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Rundgang | Dresden University of Fine Arts
“Canst thou draw out leviathan with a fish-hook? or press down his tongue with a cord? …Will he make many supplications unto thee? or will he speak soft words unto thee?”
Book of Job 40:25-27
“Moby-Dick is the White Wall bordering the pack; he is also the demonic Term of the Alliance; finally, he is the terrible Fishing Line with nothing on the other end, the line that crosses the wall and drags the captain…where? Into the void…”
A Thousand Plateau, P. 291
1
You cast your bait. It skimmed across the sky with a beautiful arc and gently dove into the water. The surface became still again, reflective and metallic. “Where are the fish?” you wondered. You already knew there were fish, or else you wouldn’t have come here. Your only concern was when the bait would be bitten. Baits are your camouflage, your becoming-fish. In murky waters, you whispered with your shimmering bait: come here, come and give me a kiss!
Of course, you were very focused on your bait. With your fingers, you felt for every vibration on the fishing line, like a spider sitting in its web, its milieu. The spider does not know how it evolved to making webs, and you have equally little idea how the first fishing tools looked. They say the human hand “appeared as a free form” on the steppe, but here on the high seas, it has found a new, unique expression.
Take the spider from its web and it will perish: the web is the spider, the bait is the angler. Every time you fished, you got better at it. It is an arms race. You invested in better clothing and more advanced tools. Now you wondered how the fishing rod fit so comfortably in your hand, as if you were born with it. There was no separating you from your bait; you depended on it; it was who you are.
Gorges - primeval predecessors of the fish hook
Tracks of Blue Marlins tagged in Bermuda (by IGFA)
2
One hears tales about falling in love in a different country. It seems like things are always more interesting when one is on the move. When wolves hunt, they pay full attention to what is around them, sensing carefully all that appears on the fringes of the pack. Perhaps it is this attention that paints an exotic landscape. “Returning” to nature is becoming quite impossible, especially when no land or sea is unmarked by humans. You knew what you packed along: your crafts, your morals. Out on the high seas, you had to create brief illusions of wilderness.
Let the wild animal drag you into the chase, let it give you a true taste of “nature.” What is out there, moving at a different speed? Oh, a marlin, how exciting! It flashed its brilliant scales, and you knew you were circled by its mysterious path. Then you stared again: you only saw waves, dark and cold. Where had it gone? The fish was the anomaly, it was what held you together - you, your rod, your boat, your fate. Even when you did not see it, it left you hanging.
3
A bite! The rod shook with excitement, your adrenaline ran high; it was a different game. The wait was over; you were no longer fish. Pull, like having your dog on the other end of a leash. Like lovers, locked in an intimate kiss. The animal was no longer wild. “Tame the beast!” they yelled at you, as if you two were wrestling in a ring. 7…6…5… who was giving up first? What was breaking, your line or its jaw? Fibers contracted in your biceps, the filament pulled tight.
Slowly and steadily, you pulled the fish toward you. How the tables had turned! Your mouth started to water; you imagined the umami of its flesh. The magic was gone the moment you touched its scales. How to strike a cool pose? How to slice the fillets? “Oh hey, you are back.” Back as a human, back online. Imagery, culinary. You held the trophy up with a bright grin, showing the teeth you would use to devour it.
You dragged the fish into your world. After a quick and delicious process, you were forever fused with your prey.
> Sentiments of Lure Casting
> Anglers