“A girl sits and cuts coal with a knife and fork on a plate. She puts the piece of coal in her mouth and walks towards me. She grabs my shoulders, leans forward. Then she places her cheek against my cheek. She holds around my shoulders and chews. I can hear how the coal is crunching in her mouth, she grinds it down until there is nothing left. She breaks free from the embrace. I think it’s over. (…) Then someone grabs my arm. It’s the girl with the coal. She places a small box in my hand. A glass box with a plastic lid. It’s the coal. She has chewed it for me and now I’m getting it back. I put it in my purse. … When I leave Sunday evening there is still a little box with coal and spit in my purse. Thank you for giving me your DNA, thank you for the trust, I’m thinking for myself. Actually I’m carrying a whole lot more.”
Text by Lisa Stålspets translated to English by Aksel Norreen Hauklien
This performance was inspired by my observation of how people greet each other in Oslo. Their embraces were often brief and distant; they touched cheeks but did not kiss, and their bodies did not meet in the middle.
In “Black Noise,” I cut charcoal into small pieces while attempting to hold an audience member's gaze. As we make eye contact, I walk towards them, maintaining my focus on their eyes. I place my hands on their shoulders and rest my cheek against theirs. I begin chewing the coal, and the sound of the cracking coal resonates through our heads. I can feel their heart racing, along with the heat and sweat generated by this close and prolonged moment of connection.
As the coal liquefies in my mouth, our bodies begin to relax. Afterward, I return to my spot and capture the essence of our encounter in a small container. I seek out that person again to present it to them as a keepsake of our intimate experience.