Support for runaway persons, abused women, anorexic women
In her book “The Missing person guide to love”, Susanna Jones described with talent, the soul of a missing person. Astonishing.
“Portrait of Cynthia Feliks, the One rejecting rescue”. Alice Odilon. Copyrights. 2009
Portrait of Patricia Johnson: Missing person from Vancouver Downtown. Alice Odilon. Copyrights 2009.
Susanna Jones excels to describe the loneliness of a runaway person.
Alice Odilon. 8/08/2011
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.
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”.
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 of 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 have liked 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
Her life is Art and research about Anorexia.
Works for International Press and exhibits around the world. [Read More …]
antablog.com Antablog feed“Nade dans la Chambre Jaune.” 2011. Copyright Alice Odilon. Dans la chambre jaune Nade s’est enfermée depuis hier soir. La jeune femme se hisse dans l’espace clos dont la paroi mal éclairée cache des objets soustraits à la vue, des boîtes à chaussures vides, un butin. L’alcôve d’un boudoir, la lumière rouge et blanche, des [...]
“Portrait de Nade”. Copyrights Alice Odilon 2012. All rights reserved. L’histoire commence avec son visage enregistré régulièrement par les CCTV. Nade avance dans la lumière des néons, offerte aux écrans de sécurité. Sa peau exacerbe la luminance des effets de blancs. La regarder c’est la toucher, tant le voile de son épiderme se fond [...]
“Marbre de Veines”. Décembre 2011. Copyrights Alice Odilon Prélude Les martinets de soie noire l’avaient dressée dans l’enfance, à l’absolu. Tandis que sa mère réduisait la vie, sans se rendre compte de ce qui lui arrivait. Ils revenaient comme une naissance; les cris sifflaient dans l’espace, sillonnaient les cours d’immeubles en ville. Les beaux [...]
“The red mask”. 2011. Copyrights Alice Odilon. Wikio Wikio
“Lisbone, the anorexic Doll, in the light of truth”. Alice Odilon Copyrights. Dec 2011. All rights reserved. Wikio Wikio
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