“Tell me about your childhood”, I recently learned two things about this question: one, it’s an interview question that almost for certain, guarantees a person will open up, and two, there is a school of thought that believes you learn everything you carry with you by the age of 7.
I hold a belief that in order to be a balanced individual one must spend time with their shadow side. In an effort to explore all parts of myself I’ve been digging through the memory banks of my mind for the earliest memories of my darkness, moments that have stuck with me and that I have been curious to explore further. In this article I will share two of those moments. To be honest, I’m not quite sure why I have decided to share this, but in an effort to document my thoughts on my site as a record of my time here, for myself and for the future archivists who may find this important, here are my stories.
1. Rage:
I only remember parts of this story that I can tie back to an actual memory I have. To fill those missing gaps I have asked my parents about it, but and they too have forgotten the events that lead up to this, so I don’t have a full picture of this account. But I will retell what I know. Sometime between the age of 3-7 I experienced rage. Rage, not a tantrum, not anger, the type of rage that makes one’s face go purple and made my parents fear I was going to pass out. Between the both of them they took me into the shower, fully clothed, and sprayed me with the coldest water the faucet would allow. This is where the memory of this event starts for me, getting sprayed by frigid water and feeling angry and unable to escape, I think my poor dad must have been holding me upright, getting soaked as well in the process. I also recall, as secondary feelings, being slightly disoriented and confused as to why I was being hosed down. As I look back on this scene it feels blurry, like I’m moving all over, almost like a stobelight effect.
The cold spray down served its purpose, I didn’t pass out. The moment that followed was a coming down from this emotion. I was wrapped in a towel, wet and crying, the type of crying where you can’t catch your breath and your body will occasionally remind you of your need for air by forcing quick painful breaths into your lungs. I was familiar with these types of cries as a kid, they typically came at the end of a moment of anger and frustration, I’d cry and cry and eventually fall asleep and wake up feeling better.
On a seperate day, maybe the following day, I had a conversation with my mom on why they had done this. She told me this is something they had seen / heard about growing up, kids falling into a state of deep anger, turning purple and passing out, they saw me reaching that point and decided to take this course of action to literally cool me down. It was years later that I understood the word for the emotion I had experienced was rage.
I wish I had more of this puzzle piece. I picture what this scene must have looked like. I remember the layout of our apartment, the bathtub shower, the uncomfortable feeling of my clothes, heavy, cold, wet fabric, sticking to my body, unable to escape it. I imagine I must have mentally blacked out at some point, and that it must have been concerning for my parents. I imagine I must have disregarded my need to breath, causing me to turn purple.
2. Sadism:
This one is much darker, because the actions I took caused me to feel relief and from that, satisfaction. Again, sometime between age 3-7 I had a doll. It was a small peach-toned life-size baby doll and it’s face was unpainted so one couldn’t tell if it’s eyes were open or closed because they were blank; a peach colored rubber-plastic molding of a face. It had a soft body made out of stuffed cloth but its limbs and head were that semi-hard plastic material dolls are made out of. It was clothed with a white one-piece that was sewn onto its body and a white bonnet. I had other dolls that I enjoyed playing with but this one pissed me off. Occasionally I would take this doll into a room, close and lock the door behind me, I knew what I was doing was bad, hence the secrecy. I would take that doll by the legs and with all my energy lift it over my head and hit it as hard as I could, several times over and over until I was satisfied. Sometimes the head would bend inwards and I would pop it back out before resuming to my normal activities. Which, as fucked up as that is, also makes me laugh as an adult rewatching that scene.
This one too is puzzling for me. My biggest questions are: where did all that energy come from, and why did I feel such deep hatred toward that doll?
I told this story recently in a conversation with a friend as we were getting into our respective childhoods. “Are you a jealous person?” Was the follow-up question. My response:“I’m territorial”. The question stemmed from the thought that mothers can sometimes feel jealousy toward their daughters, and whether I might have been channeling some version of that feeling as the doll’s “mother”. Until then, that possibility had never occurred to me. Maybe it could be part of the puzzle. I can’t recall feeling jealousy toward the doll, but I also can’t recall where that feeling came from. So as I continue to explore it, many possibilities are still open.
Currently, I am at 42° N latitude and we have just passed the Autumn Equinox. The daylight hours are diminishing, making way for longer periods spent in darkness. Maybe this is why I’ve begun to explore my own, like the plants and animals, I’ve begun channeling energy inward and towards my roots. This moment the season has created is the perfect backdrop, the perfect parallel, to set the scene for this period of exploration. I hope that it leads to fruitful discoveries.
Paintings by Swiss contemporary artist:
Miriam Cahn (b. 1949)
highly reccomend you read her writing posts on her site in the link below:
Paintings from top to bottom:
Das Schöne Blau (The Beautiful Blue), 2008–17, Oil paint on canvas, 1905 × 1950 mm, Purchased with funds provided by the Europe Research Fund and the 20th Century Avant-Garde Collection Fund 2021 Collection: Tate, London (Reference: T15643)
Rennen (Running), Oil paint on canvas, 1200 × 660 mm, Courtesy of Galerie Jocelyn Wolff
Im Dunkeln (In the Dark), 2019, Oil paint on canvas, 1800 × 1400 mm, (70 × 55 in.) Courtesy of Galerie Jocelyn Wolff
Soldat (Soldier), 1997, Oil paint on canvas, 300 × 220 mm, Exhibited as part of Soul Mapping at Zeno X Gallery in Antwerp
Sans titre (Gesicht) (Untitled (Face)), Oil paint on canvas, 386 × 265 mm (15 1/4 × 10 3/8 in.) Originally from the collection of Galerie Stampa in Basel later sold via via Christie's.
Angebot (Offer), 2009, Oil paint on canvas mounted on wood, 483 × 298 mm (19 × 11 ¾ in.) Originally from the collection of Galerie Jocelyn Wolff in Paris, later sold via Sotheby’s
Ereignis (Event), 2006–2007, Oil paint on canvas, 499 × 851 mm (19 5/8 × 33 1/2 in.), Sold via MutualArt /Auction Records
Rennen (Running), 2013, Oil paint on canvas, 2800 × 2000 mm, Courtesy of Miriam Cahn, Galerie Jocelyn Wolff, and Meyer Riegger.
O.t. (無題) (Untitled), 2017, Pastel and charcoal on paper, 856 × 581 mm (935 × 652 mm framed), Originally exhibited in the landschaftlich series, courtesy of WAKO WORKS OF ART (Tokyo). Private Collection.
O.t. (Untitled), Oil paint on canvas, 450 × 350 mm (17 3/4 × 13 3/4 in.), Featured in the catalog Gezeichnet (Mousse Publishing, 2023). Courtesy of Galerie Jocelyn Wolff and Meyer Riegger.
as dark or light as you can imagine and further beyond that,
the reality is that it’s not you, them or me,
it has always been just one
A Coruña Spain, August 12, 2026, a picture of the Sun about 20 minutes before the total solar eclipse
Screenshot of my video from the 2026 Total Solar Eclipse in Spain, we watched it near the Petroglifos de Punta Herminia in A Coruña, the Torre de Hércules can be seen in the background