FLORIA GONZALEZ

POSTPARTUM

2016

Postpartum part 1
Postpartum is a transforming and purifying stage, it can as well work as a metaphor for any extreme time can feel and go through. From which all basic concepts of existence; human relations, love, illumination, time, energy, fears, ego and the most important questions, are brought under a new light by which we rebuild and reconfigure our personality and we never go back to who we were. A humid and lukewarm atmosphere invades the blue room, “the middle room” my cousins used to call a blue room between two bedrooms at my grandma’ house and that now holds the same color and place in my house. The middle room, where I can now recall is where my grandfather José died. This room is kind of like a time machine, that you can find if you look for it. The blue room had its time of glory, light came through showing its specks through the air only at a certain time, enlightening everything, though it was never enough for time to pass naturally according to humans. During this stage, time stopped being what I knew. Colors started to subtly appear on the ceiling, I was asked to be specific so they wouldn’t get lost. Physical ache didn’t make it possible for me to snuggle with the past, or to call to the future, present grabbed me by the head and roared at me like a lion roars at its prey. Fear that was only asleep for a couple of months, resurfaced in dreams telling tales of a future that now exists in the present, as there is only that, the present. The rocking chair that I had bought in a used items market rocked at night with or without my help, my feet danced with happiness and with fear and slept when they could dance no more and shyly looked for my best friend’s feet that slept beside me.

On February 7, 2014, I woke up with no hands, it was hard to move in time of fear and sleepiness. My hair slowly reached the floor to be swept and handed to the trash. My breasts now hanged like two pieces of Ernesto Nieto. Little by little I recovered conscience and managed to grow my hands and my hair, breasts I’m still working on.... This universe that creates, at the same time allowed me to create a small conscience within a big one to keep experimenting, I welcomed life.

Postpartum part 2
Accumulated matter slowly started to disintegrate. Mind started to throw rocks and they started to float in the air until they reached space. The air stopped being humid and colors returned to their places ready to go out into the street. Cells talked to each other remembering made up past lives and rearranged to form new patterns. Ghost cells... ghost cell that doesn’t float, is just there. And when you reach that place, the mind interrupts, divides. And I find myself at sea cleansing my feet in the water. We moved from the blue room to the main room of the house within a couple of months, but we always come back to travel in it. And just like that I could feel time at its fullest, time that is not linear; where past meets present and future, the unconscious with the conscious, sky with sea, rocks lose their density and float, and you can’t tell the difference between a tree and a horse. The present.