Sabine Korth: The making of the book dummy “Second Wind” in July 2017.
In 2010 in a museum shop in Florence I bought Salman Rushdie’s book “The Enchantress of Florence”. I read it in one take, captured by the Remix of historical facts and names in a novel of intriguing fantasy.
Earlier this year listening to the companion audio book, my glance fell on some cut out animals from my previous project “Habitat”.
I opened a drawer and found a box of very old photographs, a special gift from a dear friend. They cover the life of her lover, which ended too early. She entrusted me with the photos: I don’t need paper to remember him, but you might breathe new life into them. The whole box was damaged in the great Florence flood of 1966 and most images are half covered with mud in a most beautiful manner.
The ancient prints are very much alive, refuse to lie flat, I choose to photograph them capturing the three-dimensionality.
The silver emulsion refuses to fade, to disappear. Broken, bend, half obliterated from mud it goes on bearing messages. The collages are evoking other stories, the viewer can make up his own narratives, but the silvery fragments are firmly rooted in history.
In this book I use 40 quotes from Salman Rushdie’s book. Every double page spread is a kind of triptych combining a color backdrop (original handprinted acrylic artwork 14x14cm) with one vintage photo fragment from Florence and one quote. The words are cut from the book and photographed.
The box of photos and selected sentences from the box flew together naturally in In this book I use 40 quotes from Salman Rushdie’s book. Every double page spread is a kind of triptych combining a color backdrop (original handprinted acrylic artwork 14x14cm) with one vintage photo fragment from Florence and one quote. The words are cut from the book and photographed.
The box of photos and selected sentences from the box flew together naturally in a liason, an airy dialogue.
I am a collagista. Everything which crosses my path is torn into fragments and imagined in new combinations.
Words, thoughts and pictures, neverlands with inhabitants, travelers, encounters, paradox, past and future, renaissance: second wind. The title is inspired by the song “Second Wind” by Greg Trooper.
I feel a strong kinship with many of Rushdie’s ideas about creativity, migration, homeland, gardening and a thousand and one more things. I have read most of his works and know he is a sustainer and lover of fine arts. I sent him the Pdf of my project, and asked permission to use the text quotes.
The sentences constitute a very small percentage of the whole novel and I cite the author and the book, so there are no legal problems, but I rather prefer to have Mr. Rushdie’s agreement.
The book is dedicated to Giovanna, Giuliano and Greg.
“The only people who see the whole picture,' he murmured,
'are the ones who step out of the frame.”
Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet
"The road is the destination
and I am always on the road "
In the first half of my life I was a hungry traveler, now in the second half I am excited to travel in my archive of pictures, books, diaries and last not least contact sheets. They are my autobiography.
The german painter Paul Klee and the collage artist Hannah Höch agreed:
"We need to return children,
but children inside an adult
to access the creative moment "
When I was fourteen 14 I experienced for the first time the spell of silver printed magic … photograms, white light shapes on black silver paper … the never ending surprise of unimagined outcomes … the trill of ability and coincidence, trial and error… process and perception.
I never stopped looking for that experience … different chapters of life ... different themes … different techniques … the essence of all my research is to keep the magic working … a beautiful addiction.
Later people asked me to share the process … said I am able to transmit the joy of creating something out of nothing …
“ Writing is as close as we get to keeping a hold on the thousand and one things-- childhood, certainties, cities, doubts, dreams, instants, phrases, parents, loves--that go on slipping , like sand, through our fingers.”
Salman Rushdie, Imaginary Homelands: Essays and Criticism 1981-1991