Jana Köhler
1987, Germany

I PLANTED A SEED and waited. After a while grass is growing on my shoulders. I have a small blue watering can and pour it every day. Unbelievable how such power can arise from small grains. Some stalks now tickle my ears. It feels funny and reminds me of summer picnics in my childhood. The stalks are unstoppable, climbing up my ears reaching my eyes. They lie on my eyelids. I don’t see anything anymore. It feels good, I’m sleeping. My dreams are about picnics and hot sun, watermelons, and cold water.

When I wake up, my head is pounding. The grass wraps around my neck like a rope. I gasp. I fumble around blindly, stagger into the kitchen. I reach into the drawer for something sharp. I cut close to my neck, cut through the green. I can Breathe and a cut later see. Viscous green stains my hands, runs down on me to the tiles. The green is everywhere, just not soft and strong anymore. I feel guilty. I started this and I am so sorry.

This is a portrait of my personal climate change. It is about changing the view and still sticking to my habits, understanding, and closing my eyes at the same time. How can I live, how can I travel, how can I be and still be aware of my responsibility?

ISTUTIN SIEMENEN ja odotin. Hetken kuluttua ruoho kasvaa olkapäilläni. Kastelen sitä päivittäin pienellä sinisellä kastelukannullani. On uskomatonta, millainen voima voi kohota pienistä jyväsistä. Ruohonkorret kutittelevat jo korviani. Hauska tunne tuo mieleen lapsuuskesien eväsretket. Ne kiipeävät ponnekkaasti korvia pitkin silmiin saakka ja asettuvat luomilleni. En näe enää mitään. Tuntuu hyvältä, nukahdan. Näen unia eväsretkistä, auringon paahteesta, vesimeloneista ja raikkaasta vedestä.

When I woke up, I nodded. The grass is entwined around my neck like a rope. I breathe my life. I sip blindly here and there, sipping in the kitchen. I aim for something sharp out of the desk drawer, take it around my neck, and slice green. I can breathe again, and after the second incision I will see. Some green sticky stains my hand and spills me along the floor. Greenery is spreading everywhere, but now powerless. I feel guilty. I got this time, I’m sorry.

This is a description of my personal climate change. Changing perspective, still hanging in the old ways. About understanding and closing our eyes at the same time. How can I live, travel and be – while realizing my own responsibility?