#kalicka

PROJECT: SELF-PORTRAIT by IRENA KALICKA

(…) You can buy a pig head in a meat processing plant. It’s enough to order it the day before. But I don’t expect it to be in two parts. What’s more, I don’t expect them to be the parts of two different pigs. One smaller and one bigger. It can be sewn up. Two left ones would make it more difficult. In general, it seems rather small – the head, I mean. Well, I’ve always thought that a pig has an enormous head. I don’t know how I’ll take this stuff out of it; and even if, it is still too small to fit my head; it will have to be fixed somehow. Sew it up, fix it, hollow out. I can’t do such things, I’m calling Marta. Marta comes together with Mateusz, us three will do it faster and still make it to the party at Misiaks’. It’s cold at home, and I stoke the fire to make it a nicer place to work in. I haven’t got a sharp knife, there is nothing to cut with, even a pork chop, I find old scissors for paper. It’s hard to skin the head with them, there are a few holes made in it now; it’s ok, I can’t help it. I shouldn’t have made it so warm in here – the pig starts smelling worse and worse. Mateusz suggests sprinkling it with salt, and it will stop. But the salt makes the head wet, and it’s harder to sew. Its skin is thick and you need to make holes with a hammer and nails. It goes smoothly even though the salt keeps stinging my fingers. We stuff this pigskin bag with some old cloths, and it gets some shape. Now Marta is going to attach a pair of cloth strings to it, I’ll be able to tie it onto my head. Mateusz fries pig cheeks with some onion, I don’t even want to try them, somehow I’ve lost my appetite.

(…) The smell is unbearable. I won’t put it on my face, or else I’ll vomit. Karolina wraps a bandage around my head.(…) I put my mask on. Marta leads me to the place. I can’t breathe. I know, I must stand it. I want to make up a funny gesture; I never pose for photos; it’s safer on the other side. The girls say that it’s getting dark. I explain to them how to use a light meter. I can’t hear anything from beneath the mask. They laugh and keep mocking me. I’m the funniest, and the most bigheaded pig in the world. I remember such a drawing by Paul Klee: ‘She is crying, and we are having fun.’ Can anyone take it off my face?