Jeremi Biziuk, "kitarumo"
-Catching Wind (2023)
-I'm gonna stay here for a while, so let's have some tea while we have time (2022)
-Leszy and Zmora (2023)
-A Pink Room for a Pink Dog (2021)
-Czort and Gusle (2023)
Reminiscing over many fantastical stories I've been told by my parents and books as a child, a longing for a kind of alluring story resurfaced. From that, a tale of a Boy who went catching Wind came to be. First not as a written text, but as a process of creating it in a tactile and physical manner.

Thus an installation of four ceramic pieces made audible via audio exciters and an accompanying silent video was born. Said vessels revibrate the sound of the Wind which was caught through a microphone which was placed inside them. Initially playing the raw audio without any enhancement, the modulation occurs as the ceramic pieces serve the purpose of membrames, altering the sound through their material properties.
The video itself is a documentation of my stroll around the nearby dunes "catching" said Wind. Dressed in an early iteration of one of my costumes, I perform the simple act of reenacting the happenings in my short story.
By letting my feet on the cold soil I can feel what the Boy must have felt, by trying to accomplish what he sought I can feel his excitement to what the fruits of his work will turn out to be.
And the story goes;
"The boy would go play in to the Woods, the same one every day.

They were where he found the most beauty in the songs
Which the Wind would play for him.

He would scavenge the hills, walk their every path,
All the while listening to the tunes from all around

The leaves that rustled,

The grass that fizzled,

The trees and branches that moved and whistled.

He couldn’t comprehend its reason or intent,
but the Wind played along for the boy’s wishes.

And when he went home, he felt utterly alone.

His house was far from the Woods,
and silence surrounded it,

Every day,
All through the night,
As the light would eventually hide.

In the darkness of each night, when sleep couldn’t get hold of him,
He would go towards the porch, trying to catch what little sound he could.
He sewed them by hand, and listened to the empty skies.

The next day, he went by the Woods, and once he arrived, he pulled out the bags.

He ran through the trees and the tall green grass,
His hands clutching the fabric he had sewn.
The bags filled up with the Wind that the boy caught.
Once they were full, the harvest was done.

With hands full of air, the boy went his way,
Carrying the bags away.

Towards a feast that awaited him that night.

When the sun grew shy, the usual ordeal began.
The boy made his way, through the dark, to the porch.

He opened the doors but his hands were full.
He carried the bags through the door and sat down,
He opened them slightly, one by one.
And as the vessels opened, the boy’s ear came close.

He would listen to the Wind he caught, while looking at trees which stayed still.

An eerie night which continued into each day."
One day, on one of these sleepless nights,

He sewed a few bags

With a fabric so tight that even light

Could not escape.
Photos by: Mina Yaa (2023)