I didn‘t say anything. (Ich habe nichts gesagt.), 2011

Performance, 1 x 8min

Ida Nowhere, Berlin (D)

I didn‘t say anything is the life story of a friend who has experienced 15 years of mental, physical and sexual violence by their parents–fragments of a traumatized self, of a strong, life-affirming woman.

In the piece is a division into different identities–the tormented and the being tormented. I didn‘t say anything asks to have a talk, to talk about the secrets, to talk about the self, to talk about abuse which can be so subtle and can vary.

I didn't say anything.

This is Sid, Sid is an animated figure from the movie ”Toy Story”. ”Toy Story” was the first long duration animated movie, which was screened in the theaters for the first time in 1996. Sid‘s trademark is braces and a white skull on the front of his t-shirt. Sid is the antagonist of Andy.

Sid loves to torture and torment his toys.

Then he took my head. He pushed it under water. Then again he took me by the hair and pulled it out of the water. He says: ”Did you get it?”

He says: ”You decide: Either you, then your sister and then your mother or your mother, then your sister and you.”

He fell out of the tree and was dead.
Did he fall out of the tree because he was dead?

I didn't say anything.

I had my first time with four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, ...

The audience sees me standing in front of a parapet, holding myself tightly and looking into the depth of the stairway. In the depth a smiley-face balloon filled with helium towers from the ground into the air. After a while, I say: ”I didn‘t say anything.” I look up, take a flashlight and light up the toy figure ”Sid” (”Toy Story”), hanging by a thread, so that a large shadow on the wall arises. I recount the horrible torments that Sid commits in ”Toy Story” to his fellow toys. Then I let the character go, look inward while the thread dangles back and forth.

I turn off the flashlight.

I‘m watching the audience and slowly begin to talk about my own abuse (as a substitute). The words are cryptic, represent me as victim and perpetrator at the same time. At the end, I say: ”I had my first time with four, five, six, seven…”. I slowly go counting along the parapet, go down the stairs and take the smiley-face balloon in hand. I vanish, counting as I move behind a door.