Lise Barkas & Lisa Käuffert
Two faces, one long, one slightly shorter. Gentle folk tales.
Sat round a fire as the only source of warmth. You’ve been camped out here for days with these strangers. Wrapped in the cloth that was handed down, it will be months until you’ll be able to find some more. The darkness looms as you settle in for your favourite part of the day. To be immersed in the evening story is one of few pleasures.
The trees surround you and grow larger as the fire billows through your periphery. This forest is unfamiliar but how can you make comparisons? The days are a blur, almost as if you have never left this seat.
The cold pierces the skin, though the gust hold you through. In the same circle, in the same formation. A voice?
Maybe it's there, maybe not. Something is felt. You wonder if the story is internal? Again the flames grow higher. Why is there never a face who speaks? This is the first time you’ve thought about its association. How long have you been with these people? Your eyes are searching, but there is no point.
This is the first time you’ve felt frustration. Eventually the embers start to fade and the tiredness ensues. Are you sure the story was yours? Are you sure the story was told? You lean back as the trees arch over you, closer and closer. There is no resistance…
Has there ever been?