In my confinement/Uväznená

In my confinement, I work.
In my work I find out.
In my finding out, I bathe.

Here are some of the collected works I have done and recorded in the period of our confinement,
since mid March 2020 till the God knows when.
Many other works were made for the ´self of the moment´ and taken away by the light to celebrate the impermanence of everything.

Some thoughts, poems, images nestled in my notebook, camera or folders may be slowly transcribed within these lines.

I am glad you pass by.


V mojom väzení, pracujem.
V mojej práci, objavujem.
V mojich objavoch sa rozplývam.

Tu je niekoľko pozbieraných prác, ktoré som spravila v období nášho uväznenia, od polovice Marca 2020 do Boh vie kedy.
Veľa ďalších prác vzniklo pre sám moment and odišlo so svetlom na oslavu nestálosti všetkého.

Niektoré myšlienky, básne, obrazy uložené v zápisníkoch, kamere, priečinkoch budú možno postupne prepísané do týchto riadkov.

Som rada, že ste tadiaľto prešli.






Studio work




"We unfold from ourselves."
Agnes Martin








(voice and text, electronics, live record)

3. 4. 2020

The holy vein
vein blue and green
severely shining out
into the day

Here we are
kissing the ground
with ankles
embracing the horizon
with teeth

Patient yet unresolved
obedient yet burning wild


I may sleep now
after my heart
temporarily stolen
by the dessertic wind
has just arrived

I may lay my head and nape
on the arching shoulder of the grave grape

To rest is to give in
permit being drawn
by ropes of the original song

Then all the buzz and twist and thrill
will rinse our feet
and whisper
"You busy Darling, sleep sweet."

. . . . . . .

(You can order your own Kimono
/Môžete si objednať vlastné Kimono.)


´I was given a rose.´
10th April 2020

25. 3. 2020

Skin breathes in the clock of a day
Mountains rise from the evaporated water array

The angles that separated us from spatial allowance disappear
Only we - you and me - remain
on the earth embracing our dances by it´s cosmic limbs again and again

. . . . . . .

5. 5. 2020

(Caravans penetrate
the distance
that divides us.)

Sleep on the way
wake on the tray
full of flowers I bring
into your embrace.

Smell what you smell
when you dream
when the diamonds, frogs and lobsters
observe you from within.

Sleep on the way
till the array
of your courageous imaginations
transfers the skies
till your tongue touches the gods
and cooks from the genome
a new kind of being
- a being that as a stone
does not need
to show its bone
a being of nothing and all.






Alive Aligned
26. 3. 2020

Pears have accepted
their shape
Hollywood took distance
Semiotic symbiosis unwound
and established a nouvelle vague

Are you of silver or gold?
My sunglasses do not permit to see more
than what I am told

Are you shaking or keeping the groove?
My epide(r)mic sense
has been moved or removed

. . .

I forgot to keep the line
in the day that does
not stay aligned.

. . .

My vision
- in a thin line
the next world
still believes
the body will continue
to make its choice


the pears with their bellies down
in the ebb and flow will let me hear their voice
arriving in the shapes of lasting question:

´By what are you alive

. . . . . . .