Radiation Mountain

Ceren Kılıç
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In the hospital room where Sevim Burak is deep in conversation with Samuel Beckett, there are people dancing with their Balwawa masks. Actually not, but there are. This is a long African dance. And it is cumbersome. Or Tezer Özlü listens to it in Léo Ferré's concert, Torelli and Marcello listen to it in their rooms. Still, it is serene. And in another way it is breathtaking. Radiation Mountain has no intention to make a reference to these artworks, but it seems it also speaks to them. Or it makes people who come to see it speak. It adds or subtracts some things. The blog Ceren Kılıç started for a limited period of time is her quarantine journal. Completely different from her other works, the reason behind this collection shouldn't be taken for granted. The images chosen to publish in the blog would make the compulsory time spent in the room pleasant. Kılıç remarks she shared the link via an e-mail with her inner circle by saying "I didn't delete any of the photos I have taken and I only had the energy to take that much." And she adds the ones didn't take via another e-mail:


the doctor gave me the medication by monitoring me through a camera and giving instructions with the microphone in his hand.

pharyngitis and nausea.

luckily I have a window in my room, really, it faces the wall so it is perfect, I am looking at the wall.

after all, the best thing about a window is it facing the wall.

there is no wifi access

there is no mobile access

but they gave me an ethernet cable, I am with a laptop

I feel a bit dizzy, it might be psychological though

it might also because I haven't eaten anything yet and I won't be for the next 2 years

luckily, the male nurse is lovely

now and then he talks to the microphone saying HOW ARE YOU DOING somewhere from the room I don't know

and I say I AM FINE and do this LIKE gesture without knowing where to look

Radiation Mountain is a pile of archive which doesn't belong to nature, where waste from the quarantine is collected. Ceren Kılıç's brimful of records; are somewhat numb documents she conveys from a period in which cannot communicate and is not allowed to touch or approach anyone.

It is in a manner, an experience of some narrative in a different accent.