Jane Doe still lives amongst us all.

She won’t give up.

I know she’s a recurrent white wave, she continues to die in hidden places in  States,  cities,  roads,  cornfields,

rivers, lakes, black holes, sordid ditches, forgotten cabins in neglected woods and forests.

She always haunts us.

I think about her. She already crossed the line.

She was born to be killed, forgotten, ignored, discarded as  rubbish.

I know her, she is emaciated, she’s got nothing, she loves music and she dreams about love and happiness, 

she left everything, she’s scared of abusers, she’s alive and nearly dead.

She wears worn shoes and her skirt glows with a thousand of blood stains particles, her torn-down top lets me see her mangled white tits.

Her naked legs should have run faster than the killer.

But now her little hands open undone for the cold past which should be warmer and most tangible like a smile or stroking.

The skin still smells her intimate life, as vulnerable as when it was alive, as dead.

When she dies, her body begins so heavy and full of soul.

Her soul stays around for a while, a long while until Jane  will burn and rot  in the rain and putrefy.

Jane Doe remains rot-proof in my heart.

Her last belongings reveal her lack of illusion. She would be aware before all of this shit, she would know her murderer, like we breathe.

She’s a special person. Nobody knows her. Except some relatives they never asked for her and abandoned her.

I love her so much.

Alice ODILON

 "AKA Jane Doe 0042 – Pushed from a moving vehicle on 26/01/1999"

Photo: Copyright "Sans Toit Ni Loi" de Agnès VARDA.

Elle marche dans cette plaine tranchée par la nationale.

Parfois elle rejoint la route, en grimpant les tâlus et sautant péniblement les fossés.

La boue, partout, çà colle aux godasses et Jane manque de s’enfoncer dans cette saloperie.

La vie ralentit de plus en plus.

Le jeu consiste en ce que Jane perde la force de continuer, oublie de vivre pour rien, admette incarner la proie.

Jane rêve de grandes routes menant vers la mer, chante un air pacotille, joue à la princesse de la légèreté.

Un anneau en argent serti d’une belle turqoise brute, embrasse son majeur si fin et si noir de crasse.

La chemise cow boy de Jane pue la sueur du froid et de la peur.

Son jean sexy gainent ses cuisses longues, embrasse son cul meurtri par les sexes en forme de gourdins.

Jane n’est pas pressée de mourir, Jane attend la vie.

Jane a faim, Jane n’espère pas la chaleur de tes bras, Jane garde sa canette de bière pour ce soir.

La terre grince sous ses ongles noirs, ses cheveux longs froissés s’éteignent dans la lumière.

Ses yeux, ce sont les yeux les plus beaux que j’ai imaginés.

Ils brillent en séchant dans l’air lourd.

Faire du stop, encore 15 km avant le prochain village.

Trouver un pont pour se cacher, pour oublier, dormir.

Le vent épuise tout élan de Jane.

Cesser de contrôler, cesser d’attendre la joie, cesser d’aller.

Jane va se faire tuer par le premier tordu qui passe.

Cette issue arrachée libère Jane de l’abandon des hommes,

Jane DOE, la Princesse.

"Hunstville Jane Doe TEXAS"

"Princess DOE".

copyright Alice ODILON june 2009. "Défi-Jane". Tous droits réservés.

As a photographer and as an anorexic woman photographer,

I've always used expressionists ways, and border-line ways to express myself with my photographs since 1977.

I didn't choose the easy way, the aseptic way, the fashion way to tell the implacable illness I had to deal with,

and the exceptional gift of anorexia: sharp-eye, acute lucidity, specific search in the Absolute.

At the age of 17, I began my self-portraits, without fear and superficiality, trying to connect with my authentic life.

It was in 1982, my first exhibition in Galerie 666, rue Maître Albert, Paris 4ème, was a time bomb,

because nobody told about anorexia, expect Valérie Valère or Sheila MacLeod and Julia Kristeva.

The secret language of anorexia became public and it was the first time, anorexic self-portraits

were showed in a Gallery (Galerie 666 – PARIS ) in the world. (Gallery closed in 1988).

Today many pseudo artists play with the subject which has became a growth niche.

And now the subject is sterilized and covered up with esthetic commercial pictures they're sold in Art fairs.

But the tortured soul of anorexia is still here and stays helpless and uncontrollable.

I tried to "enter" my work on wikipedia in order to participate to the "community".

I was immediatly rejected, because I work on the reasons of anorexia and not on the effects.

In addition of this, I've watched a program on TV about Stockholm solution in a specialized clinic

for anorexic daughters of wealthy families, which was the perfect demonstration of a growth business.

That's only industry, diet clinic industry. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_zajjRbyEo&feature=related

I've seen pictures made by deutsch photographer Yvonne Thein.

[These pictures were "intended as a mocking and satirical take on pro-ana".

But these pictures have been nevertheless used as inspiration by anorexic persons. Wikipedia ]

That means for me, these double edged pictures equivocate deliberately.

Because I think this photographer is in love with anorexic allure.

When I took a close look about these pictures, I realized they were a plagiary of my work: " Series BM1-BM2 and BN" from february 2008.

http://www.aliceodilon.com/Pages/Alice%20Odilon%20Images%202008%20BN.html

http://www.aliceodilon.com/Pages/Alice%20Odilon%20Images%202008%20BM1.html

The obvious plagiary is flagrant.

She just copied my pictures.

She stole ideas, style, form, look and feel, identity of my work, my author's rights with her total witting plagiary of my work.

For me the reason of this big mistake is she's not anorexic and she speaks about something she doesn't know.

She just used the symbol of extreme sharp thinness and the shield of virginity and beauty of "blé en herbe" because

she deeply, aspired to this buried, concealed estheticism. There is only a question of myth of inaccesible abstract beauty.

In my opinion, if she wanted to denounce pro-ana websites, she had to show real body of anorexic persons and not this soft,

clean, coquettish "verdict".

Because the reality of anorexic body is:

( Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anorexia_nervosa)

• Stunted growth

•

• Endocrine disorder, leading to cessation of periods in females (amenorrhoea)

•

• Decreased libido; impotence in males

•

• Reduced metabolism, slow heart rate (bradycardia), hypotension,

•

• orthostatic hypotension, hypothermia, inappropriate sinus tachycardia and anemia

•

• Abnormalities of mineral and electrolyte levels in the body

•

• Thinning of the hair

•

• Growth of lanugo hair over the body

•

• Constantly feeling cold

•

• Constipation

•

• Abnormalities of mineral and electrolyte levels

•

• Zinc deficiency

•

• Potassium deficiency

•

• Refeeding syndrome

•

• Reduction in white blood cell count

•

• Reduced immune system function

•

• Pallid complexion and sunken eyes

•

• Patulous eustachian tube

•

• Creaking joints and bones

•

• Osteoporosis

•

• Collection of fluid in ankles during the day and around eyes during the night or peripheral oedema

•

• Tooth decay

•

• Dry skin

•

• Dry or chapped lips

•

• Poor circulation (cool peripheries), resulting in common attacks of 'pins and

• needles' (Parathesia)and purple extremities

with a constant terrible suffering overwhelming body and soul.

Superficiality is not proper.

Alice ODILON

copyright Alice ODILON June 2009 – "Crutch" . tous droits réservés. No clone is free.

I was born with anorexia as an unwelcome gift, I had no choice but to live with it.

I was likely to be "at risk", so, at 17, I ran away, I left home which was not a home for me, but a sort of hell.

Cold and destructive.

I worked as cleaner, sales assistant, to pay my Art studies during 5 years.

Art was my life’s sole objective.

I could never have survived without this all consuming and focused passion.

This Art (photography) was stronger than any form of addiction; it gave me a crucial sense of life.

However I remained a person at risk: likely to fail, fall, and lose myself, because I was gifted with

a heightened sensitivity and a very acute perception, which, in a certain way was very dangerous for me.

When I was 32, I met evil in the form of a narcissistic pervert who, for 3 years, transformed my life into slavery.

I’m convinced, because I was an anorexic person, eating-disorder person, I was susceptible to becoming a victim

of a manipulator, a woman beater.

This outcome was a near scientific fatality as all in me was able to connect with perdition, addiction, slavery.

Now I’m 49 and I’ve been born a second time.

Thanks to Art I have woken up and it has helped me to sit up literally.

It seems simple like that but life can be very painful when one is the victim of someone who is stronger.

My great good luck comes from my rebel side that nobody can kill.

Inside us all we need a little place of light, very strong, virtually in contradiction with the sad rest of us.

In this way we already have the tools to survive, even in the worst of times.

Antablog has been created to answer all sorts of questions that anorexics, abused persons,

or runaways frequently ask.

A sort of FAQ.

This blog is for us, for you, especially if you’re in the dark at this stage.

All the best.

Alice ODILON.

This information is provided for guidance only and you are strongly recommended to seek suitable expert advice and help ASAP, if you’re in danger.

www.womanabuseprevention.com/html/emotional_abuse.html

If somebody had told  me I would be abused, I would have laughed in his face.

I grew up in a french wealthy family. Some troubles had disturbed my childhood,

there was a black hole in the middle of my mind.

"Les  mains de Marie". Copyright Alice ODILON 2005.

My memory failed about the past. My parents spoke about me as a "traumatized child".

I have been anorexic for years as a teenager.

I just remembered a stranger holding me in his arms as a sexual doll.

"Les mains de Mr H". Copyright Alice Odilon 2005.

After a couple of hours of this man touching me and showing me to another man, I let them besmirch me,

because I was alone this afternoon, I was 5.

"Marie capturée par les mains de Monsieur H". Copyright Alice ODILON 2005.

That was all I was able to know about my dark past. Nobody told me about, never I got light about it, never.

As I was born in a privileged world, I went to University and enjoyed a comfortable luxury lifestyle.

I was erudite woman with High School diploma of Fine Art in Paris.

But I began nothing, a slave of a manipulator.

I met evil via Internet.  We get in touch in a cafe in Paris, it was a Monday in February 1992.

I got a premonition this day, that something strong and shady will happened to me, but at this time, I was quiet depressed

and lonely woman with a child of 2, and finally I was strongly in need of love and affection.

I invited him in my home. He didn't really talk, sparing his voice and anger.

He was tall, thin, with huge gloomy bleak eyes,  a sort of smart black eagle coming from nowhere. Never talked.

He was staring at me, wide-eyed, listening and kept silence all the time he stayed by me on this crucial afternoon.

We made love. This amazing shabby man fully enveloped me in blindness without a word.

He came back days later and began to be intrusive and aggressive when I told him I didn't want to have an affair with him.

I was feeling, he was taking control of my fear, my conscience. I was afraid about that.

He began to show a very bad attitude against me, screaming at me and insult me, 

but I didn't recognize anything in him that might be dangerous.

In my eyes, he was lost, fragile and needed help I was supposed to give to him generously.

He didn't know my world, he was not interested in, indifferent to my mind, my soul, my desire.

I was paralyzed, lost, blind in a deep shady dark.

I " felt  in love with him".

It was a conscious fall. I deliberately let me dawn.

He raised fears and hate.

I let him do what he wanted to do with me, which was a nuisance in his eyes.

I owed him my fault.

I choose him as a redemptor.

He killed me.

But I came back from death thank my Daughters.

Alice ODILON.

(If you recognize yourself, please consider the possibility that abuse may be taking place,

seek further information on domestic abuse and consider calling a helpline.)http://www.awhl.org/

Jane Doe 522 UFGA

 She might be my Mama.

I would have preferred to get her as a Mum, as mine was the opposite of jane DOE:

a predictable conventional  person in a  predictable well-ordered  life

with predictable behaviours and common thoughts, and with this addictive faith

in mortal fear about different unpredictable people.

I would love her so much. Because life would consist of the present, shared

into walking during days, listening birds and wolves, enjoying  a simple meal together,

taking care constantly about each other, fighting against the danger in order to stay together for ever.

Jane Doe. http://www.doenetwork.org

She would protect me along the road we walked on every day.

I would be afraid to sleep out in the open, in winter, when it's so dark and freezing,

but I would know she stayed with me, never gaving up. I would like this hell with her.

She would be here, tangible, real, in the now. Strong enough to make me forget fear and powerless.

"Jane DOE 156UFNV2"

But my Mum wasn't Jane Doe. She wouldn't be able to loose control, or reject protection of an agreed ordinary life.

Her lack of courage or curiosity motivated me to look behind the forbidden wall, to cross the line.

Oddly enough I kept going safe in this tortuous, border-line life.

And I have still  got a name for the moment.

Alice Odilon

la peau de l'Âne pour se déguiser et se cacher dans la forêt, abritée dans une ferme misérable.

{La fée marraine de l'enfant, va dissiper tout malentendu en apprenant à la princesse à ne plus confondre les amours :

on aime ses parents mais on ne les épouse pas !

{La salissure ressentie par l'enfant est ici matérialisée par la peau d'âne, vêtement répugnant

qu'elle choisit de porter et qui lui vaut son surnom – on ne connaît pas à cet égard son véritable prénom.

Par la suite, elle devient souillon et s'engage dans une ferme.} Wikipédia.
 

Comme dans Cendrillon, l'identité de la princesse sera révélée par une séance d'essayage :

celle d'une bague, convenant au doigt le plus fin (pantoufle de verre au pied le plus fin dans Cendrillon),

signe de jeunesse, de beauté et de pureté.

 
Peau d'Âne. Image issue du film de Jacques DEMY.

Grâce à cette sale peau,  la Princesse évite la mort symbolique de l'Inceste.

Cette peau est le "disembodiment", "the lack of the body", "the bodily self-model".

Cette peau empêche de penser et de sentir "à la première personne".

Grâce à la peau morte du X, l'anorexique évite la mort de l'indifférenciation fusionnelle avec la Mère,

avec le groupe familial enlisé dans la psychose de l'inommé, de l'interdit, de la honte.

Cette peau d'âme est "the disembodied soul", ou plus clairement le self-model

rayant  l'accès au corps vécu et vivant.

A l'origine la princesse anorexique était "une" avec ses émotions, ses actions, son language, son cerveau, son corps.

Elle ne s'était même  pas posé la question de sa division et de sa mort symbolique dans la scission du self et du corps.

Mais un jour est venu, où la petite princesse a vu son corps allié intime

(le Corps est le premier lieu des expériences de la vie, et donc des émotions),

être emparé, paré, figé, aligné  par le groupe social.

Elle a faillit en perdre son âme, tant l'emprise serrait fort.

Elle s'est donc contrainte à se déguiser d'une peau terrible issue de la mort, d'un non-retour,

la seule que la communauté a concédée à lui accorder.

Cette peau est la peau de la victime, du bouc émissaire, c'est une peau qui imite la Mort.

C'est la peau morte de l'Innocent bienfaiteur qui donnait tout en recevant rien,

sacrifié pour sa valeur inestimable.

"Méfie-toi, car c'est ce que tu as de meilleur".

Ainsi la Princesse peut échapper symboliquement au groupe hégémonique du même.

C'est cet objet transitionel issu d'un sacrifice accordé en guise de compensation envers l'anorexique,

qui sauvera la vraie peau de celle-ci.

Cette "peau de chagrin" joue le rôle de pare-feu entre l'anorexique et la loi hégémonique

du même exercé par le clan des pairs.

L'anorexique se rend souillon, abîmée, déguisée sous cette peau mâcabre.

Revêtir cette peau contraint la Princesse à taire son âme rebelle et étouffer son vrai corps sali dont elle a honte.

La Peau d'Âme enveloppe la princesse anorexique dans sa citadelle masquée.

C'est l'anorexie qui se joue alors avec un corps émacié, réduit à la membrane, un esprit vivant qui se tait

désormais pour ne plus dire que des choses raisonnées et non plus ressenties.

(logorrhée à défaut de ménorrhée).

La figure anorexique devient cet X limité, limitant du corps et de l'âme.

Ce qui reste de la Princesse est désormais couvert par la Peau d'anorexie-âme-âne.

C'est une peau d'écriture mais une peau qui interdit le contact direct avec les sens.

L'anorexique est alors au coeur de sa maladie extrême et le danger de mort est réel.

Deux issues sont possibles:

Soit la Princesse anorexique, ou l'anorexique princesse, parvient à se faire dispenser de la loi du même,

puis décide d'enlever sa dépouille pour vivre dans sa vraie peau, sa peau "propre", et là, elle

retrouve les deux parts d'elle même, son âme et son corps réunis dans une certaine harmonie

élaborée grâce à un travail de thérapie analytique et un travail de vécu personnel de la connaissance et des sentiments.

Soit elle devient Peau d'Âne et meurt dans cette peau de Mort.

Alice ODILON. Juillet  2009.

 
    
shouts
sulks
smashes things
glares
calls you names
makes you feel ugly and useless
cuts you off from your friends
stops you working
never admits he is wrong
blames you, drugs, drink, stress etc.
turns the children against you
uses the children to control you
never does his share of the housework
never looks after the children
expects sex on demand
controls the money
threatens or wheedles you to get his own way
seduces your friends/sister/anyone
expects you to be responsible for his well-being   

A non-abusive man …

 
is cheerful
consistent
supportive
tells you you look good
tells you you're competent
uses your name
trusts you
trusts your judgment
welcomes your friends and family
encourages you to be independent
supports your learning, career etc.
admits to being wrong
is a responsible parent
is an equal parent
does his share of the housework
accepts that you have a right to say "no" to sex
shares financial responsibility
takes responsibility for his own well-being and happiness