Marissa and Merete meet at Gorilla Coffee to talk.
Merete: I've been thinking a lot about the idea of multiplicity in storytelling and whether it's possible to create a narrative. It's this kind of tension in creating a narrative where someone feels guided through and safe enough that they'll give themselves over, and suspend disbelief and live in the world. But also if it's possible to tell a story in a way that someone is just immersed in the possibility of the environment and not feeling there is only one outcome or one narrative. And it's really hard to do that.
Marissa: The fact that the memory of the place is no longer the same, you know?
Merete: And also how the memories that you have of that place are probably associated with a very specific point in time in your life and nostalgia and whatever emotions are associated with those, go hand-in-hand with stuff that isn't about the physical location, but also about the mental map of where you were, whether or not you're relieved to not be there anymore or whether you wish you could get parts of it back.
Marissa: And I thought it was fascinating in the text when they said that forgetting is a process. I think about that a lot. I hold onto certain memories as if they're these photographs in time. But then what happened to all the parts that aren't a part of that photographic series? What process did it take for me to forget that part of my life? And they're so many of them because our lives are so dynamic and full we can't hold onto everything. And then, it's like, maybe you can't visually remember something until you are triggered and then that photograph comes up, so I'm curious about the process of forgetting.
Merete: I actually think line breaks have a lot to do with the suspension of disbelief, or my willingness to say, "OK, this doesn't have to be cohesive." But also, because each point she puts me - every time she lands me somewhere, it's so submersive. Immediately. For me, her writing is very tactile and relateable. So it's not like she's putting me somewhere and it's too conceptual or I don't have anything to orient myself against. Her writing is so sensual and based on physical experience, that I don't mind having to land when I land
The rhizome is altogether different: a map and not a tracing. Make a map not a tracing. The orchid does not reproduce the tracing of the wasp; it forms a map with the wasp in a rhizome. What distinguishes the map from the tracing is that it is entirely oriented toward an experimentation and contact with the real. The map does not reproduce an unconscious closed in upon itself: it constructs the unconscious. It fosters connections between fields, the removal of blockages on bodies without organs, the maximum opening of bodies without organs onto a plane of consistency, it is its own part of the rhizome. The map is open and connectable in all of its dimensions. It is detachable, reversible, susceptible, and in constant obfuscation. It can be torn, reversed, adapted to any kind of mountain, reworked by an individual group or social formation. It can be drawn on a wall conceived of a work of art, constructed as a political action or as meditation.