talking to the tree outside my window while I sleep. Kai Lossgott. 2008. Artist's Book. Laser engraving on plant leaves and pergamano paper, spruce and glass light table.

exhibited as part of Print '08: Myth, memory and the archive, at the Bell-Roberts Gallery.
Ground Floor of Fairweather House, 176 Sir Lowry Road, Woodstock, Cape Town
opening Wednesday, August 13, 5:00 PM – 8:00 PM
on weekdays 9:30 - 5 pm, until 22 September 2008

We develop in symmetry, with a form of skin, branches and capillaries containing blood or sap. Our bodily processes are aligned to the coming and going of the sun over the days and seasons. Plant leaves scar, heal and remember, like human skin. The act of engraving in leaves makes reference to cellular memory and engrams, a biological change in neural tissue that represents a memory. I suspect that on a cellular level our bodies recall the evolutionary stage when we were plants, and that this influences our perception of the world in unconscious ways, perhaps even in the forking paths of our language formations.

"talking to the tree outside my window while I sleep" is a luminous transparent book of plant leaf engravings evolved from haptic and somatic sensibilities.  It is a book of poems addressed to a tree, seeking a life-centred position in a human-centred world through a personal relationship with our living systems.  We ourselves are one of these living systems, estranged from ourselves.  This book is for all the past and future lives we seek, a reserve of bodies in the search for survival.

 

 

 


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The imagery in the book references Da Vinci's sketch of the Vitruvian Man (ca 1485).  This drawing was based on the correlations of ideal human proportions with geometry described by the ancient Roman architect Vitruvius, forming the basis of classical architecture and the built environment.  The drawing was seen by Da Vinci as a symbol of the essential symmetry of the human body, and by extension, of the universe as a whole. 

"talking to the tree outside my window while I sleep" subverts this.  It cuts out the human form and leaves open spaces for interpretation.  In this way, it is both a dystopian and utopian text, allowing both the cynic and the dreamer into its pages.  It offers a multiplicity of bodies for choice, layered bodies with spiritual and psycho-social dimensions which, although some are reminiscent of medical diagrams, suggest the necessity for a more complex approach than pure science can deliver.

Existence can no longer be seen as separate from the consequences and responsibilities of being human.  Already, this idea has marked a fundamental historical shift in consciousness.  Certainly it does not assert that human beings can become trees.  However, it is through the conscious exercise to imagine the philosophical position of a tree that its value lies; in the realm of the dream, for it is this ability that gives our species all its power. 

This book is an archive from an uncertain time.  This is because it chronicles moments of stepping into ourselves.  It is not intended for the past or future.  These empty shapes are more than fantasy bodies in which we will survive after the end; the post-historical trans-human bio-tech apocalypse or re-genesis which is our millenial end-time or creation myth.  These are bodies in which we can survive today, a protected body, a vulnerable body, a whole body, a rooted body, an expressive body, a growing body, a sensitive body, shapes to contain ourselves.  Layer upon layer they seek the density of a body that will hold us, allow us to survive just this moment, the only moment in which we can change our perspective and seek a better world.  They are pragmatic.  In a world of complexity, the search for these bodies is ultimately one for simplicity.  "and when you know / the measure of effort / let this be everything".

 

"His sensitive, layered imagery of shadow and light, line and etched page, word and figure evoke a preverbal dream sense in me of the branches, roots and tendrils in my own mysterious body. A sense of my form turning to mulch and becoming tree, the rise and fall of life in its various guises out of the soil. The poems and images, laser engraved on leaves, are evocative not only in themselves, but also because they are presented in this transient medium that we try but cannot hold onto. They need light behind them in order to be witnessed, yet at the same time that harsh light will cause them ultimately to disintegrate into darkness - the words and figures created out of lines of nothingness blurring, crumbling and merging with voidness. It is in this sense difficult to speak about Kai Lossgott's artist book 'talking to the tree outside my window while I sleep'. It is a reminder that we hold our human shape for such a brief time on the earth."

Dawn Garisch, South African writer and medical doctor
Author of the novel "Once, Two Islands", published in South Africa by Kwela and in the UK by Myrmidon, nominated for the Booker Prize 2008