Images by Daniel Jarosch
2020. sewing thread on paper, ballet shoes. 40 × 30 cm each
When I write, I place. Thesis. One word, one foot in front of the other. Since the Baroque era, aplomb has been used in the language of ballet to denote the ability of a dancer to catch an out-of-step, unforeseen movement and to not lose their posture during the fastest and most dizzying turns. Because this posture does not lose its footing even when the floor is swaying, it could be considered an “impertinence” since the 17th century when it was lent “weight” to in social dealings with aplomb (these are all possible translations of “aplomb”). What becomes thetic, takes on an attitude. But what becomes thetic, can also become. Sometimes, this is even the most unabashed and resistant thing a placement can do. What becomes thetic, can be seen, read, understood, heard, misunderstood, quoted differently, written on. What takes on a form, can please and displease. And it can fall. It can fall out of place. Like used up ballet shoes. What has become thetic, can be handed over. To forgetting, to passing away, to going, to moving on. To the memory. To the archives. To translations. And even if they are almost illegible – on the soles of their feet.