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Fragments of the Artist’s Diary, Berlin 11.2019–1.2020
Virginia de Medeiros
(1) Blue
“Indigo blue makes you vibrate, it is the color of your aura”, said the Kabbalist Dreyfus. He continued in a playful tone adding, “put blue in everything that is possible—blue light, blue clothes, blue hair, blue dog” and asked, “do you consider yourself to be a spiritual person?”
It was hot in the middle of the jungle, the sun stung through the incongruous blackness of my dress. The woman in front of me was blowing incense into my face, frantically saying: I can see you! I can see you!
There was blue inside my eyes, the woman remembered that blue. It was in that instant that I understood that what I considered to be my body, wasn’t my body anymore: I was that blue.
While the bonfire in front of me scintillated, a man danced energetically to the flames of the fire; his arms were thin, his legs were long, he jumped and scattered with the wind. It was in that moment that I understood that what I considered to be a man, wasn’t a man anymore. He was a flame.
I have decided that the walls of my residency space are to be painted in indigo blue as was done for my previous work, “The Bones of the World”. This area was defined by the therapist and artist Amanda Melo through a process of dowsing.
(2) Altar
I began the creative process for the “Constelação Sistêmica” [Sistemic Constellation] residency on the Day of Cosmas and Damian, twin brothers and Arab physicians, who demonstrated enormous compassion for the sick, both humans and animals, by treating them without asking for payment. They became known as enemies of money, which is why they were soon sentenced to death by the Emperor Diocleciano.
African slaves venerated the image of Cosmas and Damian as if they were correspondents of the Orixás twins “Ibejis”. On this day, Candomblé practitioners celebrate the joy and innocence of children. I carry with me the image of Cosmas and Damian, as well as that of my Mother “Iemanjá” and Sir Zé Pilitra, to homage them on my Altar. The Constellation revealed to me that my spiritual strength is intrinsically linked to three words: Africa, territory and cure.
(3) Hreinn Friðfinnsson: To Catch a Fish with a Song: 1964–Today
I found three stones in the apartment where I am living in Berlin. They are small and delicate, with lines that resemble that of hand palms. I feel like they want to tell me something.
I placed them in the altar.
I visited Hreinn Friðfinnsson’s exhibition at the KW Institute for Contemporary Art, amongst so many works, this one caught my attention.
The stones are speaking to me.
How does one defy the unequivocal onthology that allows for only one meaning to the perception of the world?
(4) Ilê Obá Silekê
On the Black Awareness Day, I went to an event at the Ilê Obá Silekê, the only temple in Germany for the practice of Candomblé. The “Mãe Beata de Iemanjá” [priestess Beata of Iemanjá] placed the first stone for the creation and consecration of the “Ilê”—house of strength of Xangô. On that night, the “Iabassê”, who is responsible for the preparation of sacred foods in the Candomblé, showed me the “assentamentos” (specific location devoted to each orisha): stones from the “Orixás.” I could have never imagined that just a week later I would be her assistant in the kitchen. I was welcomed by the Babalorixá Murah as an “abíyàn,” or daughter of the house.
(5) Clothes of the Saints
I read that Exu is the boy who hit the bird yesterday with the stone he threw.
Virginia de Yemajá and Virginia de Exu.
It was a gently agitated river of black and lukewarm waters. It was a fat and tired river, a tall river! The darkness embraced the landscape like a transparent veil that dyes everything gray, except for the bottom of the river where an illuminated neon green grass slithered through my feet. In the open sea, where my sight could still reach, a black man danced on the waves’ curves. He held a mirror in his left hand, creating a scintillating silver reflection on his naked body that lit up the divine within me. His erotic dance was beautiful. He masturbated while floating in the sea. I began to move towards the beach, walking through black and tender mud as my feet peacefully sank.
(6) Machado (sending a message to Inga to intertwine the work of the feminists and Xangô, an Orixá from Candomblé)
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