Don’t obsess. She told me. It meant, not to, over her. I applied it on everything. Since, of late, after Prannoy Roy started calling himself Dr. Prannoy Roy, I decided to call myself God! God blesses, “Natesh let there be some spark”?
This thing of microbes being responsible for dinosaurs’ disappearance, a new theory by scientists has “microbed” into me. I love scale. From megalomania? Earlier there was this amazing poet who’s a visionary with his drawings, Vaitheeswaran, told me, they died from diarrhea. So built a text around it, “dinosaur sambar”.
If you keep it tight it becomes spiritual. Or if it is the unseen, the felt, that you seek, it becomes tight. Tight is the word. Cumbersome too it becomes from material-needs since all else you had rejected in the process to make it bipolar and tight. “You” alone becomes enough. You, you and you without a reference point. At the moment of making, I mean, not while it is being built, technically called, the process. A reason why I don’t use the word creation is that the same can be said of a potter making water-pots. Has s/he got no anger, love etc.?
(Artist – Natesh M.)
The hardness of the paper, the smoothness of the tip of your pen, the fine flow of good ink and your fingertips becoming the conduit of your instinct. This happens to me to bring myself totally into this moment, this very moment! Instinct reshuffles the jumble that I am, to present on paper in a state of sensual cleanliness, in a neutral, non-committal state. If I am not bluffing you will feel space in spaces left alone by my roving line.
Kamaitachi (Sickle Weasel): A trio of invisible weasels out of Tokohu folklore hide in wind flurries. The first weasel would attack a passer-by, the second cut the flesh of the victim and the third seal the skin with medication before bleeding occurs, so that the injury lay within, mysteriously agitating and eating up the insides of the victim.
This story could be related to an individual in society. A society attacks an individual with its norms. The wish to live outside society’s norms wound the individual. Fearing society’s reaction to the wish, the individual clears up any outward signs or scars that might betray what eats it inside.
In my view, Butoh aims at letting the wound bleed.