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Tine Metz
 

Title of Work:     Dream Journal
Medium:             Ballpoint Pencil on Paper
Date Created:     11/2009 - 5/2010

 

These are sketches from my dream diary, rough quick drawings made in the morning right after the night of the dream(s) in a spontaneous setting, using a ballpoint pencil (... it's a tricky technique because the littlest line, once drawn, can't be erased - also not if it looks utterly wrong).

 

Usually I choose a scene that kind of tucks the whole of the dream, including changes and movements; sometimes it's just a sentence, or a message written down; it may be a short snippet which unfolds in the process of sketching (1) thus allowing a deeper inspection; sometimes the image springs from a more complex dream (2) where the row of events becomes the blueprint of a synchronized tableau.

 

Scrolling down the pages one by one, the single dreams seem to mix and intertwine, giving a slight idea of a much larger dreamscape. It is a map, the mystical reflection of a stranger, of myself. I find the dreamer who sets out when I lay asleep seems to know me so much better than I do. Yet who am I ? So I follow the dreamer's travels who untiringly tries to get me in touch with what lays beyond the personal field (for now I call it the universal mind) where each is a voice in the great choir.

 

(1) 'Lost prescription' (Dream Journal 2, down to the right, no title entry) 'On a city walk with a little child, I'm pushing his baby buggy. The child points to a small kiosk in between two houses. Everything is multicolored there, and just gorgeous. I find a lost prescription on the street. An important message is written on it. We head for the pharmacy.'

 

(2) 'My sister hands me a set of flutes' (Dream Journal 1, right) 'I meet my sister at a highway gas station. We sit underneath big trees on a wooden bench. She hands me a set of flutes in choroi style. Some are wide, some are narrow and slightly curved. I try to play the wide one. Instead of holes, it has multiple red and green blinking lights in rows, like a device to measure most subtle energy waves. Each tone I play opens a different dimension. While I play, a vigorous elderly lady appears on the parking lot. She is the leader of a large choir. All the choir people are singing now. She conducts with ardent passion. The voices of the singers and the flute become one.'








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