her up / and a yellowed stop sign that looks like the sun

Text by Charlotte Kerr

Life in quarantine

“What ever happened to all those women
whose households are more dangerous than
any virus?” by Cora Marin

“Silver Linings” by Marko Seifert

Helen Mirren

*Ι wake up*

-Is today’s breakfast going to be the same as yesterday’s? Could eating the exact same meal every day at a specific hour be an interesting experiment to see if it is possible to start losing the sense of time? Would that be cool?

-Why do things still matter? Sometimes I think that I should just stop caring. Now is the time.

-Why do I have days that are either white or black? Is it a disorder? Why isn’t there any grey shade?

*Noon is the worst, admittedly.*

-Does my throat feel sore because of IT? Will I let myself google symptoms and statistics, although I’ve advised everyone on earth to keep away from doing so? I will. Today is the day for self-destructive little activities.

-When are we going to start reading articles about mass suicides? Why do I suddenly see the ability to get out of here when we choose to, as something remarkably helpful? I’ve never thought of that before.

*I nap. I had a dream about Helen Mirren doing an interview and talking about playing a very old, single woman who would have a wank every night before she sleeps. Is my brain trying to predict a version of a Future Me?*

-Are u still there?

*I work out. Mum calls, she’s worried about me, sounding like I can barely move my mouth. It’s not true, I’m moving me alright, I’ve done a workout and yoga. And made progress in making my puzzle.*

-Should I watch anything? News seem particularly bad to me today. I swear, it felt manageable until two days ago. I think it will pass, I think it’s just a bad day. I’ll drink wine and give Netflix’s “Freud” a chance. Maybe he has the answers.”

Text by Maria Papadouli

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