Tribar

By Andra Rotaru

Translated from Romanian by Anca Roncea, Tribar starts from the geometrical concept of an impossible triangle whose three sides do not connect but still exist in the form of a triangle, creating a direction for movement. Andra Rotaru's poetic work has developed from some of her encounters with modern dance choreography: her poems simultaneously mimic and track the body in motion. Her “connections” become joints or articulated bones that work together to carry the body along. This translation recreates this embodiment in English by focusing on the minute details of movement and sound in Andra's language and on the “kinetic air” of Romanian. Poet Sawako Nakayasu describes Tribar as scenes that "carry you through a changing landscape that can be menacing, historical, scientific, or downright violent—all in torqued connection with each other like the “incorrect connections” of the tribar." Romanian literary critic Ioana Bo?tenaru describes this book as "a choreography of visions, impregnated with explanations, definitions and confessions, at the end of which the instance, which found relief in the smell of milk on its knees, manages to emerge from the wound, rediscovering self-joy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Saturnalia Books
• Release date: Mar 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781947817418

Book preview

I

wrong connections

In the British Journal of Psychology, R. Penrose published the impossible tribar. Penrose called it a three-dimensional rectangular structure. But it is certainly not the projection of an intact spatial structure. The impossible tribar holds together as a drawing purely and simply by means of incorrect connections between quite normal elements. The three right angles are completely normal, but they have been joined together in a false, spatially impossible way."—The Magic Mirror of M. C. Escher, Bruno Ernst

We paint a realist portrait of the person next to us or draw an overview of their past. We can observe the either limited or prodigious functioning of their sensory organs. Eyes, mouth, skin—gather information about the outside world that the brain can process and then decide how to proceed. Some species survive through their senses (dogs through smell, bats through hearing).

Approximately 80% of what the human brain processes is out of seen things. Let’s watch the various stages:

1920: approximating the grandmother

she sits on a tuft of grass: drying under her. even her clothes dry on her. make some wishes when you throw something in the water. rust solders iron under water, no one passes, sounds of bursts of water.

membranes in every organ break the ones close. packs of wild creatures break the dawn. the smell of dry skin and water tossing.

water thumping. they stretch out their claws and grab organisms leaping out. mill blades turn. the axis spreads the motion. the constant supply in the upper part of the mill. bellow flour and bran.

kinetic air, mechanical air. the energy of an old woman at the edge of water.

crack. when hair hits hair

in the 1940 photograph, the woman had a stroller next to her. in it, a little girl held a wooden horse. its mane of 3.172 coarse hairs. every time the saddle rocked, a hair cracked.

the photograph was taken when the mane was certain to calm down the infant. otherwise the little girl would suck on her nails until crack. they’d form a ditch rising in the middle, and the corneous formation would remain so forever. her fingers would end in ingrown claws, unnecessary deformities.

gnash. when dentine gives

when her first teeth came out, the woman soothed her gums with alcohol-infused cotton balls. the child let out a shrill cry, her gums swelled and the redness from the alcohol resembled necrosis. when she put ice in a gauze pouch on the outer cheek, the pain became bearable. a twinge went across/through her body. she clenched her teeth so hard, the pressure of the upper teeth on the lower escaped in a snap, the imminent corrosion of enamel.

blink. the unpredictability of a figure turned asymmetrical

the axis on which 2 eyes can seem symmetrical either close up or far away is perturbed. when palms clap, out of fear the little girl closes her eyelids. it happens so fast, not even dolls with plastic eyes can imitate her. she often presses her eyelids until they become purple. someone’s mere gaze becomes painful, causes her spasms. these muscles pulled at from every side make the eyes twitch a few seconds.

gnaw. a child’s fingers

soft pink tissue macerated inside the mouth. lips stick to the bony surface of the phalanges, she savors the tough protein material, the appendix of