CHARLOTTE MURDOCH

Strings 3

‘tongue for water’

May 2025

A New Song

You are never ready when I call. You always need a moment, a few minutes. What should I think? I stroke the ear of my dog as I wait for a sign from you that you are ready.

Your hair is wet and the fabric at your shoulders is darker, you’ve dressed in a hurry. I send you a compliment and it makes you shrug. Perhaps you just want to get on with it.

You talk for about six or seven minutes then excuse yourself to refill your tea. Before you have sat down again you are already talking and I miss what you have said. To repeat yourself seems to annoy you. You are speaking quickly and again you get up for more tea.

You are cross with a family member who you feel has wronged you; they have taken something you believe should have been yours. You are full of anger and I want you to find some compassion towards yourself, to slow the onslaught of your tongue. I ask you whether you have implemented any of the techniques I’ve shown you; again, you seem annoyed at the interruption.

You are not unreasonable though and you know this resentment isn’t sustainable. You’re slower now; you’ve tired yourself out. You ask a question and so I know you are listening. You know I am here; you want to know what I think, whether I think you are being difficult. I need a moment to answer but you like brevity in most things. Four years of working with you and I can say that confidently.

You are looking at me and you are still. I speak slowly. I tell you what I think you know that the object is more than it appears. It is more like a totem. I tell you that it represents your childhood and that working through your childhood is an on-going task.  The object being taken away makes you feel that there is a rush, that things are becoming final, becoming permanent.

You look at me and I see you relax, though your breathing is inaudible.
You must forgive yourself; I say to you, can you do that?

You are silent and there is the hum of the computer and the gentle sound of licking as my dog settles across my feet.

(The Object)

I am an irregular shape; I am crisp and neat and settled in my box. I was purchased in childhood and childhood is my theme. I was bought with cherished pocket money and I was tacked on a wall. I am as much like a drawing made by hand. I am many things, I know I am. I hope to have a happy life, a very happy life. I am developed in one direction and I am trying to feel alive, trying to feel life. Life has started to feel like it is going too quickly, “wait!” I call after life, “can I come too?”

CHARLOTTE MURDOCH is an artist and writer from London, now living in Berlin. She studied Fine Art at the Slade.