Notion of tastelessness
François Jullien quotes: ‚To strive to achieve extraordinary
things, so that following generations will have something of me to
talk about, this I will avoid by all means.‘
Don’t wonder which direction the wind is coming from. Its impact
is not utterable in its singularity. The same applies for the quality
of taste. It is not a mere condition, rather it is an unfolding,
whereas greatest presence derives from greatest restraint.
The cucumber which is sometimes eaten between the dishes to
neutralize your taste is comparable to a pause which holds the
promise of duration and continuity. It meets the mouth in transparent
silence. On the ‚island of the hundred-years-old’ people love to
eat a specific cucumber which is called Goya. It is 20–30 cm
long, oblong with bluntly tapering ends and pale green in color, with
a gently undulating, warty surface. The cucumber more typical of
India has a narrower shape with pointed ends, and a surface covered
with jagged, triangular teeth. It is green to white in color. Between
these two extremes are any number of intermediate forms.
In slight amazement I think of the cucumber’s skin, a vessel for
liquid. When cut open, it enables me to experience a ‚there‘,
that is spoken forcefully. I make some essence out of it which I
spread onto the belongings of my apartment, considering that maybe
everyone would wish to come home to a house where it smells like
simple fresh-cut cucumber.