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Today, 13th of August is (was) the birthday of my husband, Philip Mechanicus. He was a great photographer, but also a remarkable columnist. He left us already 14 years ago, but today for the first time our daughter Kiriko Mechanicus has translated his column into English.
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''Enough Content'' Philip Mechanicus （translation Kirko Mechanicus)
25 March 2005 – nr 12 Groene Amsterdammer
A moment in which you realize that the world is way more indescribable than you could have ever imagined: it happened to me 25 years ago. It was when writer Theun de Vries, who has recently passed away, read me Frisian translations of the poems of Rainer Maria Rilke. I just hadn’t thought of the idea that something like that could exist.
A different, yet similar, incident presented itself two years ago. It was the first time that I saw a wild dog. Actually, twenty wild dogs. They were standing behind strong thick mesh in the Zoo of Artis. They are sensational animals, sleeping and playing around as if there was nothing else they would rather do. Strong and active in their appearance, wearing the most stunning and dramatic, spotted fur that one can think of. A hundred years ago, there must have existed a fur coat made of this pelt, which without a doubt would still be worth more than a hundred thousand dollars. Without regard to the pelt, the most impressive thing about these animals was their smell.
What one would normally consider as a smelly odour, was of a hellish aesthetic when it came to these animals. An extraordinary aroma, so potent, that it would spiral itself into every small corner. Numbing, and hypnotizing.
Along with this story, there is one memory from a long time ago that cannot be forgotten.
I was about 8 years old. We were peeing against a wall that was still standing from the war. The pee was serenely clattering against the brick stones. Halfway through, my friend turned himself 90 degrees towards me, and unexpectedly drenched me in his piss, from top to toe. I was bewildered.
In shock, I wasn’t able to react to this unforeseen deed, so there was nothing else left to do other than run back home in tears.
*Original text De Groene Amsterdammer
www.groene.nl/artikel/stof-genoeg--8?fbclid=IwAR2B69HO2Jhn0gf0NggCAiAaluLOj2fFCfkjT2JML58Sl1PptEI...
