While still working on my dissertation and going through all sorts of research I had once stirred, I find a poem by my favourite Marcel Broodthaers. I had never really heard of this artist, until I accidentally picked up a catalogue of his work. The book itself was untidy, loads of text running in different languages, bold, black, red but as I was going through the pages, I stopped my self from the limitations of arrogance and kept looking at the pictures. Even though his work could almost be seen as 'new media' especially for its time, there was one or two things I recall liking. Then, I went on to search for some new visuals and that's were I discovered this short but beautiful poem.
The Mussel and the mould. How the mould traps the mussel or more likely how the mussel stays entrapped by the mould of its own nature. It is protected and safe from the commodity of society and the world, they all exist and breathe silently in their shell away from everything and anything that could harm them.
It makes me think, how can this evolution occur to a human being? How can we reject everything and close our selves in a mould, a cast of protection. With a bit of influence from feminist artist Barbara Kruger, who I've been reading a lot these days, the mussel gives me the impression of a woman, so fragile and tender that shuts herself into her shell. So nobody would harm her flesh. It is an automatic mechanism so it wouldn't be eaten by the bigger fish, it's the people who try to influence and steal the beauty from her.
Yet, she exists with others alike, all shut inside their mould, living happily ever after until she's been boiled and cooked, until her shell widely opens and reveals the treasure.
Oh, isn't she perfect.
