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R-E-Spirando
Collagene, DAS Dispositivo Arti Sperimentali Via del Porto 11/2 Bologna, Italy 11 January 2022 Video: Daniela Beltrani |
Intro
The conceptualisation of this performance comes from a long reflection that binds different experiences I have lived and are united by a single element, the breath.
As a yoga teacher I have learned several breath control techniques.
As a meditation practitioner I have learned to become aware of MY breath.
As an artist I have dedicated myself to an ephemeral artistic language that - free from
materialism and consumerist logic - lives only in the same moment of the breath,
the present one.
As a mother I listened to the first breath of my two children.
As a daughter, I listened to the last breaths of my mother.
These experiences have profoundly marked me in their diversity and impacted my life in an incisive and decisive way for my future choices.
Seed
The seed for the conceptualisation of this performance was planted last year, when I started suffering from paroxysmal nocturnal dyspnea. Mouthful word to describe breathing difficulties similar to a sort of hunger for air.
In particular, this breathing difficulty occurs at night, while I sleep, and tends to resolve itself when, from lying down, I assume an upright, sitting position (and then it takes the name orthopnea, from the Greek ortho, straight and pneo, breath).
I have read the science, but why does this orthopnea terrify me the moment it assaults me?
I think I have found the right answer in the connection with the last exhalation that I will do in my life and that will accompany the moment of passing away, and is therefore connected to the fear of death, of not being here anymore.
On the other hand, in its most basic and elementary form, life is a succession of breaths: hundreds of years ago some Upanishads spoke of an average of 20,000 breaths per day, for a total of almost 700 million breaths for an average life of 80 years, (also confirmed by Western science).
But what is breathing? It is a gas exchange, and is divided into the two phases of inhalation and exhalation.
We begin life with an IN-spiration and end it with an EX-piration. A cycle that begins and ends
How do you know when a loved one is about to die?
Suomenlimna, Helsinki, Finland, 17 November 2013.
"-Ready? Daniela?
-Hello mom. How are you?
-The time has come, I think. This time, yes ...
-Okay mom. I'm in Helsinki. I'm looking for a flight to Milan and I'm coming. Wait for me. "
No. Our brief conversation did not go as I read it.
I barely remember it.
The only thing I know for sure is that my mother's breathing had changed.
She gasped, it was hard for her to breathe, as if where she was, there was no more air to breathe ... as if she were on another planet, an astronaut whose helmet had broken and the lack of air was suffocating her ...
How do you know when a loved one is about to die?
On 4 November 2013 I get a similar phone call.
I just finished a performance art festival which had been very complex and difficult.
On 6 November I leave Singapore with my 9-year-old son.
After 12 hours we arrive in Milan, 4 hours later we are with her.
We spent what we believed to be his last days together. Instead she recovered.
On 13 November we return to Singapore. Our life had been there for many years.
On 17 November I left for Helsinki for a performance art festival to which I had been invited.
My partner at the time convinced me that it would be better to be in Helsinki than in Singapore.
I was closest to the hospice near Brescia, where my mother was staying.
I had to continue with my life, but to be able to drop everything and reach her.
How do you know when a loved one is about to die?
Sunday 17 November I arrive in Helsinki.
In the afternoon, I get your call.
I look for flights immediately. There are no more flights to Milan.
We have to wait until the next day, Monday 18 November.
There are two flights, one early in the morning (8:30?) and one in the afternoon (16:30?).
I am tired. The divorce. The travel to Italy every two months. My son, my friends and art comfort me.
I decide for the second flight.
When I leave Helsinki she is still alive.
But when I arrive at the hospice, after the taxi at 1:00 pm, the plane, the shuttle, the train, another taxi, at 9:00 pm, my mother has already breathed out ... her last breath.
And I didn't make it, I was late.
How do you know when a loved one is about to die?
Those close to death will spend most of their time sleeping.
They may not be able to communicate when they are awake because their senses are abandoning them. However, they will still be able to hear: hearing is the last sense to go away.
Physical signs that death is near include:
- a sudden charge of energy
- mottled and mottled skin, especially on the hands, feet and knees, as blood pressure decreases
- difficulty swallowing
- less urine
- restlessness
- congested lungs
- difficult breathing
Prior to death, a change in the person's breathing pattern may be noted.
Specifically, dyspnea - defined as shortness of breath or perceived difficulty in breathing - predicts mortality and is also an indicator of certain diseases, mostly affecting the heart and lungs.
In addition, there may be periods of rapid breathing followed by short periods of not breathing. This phenomenon is known as Cheyne-Stokes respiration and is very common at the end of life.
There may also be sounds of chest congestion and throat noises. Pharyngeal secretions or the inefficiency of the throat muscles cause a particular and noisy breathing, also called the rattle of death: in practice, the loved one can no longer expectorate or swallow the secretions.
Hearing the sound thus produced could cause upset to those close to the dying person, but it is certainly comforting to know that it does not cause them any suffering. Changing their position or using medications to dry the secretions can minimise the noise. This treatment is to comfort the family or caregivers, because agonal breathing occurs when the patient cannot realise it. It can continue for hours and often means that death will occur within hours or days.
The conceptualisation of this performance comes from a long reflection that binds different experiences I have lived and are united by a single element, the breath.
As a yoga teacher I have learned several breath control techniques.
As a meditation practitioner I have learned to become aware of MY breath.
As an artist I have dedicated myself to an ephemeral artistic language that - free from
materialism and consumerist logic - lives only in the same moment of the breath,
the present one.
As a mother I listened to the first breath of my two children.
As a daughter, I listened to the last breaths of my mother.
These experiences have profoundly marked me in their diversity and impacted my life in an incisive and decisive way for my future choices.
Seed
The seed for the conceptualisation of this performance was planted last year, when I started suffering from paroxysmal nocturnal dyspnea. Mouthful word to describe breathing difficulties similar to a sort of hunger for air.
In particular, this breathing difficulty occurs at night, while I sleep, and tends to resolve itself when, from lying down, I assume an upright, sitting position (and then it takes the name orthopnea, from the Greek ortho, straight and pneo, breath).
I have read the science, but why does this orthopnea terrify me the moment it assaults me?
I think I have found the right answer in the connection with the last exhalation that I will do in my life and that will accompany the moment of passing away, and is therefore connected to the fear of death, of not being here anymore.
On the other hand, in its most basic and elementary form, life is a succession of breaths: hundreds of years ago some Upanishads spoke of an average of 20,000 breaths per day, for a total of almost 700 million breaths for an average life of 80 years, (also confirmed by Western science).
But what is breathing? It is a gas exchange, and is divided into the two phases of inhalation and exhalation.
We begin life with an IN-spiration and end it with an EX-piration. A cycle that begins and ends
How do you know when a loved one is about to die?
Suomenlimna, Helsinki, Finland, 17 November 2013.
"-Ready? Daniela?
-Hello mom. How are you?
-The time has come, I think. This time, yes ...
-Okay mom. I'm in Helsinki. I'm looking for a flight to Milan and I'm coming. Wait for me. "
No. Our brief conversation did not go as I read it.
I barely remember it.
The only thing I know for sure is that my mother's breathing had changed.
She gasped, it was hard for her to breathe, as if where she was, there was no more air to breathe ... as if she were on another planet, an astronaut whose helmet had broken and the lack of air was suffocating her ...
How do you know when a loved one is about to die?
On 4 November 2013 I get a similar phone call.
I just finished a performance art festival which had been very complex and difficult.
On 6 November I leave Singapore with my 9-year-old son.
After 12 hours we arrive in Milan, 4 hours later we are with her.
We spent what we believed to be his last days together. Instead she recovered.
On 13 November we return to Singapore. Our life had been there for many years.
On 17 November I left for Helsinki for a performance art festival to which I had been invited.
My partner at the time convinced me that it would be better to be in Helsinki than in Singapore.
I was closest to the hospice near Brescia, where my mother was staying.
I had to continue with my life, but to be able to drop everything and reach her.
How do you know when a loved one is about to die?
Sunday 17 November I arrive in Helsinki.
In the afternoon, I get your call.
I look for flights immediately. There are no more flights to Milan.
We have to wait until the next day, Monday 18 November.
There are two flights, one early in the morning (8:30?) and one in the afternoon (16:30?).
I am tired. The divorce. The travel to Italy every two months. My son, my friends and art comfort me.
I decide for the second flight.
When I leave Helsinki she is still alive.
But when I arrive at the hospice, after the taxi at 1:00 pm, the plane, the shuttle, the train, another taxi, at 9:00 pm, my mother has already breathed out ... her last breath.
And I didn't make it, I was late.
How do you know when a loved one is about to die?
Those close to death will spend most of their time sleeping.
They may not be able to communicate when they are awake because their senses are abandoning them. However, they will still be able to hear: hearing is the last sense to go away.
Physical signs that death is near include:
- a sudden charge of energy
- mottled and mottled skin, especially on the hands, feet and knees, as blood pressure decreases
- difficulty swallowing
- less urine
- restlessness
- congested lungs
- difficult breathing
Prior to death, a change in the person's breathing pattern may be noted.
Specifically, dyspnea - defined as shortness of breath or perceived difficulty in breathing - predicts mortality and is also an indicator of certain diseases, mostly affecting the heart and lungs.
In addition, there may be periods of rapid breathing followed by short periods of not breathing. This phenomenon is known as Cheyne-Stokes respiration and is very common at the end of life.
There may also be sounds of chest congestion and throat noises. Pharyngeal secretions or the inefficiency of the throat muscles cause a particular and noisy breathing, also called the rattle of death: in practice, the loved one can no longer expectorate or swallow the secretions.
Hearing the sound thus produced could cause upset to those close to the dying person, but it is certainly comforting to know that it does not cause them any suffering. Changing their position or using medications to dry the secretions can minimise the noise. This treatment is to comfort the family or caregivers, because agonal breathing occurs when the patient cannot realise it. It can continue for hours and often means that death will occur within hours or days.
