Someone recently told me I need to think less about explaining my work. I’ve been reflecting on what that might mean. It’s definitely not about being superficial. And it’s certainly not about avoiding stoplight to every random thoughts that pops into my head. Maybe it’s about lightness, about refreshing the mind, loosening the boundaries I set for myself. A little more freedom, a little less overthinking. Basically I am very interested to allow myself to do this art which I would like to do.

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Perhaps to be braver without pressure. At the end I can explain my work for myself (can <i>) at the end whatever it is, it came from me. Being playful is so nice! Is it a training to work without explanation of what you are doing in your head? What kind of rules should I make for myself? Braving, avoiding desire to make everything in some kind of order. Maybe I should stop to clean a flat. Routine is a mirror of your personality, right? Still joking. Perhaps it would be helpful having a ritual to playtimes before starting to work at the atelier, seems it’s the same way I read before to start. Playful in a sense to set a game without a goal. Is it the same, to play computer games or even card games and be playful with your work? Is it my goal? Or being playful with your work comes after as a result. Let’s have a definition of word ‘playful’ from the Internet right here:

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Playful 

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- fond of games and amusement, light-hearted 

an example: A playful tomboy who loves to dress up 

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- intended for one’s own or others’ amusement rather than seriosity 

- giving or expressing pleasure and amusement

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It’s interesting that I come to be playful from the method of working “without explanation”. Perhaps because to be playful it’s somehow relates to do something without a purpose, to do something for just fun. So the question is does it mean to avoid thinking about meaning and explanation to do my work for fun?

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I woke up today, the day was smashing me with a grey sky direct to my gaze. Leaving the tram I was thinking to make my route shorter by catching a bus but it didn’t come so I had to come back to the same tram station to take a next tram. I came to the atelier, everyone went to the nice small restaurant in front of the water, I was taking this time for myself. I was thinking that playful action can relieve myself from reflection which perhaps can bond me. Thinking about my last writing where I expressed an idea about ‘a way’ I was writing about bridging and bridges I was checking on the Internet definition of the word ‘bridge’ . I decided to bring it right here:

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Bridge 

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- bridge is a structure carrying a road, path, railway, etc. across a river, road, or other obstacle 

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- the elevated, enclosed platform on a ship from which the captain and officers direct operations 

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- the upper bony part of a person’s nose 

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- a partial denture supported by natural teeth on either side 

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- the part of a stringed instrument over which the strings are stretched

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- a bridge passage or middle eight 

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- the support for the top of a billiard is formed by the hand 

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- an electric circuit with two branches across which a detector or load is connected, used to measure resistance or other property by equalising the potential across the two ends of a detector, or to rectify on an alternating voltage or current.

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So, based on these definitions I was thinking that it’s clear, we might need to build bridges within this context

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Let’s build a bridge between my dog and a third party with eyes to avoid any accidents

Let’s build a bridge to roll the bowling ball

Let’s build a bridge between the island and a coping mechanism

Let’s build a bridge between my body and the unlimited

Let’s build a bridge between this sentence and an action

Let’s build a bridge between a cooking star and a nice result of sensitivity

Let’s build a bridge between you and me and the real you and me

Let’s build a bridge between searching for a way down from the roof and a locked friend there during this soft bright night 

Let’s build a bridge between two stuck-together fingers and a fire

Let’s build a bridge between moving out and an old newspaper with a dating page at the very end

Let’s build a bridge between looking for a one-euro bill in a closet stuffed with clothes and not a single hanger

Let’s build a bridge between overcoming thinking to avoid being boring and a system

Let’s build a bridge between untrue and proudness

Let’s build a bridge between the drawing of the letters on it and the act of pleasing

Let’s build a bridge between the feeling when you are stuck inside in the rotating door and a crane

Let’s build a bridge between an elevator and hash

Let’s build a bridge between an old drinking man who is a fake father and young people who put him in these circumstances 

Let’s build a bridge between poetry and a melting face cold

Let’s build a bridge to activate the wallpaper with a semi complex pattern

Let’s build a bridge between the desire to build a bridge and a bridge

Let’s build a bridge between a bridge and the Bridge

Let’s build a bridge between the end of the bridges

Let’s build a bridge between a day and the table full of glue

Somebody built a bridge between wax and your key

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I was thinking about the bottle of sparkling wine which was lowered by my neighbour from above on a thin thread, she was excited about my flowers and plants which were growing on my balcony, living opposite the cop house, my home was full of rock stars,                   so          she built a bridge. 

I finished one page then I turned it over. The page fell down on the right side with a very soft breeze coming towards my nose. It reminded me an overpass under which the shipping happened to go through. I was distracted at the end, it was early evening, I put the tablecloth with a defined pattern from the past on.

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I summarise the action of all of these:

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4 stakes of bribery, Contract, Pass, Contr - promise not to pay, Recontr - ignore

If the trade is not over, the player who said pass-can return, From left to right, Knocking out cards Next time please could you text someone to join us to play.

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While I was reading it again I was thinking about changing the end, the second part or the third it depends, if you start to reading it from the beginning or from the middle. I need to write an anecdote, the new beginning to, maybe a branch which doesn’t have a start.

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Later in the evening I was thinking again about bridges. Maybe a shortcut to the place where I have never been, the short cut beyond speed run time, or beyond the endless wrong recognition of the moment. 

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I washed an apple in the left sink and peeled a potato in the right. Between them there is this narrow silver island, a kind of bridge. I thought, the apple will never meet the potato, but still they share the same drain. It’s like two parallel stories that secretly end in the same ending. So I decided to throw the peelings back and forth across the bridge, just to see what will happen.

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Then I asked myself, is my body a bridge between the left and right hands, or are both hands a movable bridge that opens, while the body is a coast?​