While asleep we humans are vulnerable, without protection, almost child-like. In this state, where the absence of protective walls makes us lose our façade, our attitude, we direct our consciousness inwards.
Each night we prepare for this process, carrying out rituals that were created over the course of years, the essence of a series of experiences we have made thus far. The things we take with us on this journey, every night for half of our lives, tell a story about our most inner selves. And where do these things find their place? On the bedside table, the windowsill, the cabinet above our dreaming minds.
I, therefore, believe that these pictures of various nightstands carry a very unique kind of intimacy - in the subtlest of ways. We reveal a side of us that usually only belongs to ourselves. A side that doesn’t shine and that doesn‘t shout; but a side that is looking for shelter, security and warmth.
Ich halt meinen Arm hoch
er wird zur antenne
doch ich hab keinen empfang
ich reibe die hände
Wartend Auf wärme
Doch wenn ich rufe geht keiner ran
in meinem kopf drin
die stimmen am nächsten
die pointe die mir wohl entgang
alles fährt vorbei
ich starre von innen
vom ende bis zum Neuanfang
(Janine ScheEr-erb , 2020)
