Is it possible to “capture” the moment of the “end” of love?

In his book, The Last Reader, the Argentinian Ricardo Bigiglia refers to the moment when Franz Kafka got to know Felice Bauer, to explain his hypothesis about the beloved reader whose “love” Kafka experienced by constantly reading his letters, while in this, Bigella notes that we know exactly the moment of the beginning of their relationship, Kafka recorded everything in his diary and described how he first met Phyllis at Max Brod’s house. And the writer of the trial adds in the same letter: “The first time I looked. at her, I stared at her, and after sitting down I formed a fixed opinion of her.”

We read later how Kafka writes to Phyllis for the first time on September 20, 1913: “Miss, on the very possibility that you will not remember me in the least, I introduce myself to you again, my name is Frans Kafka, and I greeted you for the first time one afternoon, in the house of Mr. Praag…”.

Kafka’s diary helps us because it monitors the moment of the first meeting, naturally from Kafka’s point of view, as we feel the randomness and ordinariness of the moment, the moment during which Phyllis became the object of Kafka’s love, which did not hesitate , but tried to write down the moment of the phantasm that establishes their love, focusing on the place, and his first position on what will become the object of his love.

In the exhibition (Another Love Story) we feel the moment Carla Heraldo Volo discovers that the one she loves is a fraud and is leading a double life.

Those first moments are engraved in the memory when we “love”, and they enter into our self-formation, like a moment of birth, but unlike the biological, it is a moment that we accurately remember, not faded into the subconscious not. , is the image of the first meeting, the moment of subconscious decision or intuition, that this other is part of me, and I am part of it. It is a moment of a crack in self-discipline and an openness to the “other”, the one who has loved since this moment that has no value except that it is the beginning moment between two strangers, a vulgar moment if you will, Kafka himself described Phyllis at the time as “the servant” and added that she did not pique his interest. And meeting her was not the purpose of his visit, but rather she happened to be present while he was handing over the manuscript of one of his people. stories to Brod, but a photo was taken in the dark brain room of her moment, and released the spectrum of love.

The opposite of the image of the beginning, represented by the “moment” of the end, because love is not eternal and must be interrupted and delayed, making the end excessively emotional seconds. , and it’s rare to record his moment accurately because we take it back to build a story behind it, because the ending is an interpretive effort of the past, and a rereading of it.

The end is a result, not a random moment like the beginning, and for the end to be real it must be preceded by a process that seals or heals the first wound, the wound of love, because the end is not an accidental moment. , why? Because love can (maybe) appear at first sight, it opens the door to permissiveness and permissibility. As for parting and the end, it is a long battle, or as in the root “forbid” a prohibition and warning. Raindrops, rather we mean farewell in the sense that two lives have come together and they have to separate, sometimes share home and world affairs, look for another, and repack the furniture, that is, everything related to the status of the two lovers in society, reconsidered, not represented on the screen.

The moment of the end can be touched Watch it and read it In the photography exhibition “Another Love Story” at the European House of Photography in Paris, artist Carla Heraldo Folo, in which she uses the text of the dialogue print and the intimate photograph, as mediums in which she relives her relationship with X, a fraudulent lover with a double life. He is someone I met by chance, fell in love with, and then decided to live together in a new house after a year of their relationship, until one morning, after a sudden phone call, she discovered that he lives with another woman and in an ongoing relationship with her, as if Carla never existed in his life.

If the beginning of love is a fixed and unforgettable image, its end is a moment in which time and memories gather in mourning for the self’s loss of its character as a lover’s seducer.

Abbreviating the failed love story or the deception in the previous form does not do it justice, and this is precisely what concerns us, that is, how can we monitor the “end”? Or how to arrange emotions, memories and new information about betrayal within a white wall gallery?

What Carla does is simple at first glance, because we see on the walls a text printed on A4 sheets, which tells of a morning call Carla made as soon as she woke up, after receiving a text message while she was sleeping and asked her. to call “this number” for an urgent matter. Carla calls, and the conversation flows between her and the unknown woman in the form of a mutual confession, the unknown wants to tell Carla that her “lover” with whom she lives is a liar and a cheat. He lives a double life and cheats on both. We follow the 12 pages of the script throughout the exhibition until we reach the end. After Carla and the unknown woman interrupt their information, they decide to meet later to solve the “problem”.

But the above is not enough, the history of literature is full of these moments, and here comes the role of photography, as we trace between the hanging pages, frames containing photographs taken by Carla of her cheating lover (in collaboration with a actor playing the role of X), these images are far from “photography” in the artistic sense. , these are intimate photos, the moment I get out of the shower with the camera shaking, the booming bed toys, nipple here, thigh there, preparing a meal in underwear, a photo of an angry X at the station after the train is late. These are not paintings, but a form of game between two lovers who betray each other for pleasure and love.

The photography in the exhibition documents over the course of a year marginal details, those that paradoxically fall apart at the moment of realizing the end, events that have no value except for the “I”, like an emergency response so that the self regains its balance, marred by regret of some kind, its effect reverberates in the back of the brain at the moment of the next end I wish I hadn’t given him my favorite mug to drink from. “I shouldn’t tell him about my girlfriend I hated at school,” “I shouldn’t have complimented or compromised that I don’t like cheese with pasta,” and here is another paradox, the conversation we read has between the two women is very serious, a moment of revelation, far from each The distance from the intimate that we see in the photos, as if each of them revealed to the other how that man deceived us, not how we through he was not deceived.

The cruelty of the moment of the end of love is manifested by two shocks, the first is the loss of that seductive and seductive ego, and the second is the rediscovery of the ego after the temptation and the other desire have been removed from it.

If the beginning moment is a clear image, its details are unforgettable, like an unbending foundation, the ending moment is a condensation of memory, and the collapse of the world in one moment, all the images flow together, not torn not, but come and go, as if it were an un-doing process. Or, if we want to be pedantic, it is the analogy of the process of “pollution” derived from the world of chemistry, that is, the removal of water from various compounds. This is what happens when images flow, the ego “swells” itself, stripping the beloved’s water, images and memories with it, so that the ego returns pure, without those others, free from moments of play and temptation, those in which we ” perform” to the other, to say that we are the best and optimal for his love, “I am” “I am not the seducer, but a copy that looks like the desire of the lover, so we live in alienation of the “I” and the fear that the “illusion” of seduction may be exposed, and here the cruelty of the final moment is manifested by two shocks, the first is the loss of that seductive and seduced I, and the second is the rediscovery from the ego to the removal / blamh The temptation and the other desire, because at that moment she can discover her own sorrow, that is to say without temptation and love the ego is no longer what she wants, an example in the eyes of the others who do so do not change or replace.

….

Seven minutes was the duration of the call that took place between Carla and the second woman, seven minutes revealed the truth and established the “end” moment, only seven minutes flowed through which images of an entire year flowed, after which Carla the phone, put the song I will survive, and write an ending “I sing loudly, dance, I do everything I can to imprint this moment of happiness in my memory. I have to rewrite everything.”

What is striking is that Carla chose to write down the incident between her and the unknown girl in the form of a cinematic scenario, that is, scenes interspersed with segmented dialogue, and here is the difference from the beginning which we at the beginning of the exhibition as a postcard left to her by young X. The end is a continuous event (7 minutes), and the text is formed as a cinematic scenario It makes us feel the flow of time and breath and its interruption, to see ourselves when we look at the exhibition from afar, that is, we stood at the beginning of the hall, in front of two mediators talking, mediators somewhat contradictory, cinematic dialogue, instants, which we read as they happen, and intimate images of memory, which are supposed not to appear. Someone has it, either because of its quality or its quality, ie what is said in the conversation is completely different from what we see in the pictures, and maybe this is the “end” between the truth of what we say and the illusion of what we have experienced and what we have done, and grief at the loss of the self as an object of love.

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