Storytelling the means to exist
Art by Brie Jorgensen
Storytelling the means to exist
As I delve into words.
Verbs.
Adjectives.
Letters.
Forms.
Thoughts are quickly transformed. We enter into another realm, politically, conceptually and emotionally. Language can enlighten, include and destroy the reader. Western language is imbedded from a historical idea of white masculinity; those who do not 'categorise' under said nouns are punctured and torn within their existence. This includes all genders, races, classes, sexualities, disabilities, nonbinary and trans. The problem at hand is the extent of languages objectifications towards a subject; a further distance from the languages criteria results in a heightened level of objectification.
Patriarchal language is a complex structure. A historical tool, cementing the gravel we walk upon. For this reason, I choose not to ramble on the grit that breaks my teeth. I believe tatty slogans and ideals receive enough airtime and a discussion for another time.
Currently I am unravelling my female tongue, allowing it to respire deeply, waiting until it is ready to transcribe within its own terms.
It wishes. We wish to suggest a mental and physical existence within story telling, to channel the metaphor and regurgitate the reasons to relish in its outside/inside relation. The outside being the manifestation from exiting the external world, the inside being our mental perception towards the external world.
As a writer and artist, this may be a biased view. Maybe I am living within a fantasy and this idea is obscure. However, the metaphor is a crane in support of my limp body, it upheaves my brittle spine, averting any injuries from dismantling a holistic self.
To presume that existing within storytelling on a full time basis is impossible. Our brains would get lost within the metaphor and potentially it would result in a meaningless perception. What storytelling provides is an opportunity to reuse language against itself; the human being may then reconfigure the ties of language.
A space is created for the individual, allowing them to translate their own tongue within a patriarchal form. Language instead begins to perform to the subject’s wishes; it is used against itself and transcends the objectified subject into the creat(e) of words.
What a pleasurable moment in time and space whereby the uttered words belong to the I of the individual. It is a moment to celebrate the personal experience of existence, identity and feeling. Looking back, doubts are stimulated towards this dancing page. Is it too ambitious, naïve and existing within its own fantasy? Perhaps this was the point.