DOWRY I // KRAITIS I

Swaying on the swing calms me. The rhythm tames the noise of my soul, while I reach higher and higher with the tips of my toes, pushing clouds with my feet, letting the wind dishevel my hair.

Sometimes I swing in order to pull away from my own center, sometimes – in order to start my mechanism anew. With every swing forward and back – a fresh breath of air, a series of them. The blood runs faster as my body’s filled with oxygen, everything looks clearer: contours, forms, textures. Then everything disappears again. So it goes until i bounce and jump and land soundly on the ground.

My grandmother knits: something white / something colorful / something white / something white again. She puts those white / those colorful things into a crisp bag. Wraps it with a string, ivory white with red, and gives it to me. She says its for my dowry. With time, she knits less and never for dowry. The word “knit” becomes ever/more precious, as when I hear it, I see what I never saw before – my grandmother, swimming in a big body of water, diving in and out, later calmly knitting away on the shore.

Old knitted shawls and the smell of dark drawer, squeaky cabinet door, field-dried bedding with its barely noticeable moisture, the silence of an early morning, my nostalgia, childhood, dowry.

Performed at Meno Parkas gallery, Kaunas, LT, duration: 2.5 hrs
Photo documentation by Airida Rekšytė
Video documentation by Juozas Ruzgas

DOWRY II // KRAITIS II

Focus on what I am not // a stone not a bird not a stone yet
Arrange the time // leave the past tense to the // past
Remember the steps of that old dance // two steps forward three // back
Open a vein // or perchance the eyes // to now
Ground yourself // within each step within each word you utter
Breathe in breathe out // don’t forget // to drink plenty of water
Learn to bark like a dog // to writhe like a snake // to sing like cobblestones do
Keep your silence until the morning will force your lids
Enfold with the tenderness of the night // with the calm of a lamb
Let the sea sleep in your ear
Bury yourself in the soil at mid-winter // as the spades break
Bite your hand and wake up in a dream

LT

Susitelkti į tai kas esu // ne akmuo ne paukštis ne akmuo dar
Sudėlioti laiką // praeities būtąjį palikti // praeičiai
Atsiminti seno šokio žingsnius // du pirmyn trys atgal
Atverti veną // o gal akis // į dabar
Įsižeminti // į kiekvieną žingsnį į sakomą žodį
Įkvėpti iškvėpti // nepamiršti // gerti daug vandens
Išmokti loti šunimi // raitytis gyvate // giedoti grindiniu
Ištylėti iki rytas vokus atplėš jėga
Apsisiausti nakties švelnumu // avinėlio ramybe
Leisti jūrai miegot ausyje
Įsikasti į dirvą viduržemy kastuvams lūžtant
Įsikąsti į ranką pabusti sapne

Materials: my moms dress from her youth; a crochet my grandma gave me 20 years ago; a dried lemon from an old garden, Cagliari, 2008; a piece of coral from the seaside, Cagliari, 2008; a mussel shell found on the seaside, Cagliari, 2009; a stone found on the seaside of Cagliari, 2009; a stone found on the seaside of Smiltyne, 2012; a stone found on the seaside, Tallinn, 2012.

The work was performed in Kaunas picture gallery on the 14th Now 2014, duration 7+ hrs. The installation that remains + video remained as a part of the exhibition in Kaunas Biennial, “THE SHROUD OF TIME“ (“Laiko drobulė”).

Photo documentation by Vaida Tamoševičiūtė

DOWRY III / KRAITIS III

Tavo akys anapusėn žiūrinčios o gal manosios iš šiąpus jas stebinčios
Tavo virpantys pirštai perregima oda aptraukti
Tavo sruogos plaukų prieštaraujančios jėgai traukos ir stūmos
Tavo veido oda suplonėjus per mirksnį per naktį
Aš ilgėsiuos tavęs kai anapusėj megsi kilimą vabzdžiams
kai judės nesukaustyti pirštai ant smėlio klavyrų
kai į avilius bitės išspietusios grįš parlydėtos griežtų serafimų

EN

(are these) Your eyes gazing beyond or are mine watching yours from within?
Your quivering fingers envelopped in transparent skin
The strands of your hair resisting the forces of time
Your face eaten thin by the night
You’ll be knitting the lace for the insects while I’ll miss you so
While your fingers will, painless again, run on keys made of stone
And the bees will return to the hives swarmed by sad seraphim

Dowry III is about the memory of my grandma from my fathers side, and me. Third Dowry was the last of them, ended with my grandmother passing. I wrote then: “It’ll be in black. It’ll be in a garden, on a crossroad, under the branches of a walnut tree.”

Performed at Kairėnai botanical garden, 12th of September 2015, five days after the death of my second grandma.
Video documentation by Andrėja Šaltytė.