Early in the morning one day, a text message from my brother: "C. has died today." C. is my -- our father, the man with whom I had at best a fractured relationship. Out of a sense of obligation and a curiosity that I am unable to place I decide to travel to the funeral. The trip takes me back to the German city I grew up in, a place I had not visited in 25 years because I did not want to see it. I did not want to see him.
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Wilhelmshaven feels defeated, a defeat the first foretaste of which I had experienced while I still lived there. With time, the defeat appears to have become etched deeper and deeper into the city’s fabric.
There are a few locations that I had imagined I would re-visit when I had fantasized about going back, locations that had played a role during the first twenty years of my life. Mostly, I had been wondering what being there might feel like. What would I feel when standing in front of the apartment building my grandmother had lived in? When seeing my old high school again?
After the memorial, a number of people approach me, all of them uttering a variation of do you remember me? A wave of exhaustion washes over me. I am, after all, jet lagged, and the combination of the walking and of throwing myself into a situation I would rather not have thrown myself into is getting to me. I am grateful for the kindness I detect behind people’s smiles. No, I have to tell all of them, I do not recognize you. I remember names. But after the forty years that have passed since I last saw most of these people, there is no recognition. I feel bad about this fact while struggling to express it. I have been gone for such a long time, I want to say, can you forgive me for not knowing who you are?
This place, I realize, had been a part of my life. But the connection has been severed without me realizing it. The city of my birth and upbringing has been transformed into a city that I observe as an outsider with insider knowledge. The longer I walk, the more elated I become: it is as if I have been freed from a burden that I had been carrying. I did not know that I had left for good until I had to come back.
Walking around and feeling nothing while re-encountering old and changed locales has me realize that I wasn’t really thinking about coming back to this place. I was thinking about something different. But that door has now been closed. Forever.
After the funeral, my brother and I go through some of the materials left behind. There is a red cardboard box filled with old family documents. My brother has no interest in them. I take a few items, including the photographs of the grandfather -- C.'s father -- who ran away. I look like that grandfather.
I'm imagining that at some stage, someone will go through what I leave behind. They might find this following folder. It contains photographs from the city I grew up in and thoughts I wrote down during my trip there and after.
Complicated Feelings, the publication, is a folder containing 25 loose prints and 12 sheets of text (both printed in my studio on Xerox Bold Digital paper [120 g/m^2]; the sheets are standard US letter size 8.5x11 inches or 216x279 mm). Each folder is hand-made and unique. There is no sequence to either the text or the photographs; each copy comes with its own, random order. Some of the text sheets contain handwritten additions and/or corrections.
You can obtain a copy for US$40 (shipping is not included). If you are interested, please email me at jmcolberg at gmail.com.
The fine print (please read before ordering): Each copy comes with minor and deliberate imperfections. On some days, my handwriting is better than on others. On some days, I might decide to edit the printed text more than on others. When I run out of folders and re-order new ones, I might pick a different colour. While you could view Complicated Feelings as a piece of art, it is not intended to look and feel extremely precious. There is no edition to this publication. Each copy will be printed and produced as an order comes in.
There is another version of Complicated Feelings. In addition to the folder with 25 loose prints and 12 sheets of text (both printed in my studio on Xerox Bold Digital paper [120 g/m^2]; the sheets are standard US letter size 8.5x11 inches or 216x279 mm), and the handwritten additions and/or corrections it comes with four prints. These prints are printed on Epson Premium Presentation Paper MATTE (165 g/m^2). Each print is signed. Note that this paper has a warmer tone than the Xerox one.
You can obtain a copy for US$80 (it's an added US$10 per print; shipping is not included). If you are interested, please email me at jmcolberg at gmail.com.
The fine print (same as above, but just in case: please read before ordering): Each copy comes with minor and deliberate imperfections. On some days, my handwriting is better than on others. On some days, I might decide to edit the printed text more than on others. When I run out of folders and re-order new ones, I might pick a different colour. While you could view Complicated Feelings as a piece of art, the folder is not intended to look and feel extremely precious (unlike the extra prints). Each copy will be printed and produced as an order comes in.