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claudia pages
I
The Pharmacy is located
in Montserrat neighborhood
in Igualada city
a secondary and provincial city
if you type the name in Google
you can only find
cheap apartments
all badly insulated
made quickly
in concrete

Homais is not the father of anyone
might be the father of another town
of another century
he also has his elbows resting
on the counter

It’s a place
used to be a home
for gypsies
now it’s all full of bars
and people waiting in the corners
looking at the street
as if something important might happen
but nothing happens
the crisis turned the place
into ashes

A guy that wants
the lower thing after metadona
says:
don’t make me say it again
and the counter
doesn’t want to be turned
into an antagonistic place
or a normative one
so
everybody provides what is asked

The old gypsies come inside
all broken
now that they don’t have a united family
anymore
they use walking sticks

The pensioners are
the second most famous clients
they are accused of collapsing the economy
they are accused of keeping pills at home
hoarding them
letting them expire

During the night
Homais closes the crystal door
It has a small hole that can be opened
then
the thin crystal becomes the counter
— no room to lie down with your elbows

But it’s safe

Homais says that
it’s fucking hard to say ‘no’ to drug addicts
but it’s not your business
anymore
and now with the crystal door
it’s easier

Everybody always prefers
the counter
but
during the night
he prefers the crystal door

Bar counter
kitchen counter
drugs counter
no
no
check-out counter
for counting
accounting
and delivering

He has his elbows resting on the counter

The counter
is one of those types of furniture
that carries money
from one side
there’s demand
from the other
answers

The pills are placed in the middle
next to coins
they look so similar

One counter is made of plastic
PVC that can be piled
and carried to another place

A vinyl layer covers it
making a curve
— you can transport that counter to France
or you can keep it in Montserrat neighborhood
until the clients stop demanding

But they never stop

So they’ve got another counter
with a showcase
wooden skeleton base
sorry
plywood
glass on the top
through it you can see displayed:
pots
screw top pots
pipettes
pipettes with rubber stoppers
syringes
pressure tap syringes
and other objects
to carry liquid
that it’s better to keep cold

It’s the coughing
it’s the saliva
that swims on the air
and the demands
the complaints
and the sniffling noises
and the other waiting in a white shirt
that the germs won’t get through

Those silent liquids are the clear division
in the counter
— all the rest is fiction
and leaves people without memory

But of course
when they come in
they’re fucking nervous
— it’s not easy to live in a cheap apartment
made of concrete
and go inside a white space
without mucus
when you are full of mucus
and other germs

The walking stick of the gypsy
sounds perfect on the street
where nobody has the balls
to say
it’s my home
anymore

Young gypsies take psychoactives
and don’t walk on the concrete
they just stay at home


II
Homais likes to sing a song
when he encounters the young gypsies
that goes like:
YOU SWALLOW IT
SLOWLY IT GOES THROUGH YOUR NECK
BUT IT ENDS NOWHERE, I BET
IN AN EMPTY CARAFE
OUT OF YOUR BODY
YOU DON’T EVEN NOTICE IT
BLIND BABE
A LITTLE PINK LACE THAT CONNECTS ONLY YOU
BLIND BABE
AN ILLUSION OF THINKING
IT WILL FIT PERFECTLY ONLY TO YOU
ONE, TWO, THREE
INDIVIDUAL CAPSULES
BUT YOU ARE SWALLOWING
BUT YOU’VE FORGOTTEN:
WHERE ARE WE GOING TO MEET?


III
Two workers at the pharmacy
are thinking together intensely
on the power side of the counter
their thought will go like
will feel like:

Global Interdependence
is
when
we
feel
really
lonely
because
we
don’t
have
anything else
to
talk
about
with our friends
and
we
have
more
fun
looking
at other websites

Global interdependence
is
when
we
call
you
endogamous
because
you
fuck
each
other
and
we
just
want
to
fuck
in English
-and
be fucked
in English
too

Global Interdependence
is
when
we
feel
connected
to
somebody
but
we
have
forgotten
what
it’s
like
when
somebody
rubs
our skin

Global Interdependence
is
when
you
make
promises
but
then
you
cannot
accomplish them
because
yeah
you
don’t really
hold
the power

Global Interdependence
is
when
we’re
panicking
about
being
touched
but
we
know
we
will
be
touched
again
when
we
get
older
and
won’t
be able
to
move on our own

And more thoughts
will go like
will feel like:

We
are
self-sufficient
privately
dependent
but
we
might ask for help
from
time
to
time
we
keep
saying
that
we’re self-sufficient
although
we
know
it
means
nothing
anymore

We
are
not
self-sufficient
nobody
is
self-sufficient
and
we
know it
in the moment
that
we
ask
for something
then
we
know
we’re
not
self-sufficient
but
we
are
dependent
and
we
ask
for something
maybe
help
maybe
just
a clarification
and
this
help
we
try
to
keep it
in
silence, private
we
don’t want
you
to
know
we
ask
for
things
we
prefer
to
keep it
in
the
darkest room
possible

Why
is
it
like
that?
We are ashamed
we
are
ashamed
to
share
some
things
and so
we
try
to
find
solutions
on
our
own
but
as much
as we try
and
try
it gets
worse
as
the
solutions
only
keep us
on
the
same
border
on
the
edge
of
depending on money
as
when
we
say
privately dependent
the
first
thing
that
people
ask
is:
“Is this private thing money?”
No

Of
course
it’s
not
money
we’re
talking
about feelings
or
not
even
feelings
about
dependency
just
when
our
body
has an end
and
then
we
might
need
the
extension
of another one
-it
happens
almost
everyday

We
can
give
stupid
examples
like
when
you
can’t reach the salt
and
we help
to bring it closer
to
you
and
we
rub
your hand
or
when
we’re talking
really excitedly
and
one
word
doesn't
come
out
of
our mouths
and
you
say it
out loud
finishing
our
thought
and
our sentence

The
opposite
of
having
another
body
that
continues
you
is
the
indifference
you
might
be
afraid
of
indifference
as
it
seems
that it
doesn’t
need
dependency
but
it’s just
a
sublime
way
of
yelling for help


IV
Outside in the plaza
there’s an old Parthenon
grey and almost demolished
two people are staring at it
one says:
might be the time to make jokes
about
community crisis

the other replies:
to have a patriarch imposing
rules and norms
doesn’t sound correct to me

the first answers:
you are so predictable

the second one remembers:
Jo Freeman, you know?

the other replies:
yeah, she was so fucking good
talking in public
she was so fucking so good
so the other bitches trashed her out
the best they give her was a blackout

the second continues:
I guess she was TOO GOOD
at talking
they look again to the Parthenon

one breaks the silence:
the Parthenon is so beautiful
an awesome example of
little individuals holding a full structure
if one falls it all falls

the other comments:
I prefer Trajan’s Column
if it falls I will sniff its dust
and
if it’s necessary
explain later what it used to carry

the other replies:
you are so predictable


V
She used to dream about apartments with a living room
in her one bed one room apartment
but she has a double bed almost king size
so she feels like a queen while she cries
when she gets to the studio she only thinks in
fucking and talking not really eloquently though
she rehearsed the speech to be announced
fucking and talking she is so brilliant
but she is not ready to talk in public
she thinks of the mums who don’t forget to sing lullabies
melancholic and nostalgic as the tribes
lullabies have something dark cold and lonely
as if someone wanted to rip you from someone else’s arms
they’re the threshold of dreams
and the mums paint them in grey
and when they arrive at the deep state
they only have them as guides as grooves
inside their dreams and voices that will quilt the floor
raising up new walls in a mournful smell
the mother will project and the baby will fear
but that’s why their singing sounds like architectural maps
the pillars are bodies like logs like scraps
following the rhythm by thumb sucking
they had learnt something from those murmurs
singing is made for telling the truth
vanished sounds but theirs are forever
it’s the melody which stays more than the text
in those songs that don’t stop in language
and want to become a body a purr
the fucked up olds remember the old melodies
and after years of nights sleeping alone
they realise they all had the same songs
from singing with clenched teeth without letting the words out
as babies and slobs don’t understand language
and just want to make sexual sounds
what can she see from her bed?
she’s scared to spend too much time outdoors
trying to see if she belongs to the crowd
or her apartment belongs to her
she tried to look for things that vanish
and don’t leave material traces
sitting on the grey carpet and segregating saliva
that dyes the fabric and later disappears
in the middle of the grey one can see the ambition
to leave the building and have a solitary voice
create some hits to groove with the others
and make their spines lift straighter
and ask someone to help her out
neither as a favour nor a collaboration
because she hates the fucking prompters
insistent echoes that say what you should say
if you forget the line or even if you don’t
who can live in this city where everybody claps?
she’s tired of the prompter the crew and her mum
to have a partner never worked for her either
she just wanted to cut out her own tongue
and be her own Philomela muse
for her rhymes for her vocal sounds
but she doesn’t want to shut up
if you shut up one voice you switch all of them off
and you wonder if she still thinks deeply
losing all the charisma of the tongue
Publication. Printed plastic. Core sizes 30x90cm.
Publication display. Steel, 100x50x50 cm
Table. Aluminium, mdf, enamel, 90x240cm.
Carpet. Polyester. Variable sizes.
Audio 20'40''

You can find the publications at:
- San Serriffe. Sint Annestraat 30. Amsterdam. NL
- Múltiplos. Joaquin Costa 30. Barcelona. ES
- La Panera. Plaça Panera 2. Lleida. ES

Photos by Nolwenn Salaün and Robert Glas.

Publication designed by Ott Metusala.

Thank you Lara Konraad, Marc Navarro and
Will Pollard.

Project supported by Centre d'Art La Panera, Sala d'Art Jove and Sandberg Instituut.
Throat and Column is an exhibition in two. 2016

Throat and Column I
The performance Throat and Column explores different architectures for talking and addiction. From the globalization of pharmacies and their new forms of distribution, the abuse of psychoactives and recreational drugs, the therapy and its money relation, to its affects inside relations and communities.
A publication printed in plastic that works as a chorus is given during the performance.

Throat and Column II
Different objects are displayed in the room. A screw, a circular knitted collar and a pop-up counter.