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Handle with Care


Audio Text:

I haven't thought about these things for many years. Finding the book brought a crash of memories; all of it, all at once.

On a whim, and a shoe-string, we decided to go paint watercolours in the Karoo. In search of the wide eternal horizons of the desert landscape. No one knew we went. I planned to call my mother from the road. It was before cell-phones, so we would have to find a public phone along the way.

We left (late) on a Saturday and drove to Bloemfontein. Ate KFC and swam at the public pool. Then on to Colesburg, where we lucked into a place to spend the night. We didn't book anything in advance, just followed the road. It was exciting and adventurous. We took turns reading from my copy of Alice in Wonderland to keep each other alert.

Sunday. Early morning in Colesburg, learning about how windmills generate energy from our host before setting out on the road again. The only other car we saw after driving for a couple of hours was the one with doctors from Kroonstand, who stopped when they say our little old Fiat go off the road somewhere near Noupoortje in the Karoo. They saved our lives.

Maveric that I was, still am-ish, I said I was going to drive that day. I just got my learners license. I was driving under a 100 in a rust bucket on a national highway. Hit a pothole, panicked and just let go of everything. We hit the ground of the bottom of a ditch at 90km. You couldn't see the car from the road. If it wasn't for the doctors from Kroonstad who saw us go off the road, we would have died there. On the edge of the desert. Limbs burning. Blood flowing out.

The doctors kept me awake, took him out of the car and prevented chocking. Called paramedics who came. They called firefighters who came. Asked me about my pets Trying to keep me awake; Needing more crew to cut me out of the car. Burning pain. I thought I killed him. I couldn't see. The paramedics carefully picked up our personal belongings that had gone flying out of the windscreen on impact. They called my mother to meet us in hospital in Bloemfontein. She left Johannesburg immediately and got there first. I woke up in traction with three broke three limbs, my Alice book and my water color set retrieved by my guardian angels. He broke his ankle and jaw. Broken all over, but not dead. We were lucky. Took me months to learn how to walk again. I still haven't been to paint watercolours in the karoo.


This collaborative, sound-artwork makes use of sonic and visual metaphors to tell the story of a road trip that ended with a crash in the Karoo desert. The passengers took turns reading from Alice in Wonderland to keep each other alert on the road. Somewhere between Colesburg and Noupoort, the car hit a pothole. The unexperienced driver panicked and just let go of everything. If it wasn't for the doctors from Kroonstad who saw us go off the road, we would have died there. On the edge of the desert. Limbs burning. Blood flowing out. The paramedics who came to the rescue carefully picked up the passengers' Alice in Wonderland and set of water colour paints that flew out of the windscreen on impact. Broken all over, but not dead; we were lucky.

The drawings were made with those damaged paints, looking at the landscape outside of the hospital window while broken bones healed. The damaged book, now synecdoche for the broken body. Just as Alice's tacit knowledge was of no use in navigating the bizarre Wonderland she found herself in, none of their previous experiences prepared the passengers for the life changing crash. The sticky-tape used to repair the book and suitcase reminds viewers of the impossibility of repair, of life ever being the same after such trauma. The audio recording is a retelling of the story, with short fragments occurring out of place and added brittle resonances, emulating the experience of a traumatic memory and the unreal feeling of such a sudden and extreme event.

Like Alice, whose journey through Wonderland took her through unexpected experiences that tested her courage and resolve, the end of this journey led to unimaginable difficulties. Reflecting on an experience from two decades ago, ... A suitcase, that links to Kearney's previous works, as well as connotes journeys, baggage, hiding places. Also, the book that flew in to space was kept- it was also the only item object that remained, apart from the journal that Kearney made in the hospital. The sticky tape is a quixotic addition- when trying to find something that doesn't work...

Web design by Cameron Harris