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After the Journey
March 30th, 1988 — Day 1 (Anxious)
After 8 years we finally started this journey. After all the difficulties, arguments, and challenges, what began as a representation of the start of our lives together now symbolizes our separation.
Day 14 (Nostalgic)
As I walk towards you, I feel further and further away from you. I wonder if you feel the same way.
I sit here in my old camping chair and remember that restaurant where we drank the best sangria of our lives and celebrated cheerfully, even though the meal wasn’t that great. Why did we go there specifically? I think it was because you insisted on visiting one of the oldest restaurants in Venice. I still have the list, we playfully decided on the dishes before entering the restaurant, in hopes to recreate our first date in the best way possible (even though the cuisine is completely different from Amsterdam).
- The Shell Fish — that was delightful
- Spaghetti Scogliera Style
- Risotto Burano Style
- Grilled Sea Bass
- Baked Turbot
In the end, we were so full that we gave our cake to the homeless man who lived next to our hotel and had that dog who you said looked exactly like yours at your parents’ home.
Day 29 (Perplexed)
These last few days have made me realize how ironic it is that we spent our entire relationship acting out our love and the biggest play was this: our break-up.
Day 37 (Frustrated)
What’s the point of all this? Isn’t this psychological torment, weren’t we forced to go through enough? People have called us crazy many times in the past, but this is the time I really start believing them.
Day 42 (Comfort)
We’re almost halfway through the trip and the glow of night illuminates my notebook as I pour my feelings onto this sheet… These moments alone at these hours are when I can really appreciate the beauty of this journey — no workers, translators, or journalists all up in my space; no tourists wondering what our crew is doing. Just me and the stars. And some way, I feel you looking up as well.
Day 50 (Confused)
These days seem to have no end. I found out today that I will be responsible for bringing another life to this world. After all, this journey doesn’t just mark the end of something, but the beginning of a life… Once again, I recognize the melodramatic irony of this situation, but we are artists, so this is our way of living, I guess.
Day 52 (Thinking)
To be an artist is to face difficulties with a heavy heart, but with eyes that find inspiration” — Mother
I remember this phrase every day. My mother used to say it to me when I was packing for another one of my adventures and felling anxious and nervous. How innocent I was, my perception of what art is and who creates it…
When I told you this saying you laughed: “I see where you get your flair for the dramatic, my little poet”.
Day 63 (Nostalgic)
Today I thought about what, in my opinion, was one of our most disruptive and challenging pieces. Perhaps the one in which we needed to place the most trust in each other. Even though you seemed calm, I could hear your heart was beating faster than mine, representing your lack of trust in me. But it was your idea, to be the target of danger. Why did we always take such a big risk or went on a rabbit hole of concepts just to represent love, when there are simpler ways of showing it?
Day 70 (Agitated)
Only 20 days until I see you again, after all these years. The symptoms of pregnancy are increasingly present and with it the growing anxiety of parenthood creates questions in my mind.
What have I done?
How will you react?
How am I going to react?
Something I’ve always appreciated about our relationship, despite all the tribulations, is the mutual understanding between us, the complicity. Amid all the complexities of our work, you’ve always acknowledged and accepted me. Will you understand me now?
Day 74 (Insomnia)
Once again, the moon is keeping me company tonight, when my thoughts are way too heavy to let me rest. Sometimes it seems that the moon is so intense that it wants to absorb me, I wonder if it’s the strength of your anger that feeds it.
Day 79 (Recall)
12 years. 12 years that I’ve shared a life with you. It almost feels like this journey has lasted 12 years too. I can no longer tell what day it is, my companions hardly speak our language and I can tell they’ve had enough of accompanying me on this journey.
Remember my Citroen van when we first met? Now THAT was the way to travel. I keep a Polaroid from those days in my wallet:
How young we were, my dear Marina. I wish I could go back and smell that van one more time, start it again and drive into a beach so we can look at the ocean together while discussing all the installations we dreamed to make, all the possibilities of confronting and shocking society, together, as one.
Day 88
I’m coming, I can’t wait. All my anxiety and fear that you’ll know the truth are now replaced by the joy of seeing your face again and feeling your embrace.
I miss the intensity of your gaze, weighing on all my consciences and ramblings…
Day 90 (EXCITMENT)
IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY.
Day 97 (Mixed)
I just got home. The whole way back you couldn’t even look at me. I feel a mixture of feelings that I can’t even express. I’ll keep writing on this journal, hoping that one day you’ll read this and understand me a little bit better. For some reason, I have a feeling we’ll meet again, so I’ll keep this diary so that, in some way, I can still feel I can talk to you.
Day 8030 (MoMa)
Today I summed up all the courage I had inside and came to MoMa to see you. I admit I felt jealous that you were doing the show without me, your career moving forward without my presence. As I walked in, I could feel the anger rising to my face — but it was enough to look at you, calm and serene, that all my emotions were flooded with pride and joy of seeing you, older, more mature, more sure of yourself.
I hope that one day you’ll be able to read this diary and realize how much I loved you — despite all my little perks and tribulations.
Day 11 680 (Clarity) — Marina, 2020
After you died, Ulay, I received a truck with all your things, and I didn’t have the courage to open it until three months after. When I opened the first box, this diary fell on me.
Next month it will be 32 years since we said goodbye on the wall and reading this notebook, I feel like I’m reliving every moment — this time in your shoes, instead of mine. As you said, reading this I can understand some things, but I confess not everything.
I spent many years in anguish, thinking that I wasted too much time with you, believing in your ways of living, some of your lies. But today, I know that these experiences were necessary for me to end up where I am now. I don’t regret it for a single moment, for it was you that also gave me the support to plunge in all the craziness.
Reading this I think of Balance Proof. I’m no longer able to see you, to touch you. The only thing that connects us is this diary, exactly like a mirror, in our way. In 1977 it was you that had to balance the mirror when I left— now, I’ll have to balance life without you, but I have this diary to help me keep me upright.
I think you’d laugh to see the box and what I’ve decided to keep of our memories:
- The necklace you were wearing when I met you;
- A Polaroid from the Great Wall trip;
- The arrow from the bow and arrow;
- A ticket for the canal trip we took in Amsterdam, our first trip together.
But of everything, everything we’ve lived through and created, it’s the legacy we’ve left behind that I’m most proud of. Like I said the last time we saw each other in 2017 at that exhibition in Denmark:
“I think what is left is this really beautiful work that we left behind. And this is what matters.”
