JOSEPHINE REICHERT

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Cell Towers, 2014

  Cell 1 - Bare 
  Linocut on Japanese Paper, 1/10

  Cell 2 - Bare 
  
Linocut on Japanese Paper, 1/10 

  Cell 1 - The Voice 
  
Linocut on 'Le Soir' Newspaper, Original

  Cell 2 - Samsung 
  
Linocut on 'Le Soir' Newspaper, Original

  Lying Awake
  Linocut on Paper, 1/10

  Waving
  Woodcut on Paper, 1/10

  Hans's 
  
Woodcut on Paper, 1/10

 

 

The soprano 

The soprano forces her mouth open

To eject the sounds of sorrow

Her face grimacing in pain

As I clumsily cut into the wooden surface


My demon wrestler sitting on my chest

I carry him around willingly, I don't know how to wrestle

I try to speak about him

But end up cracking a silly joke instead


As the melody climbs higher and higher

I break the silence

With an awkward question

Nine again

Alone again


The little red Indian girl hopes her tiger will return

To protect her

Will wrestle the demon

With the help of miniature postcards


I light a cigarette 

Blowing away thoughts

I listen, numb

As if my method acting had convinced

And I cannot help but feel the beauty


The soprano reaches her peak

Silence instead of applause

Then exhale  

 

Black Fingers

As I’m counting crows

My fingers turn black

The beauty of repetition

Fills me like apple tart

She feeds me

As she refuses to eat


I duck below the art

As I hurry to make the deadline

My fear, my pain

They make a narcissist of me

And we’re all just getting fatter


I tiptoe into my cave

To not disturb the emotional peace

I crawl below the bats

I’m down on my knees