photo and personal essay: katalin pusztaszeri
the visionary
At the end they will finally push me out in a wheelchair to the light as a mental and physical wreck, jaded and shrunken by the five/four possible outcomes of this happy-go-lucky Covid-19 survivor show.
This escape from the yellow mole-hole would not happen with same the glory of hope we could see on the forehead of a mask-faced shaky handed bradykinetic 96-year old WWII veteran who finally gets his jab against Covid-19 live on CNN, the grateful moment he haltingly thanks the gift to the caregiver nation and to the favor of God.
Not with the same Apotheosis when Stephen Hawking got the prize in fundamental physics...when a fully stuffed auditorium was tensely waiting in pure silence for a cheek- movement generated computer speech to express his humble gratitude to the world by accepting a lifelong research on the theory of black holes and Big Bang.
Not with the same luxury and glam when Cleopatra Liz Taylor rolled on her motorized throne to Ritz Charlton, Las Vegas decking out in white miniver fur and silk petticoat, carrying a baby-head sized diamond necklace, despite of her serious disability, by flashing that wide Joker-smirk on her face.
I did not survive war and killed for command. I had not been wounded in fight against Nazis.
But I am an unfortunate witness of the raising of the Filthiest Post-Communist Regime in my home country. I wish a peaceful change and an immediate deliberation of the nation.
I don't have irreversible ALS and I know nothing about quantum gravity and cosmological inflation, I did not contribute valuable thoughts to humanity.
But I have an irreparable injury on my spinal cord... and I know gravity! in a pool could help me in meditation and handling everyday pain. I am unable to float anymore...But I have pen and camera in my hands, tools of expression and relief, in case of thunderclap or other horror would hit my life.
I did not get a seven million dollar contract for a single role or being in a shiny vague tunnel, lived through a near-death experience four times on a gurney.
I am not playing roles neither in stage nor in life. I had seen the harsh lights of medical lamps at the ICU during my operation, but the lurking tunnel scene hasn't come ever.
I did not acquire such qualities in life but similar to these personalities, I can call myself a survivor, and yet a massive survivor of our present.
However I don't have God's ray of light on my forehead.
I have been wearing bloody crown of thorns since the age of 30.
I haven't had that radiating brainwave in my mind like Hawking had had in the 70's, when his basic theory was born on which he puzzled out the possible mechanism of the whole universe.
I have a voluntary Tourette-syndrome with aggressive and disrespectful afternoon burst-outs due to painkiller-withdrawals. That's not a wave it is better...a flow.
I don't have glossy diamond on my cleavage, and the Joker-smirk on my face.
Instead I have a hook on my neck and I am wearing a cherry lipsticked Travesty pic of our prime minister in full mascara and dabbed blue eyeshadow on my T-shirt. For protesting.
I am Traumatized.
Angry.
and Disappointed.
So the move they will take me to light in that wheelchair...it would not be as noteworthy as the attendance of an old hero on TV, it would not be as significant than Hawking last public speech in front of scientific audience and it would not be that majestic or eye-catching as Liz Taylor's furry appearance at a gala show. It would rather be a simply dread- and woeful scenery as the young, once strong and tenacious woman- wreck is sitting in that adult stroller with thinned feeble legs and mummified grimace on her cheek...twinkling uncertainty into the blinding sunlight. We could feel shame and humiliation for the reason I would not need to further explain. Seeing that deteriorating health condition...at this young age witnessing that harrowing vulnerability of this human being. What are the chances in real life that this seemingly irreversible situation could be turned in reverse?
In fiction or film everything is possible...I can put that 'stand up and move' Hollywood cliché into the plot to end my story differently...I could change the scenery in minutes, but the chance that the main character will stand up and walk away or push that body-prison-trolley into the river is very low.
Could I give hope to my own character?
Does life offer me a second chance?
I am doubtful...
about the writer and artist: katalin pusztaszeri
Katalin Pusztaszeri is an art professional and photographer living in Budapest, Hungary. She started taking photographs in 2013, as a part of her recovery from a spinal cord surgery. In the beginning, she used photography as neuro-feedback to alter her attention from pain and anxiety. She realized that by means of creation, she has been able to release all of the suppressed and latent feelings she felt were clogged in her body throughout the years. At this point, creating pictures has become an urgent and utmost need to convey her thoughts and ideas toward the outside world.
