Faith Wilding, Waiting, 1974

Waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting . . .

Waiting for someone to come in

Waiting for someone to hold me

Waiting for someone to feed me

Waiting for someone to change my diaper Waiting . . .

Waiting to scrawl, to walk, waiting to talk

Waiting to be cuddled

Waiting for someone to take me outside

Waiting for someone to play with me

Waiting for someone to take me outside

Waiting for someone to read to me, dress me, tie my shoes

Waiting for Mommy to brush my hair

Waiting for her to curl my hair

Waiting to wear my frilly dress

Waiting to be a pretty girl

Waiting to grow up Waiting . . .

Waiting for my breasts to develop

Waiting to wear a bra

Waiting to menstruate

Waiting to read forbidden books

Waiting to stop being clumsy

Waiting to have a good figure

Waiting for my first date

Waiting to have a boyfriend

Waiting to go to a party, to be asked to dance, to dance close

Waiting to be beautiful

Waiting for the secret

Waiting for life to begin Waiting . . .

Waiting to be somebody

Waiting to wear makeup

Waiting for my pimples to go away

Waiting to wear lipstick, to wear high heels and stockings

Waiting to get dressed up, to shave my legs

Waiting to be pretty Waiting . . .

Waiting for him to notice me, to call me

Waiting for him to ask me out

Waiting for him to pay attention to me

Waiting for him to fall in love with me

Waiting for him to kiss me, touch me, touch my breasts

Waiting for him to pass my house

Waiting for him to tell me I’m beautiful

Waiting for him to ask me to go steady

Waiting to neck, to make out, waiting to go all the way

Waiting to smoke, to drink, to stay out late

Waiting to be a woman Waiting . . .

Waiting for my great love

Waiting for the perfect man

Waiting for Mr. Right Waiting . . .

Waiting to get married

Waiting for my wedding day

Waiting for my wedding night

Waiting for sex

Waiting for him to make the first move

Waiting for him to excite me

Waiting for him to give me pleasure

Waiting for him to give me an orgasm Waiting . . .

Waiting for him to come home, to fill my time Waiting . . .

Waiting for my baby to come

Waiting for my belly to swell

Waiting for my breasts to fill with milk

Waiting to feel my baby move

Waiting for my legs to stop swelling

Waiting for the first contractions

Waiting for the contractions to end

Waiting for the head to emerge

Waiting for the first scream, the afterbirth

Waiting to hold my baby

Waiting for my baby to suck my milk

Waiting for my baby to stop crying

Waiting for my baby to sleep through the night

Waiting for my breasts to dry up

Waiting to get my figure back, for the stretch marks to go away

Waiting for some time to myself

Waiting to be beautiful again

Waiting for my child to go to school

Waiting for life to begin again Waiting . . .

Waiting for my children to come home from school

Waiting for them to grow up, to leave home

Waiting to be myself

Waiting for excitement

Waiting for him to tell me something interesting, to ask me how I feel

Waiting for him to stop being crabby, reach for my hand, kiss me good morning

Waiting for fulfillment

Waiting for the children to marry

Waiting for something to happen Waiting . . .

Waiting to lose weight

Waiting for the first gray hair

Waiting for menopause

Waiting to grow wise

Waiting . . .

Waiting for my body to break down, to get ugly

Waiting for my flesh to sag

Waiting for my breasts to shrivel up

Waiting for a visit from my children, for letters

Waiting for my friends to die

Waiting for my husband to die Waiting . . .

Waiting to get sick

Waiting for things to get better

Waiting for winter to end

Waiting for the mirror to tell me that I’m old

Waiting for a good bowel movement

Waiting for the pain to go away

Waiting for the struggle to end

Waiting for release

Waiting for morning

Waiting for the end of the day

Waiting for sleep Waiting . . .

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Francis Alÿs, Politics of Rehearsal, 2005

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“This station cannot properly be what it is supposed to be for us as long as the moment of the train’s arrival is not there. The dragging of time as it were refuses the station the possibility of offering us anything. It forces it to leave us empty. The station refuses itself, because time refuses it something… How much time is capable of here! It has power over railway stations and can bring it about that stations bore us.”

 

(Martin Heidegger, The Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics)

Margulies I (1996) “NOTHING HAPPENS Time for the Everyday in Postwar Realist Cinema” in Nothing Happens. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

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Chantal Akerman, Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, 1975

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