Instruktør og Klipper: Brian Fensman (MørkeLeg Film) Kamera: Mitz Pebré Colorgrade: Martin Melancolia Special Effects: Laila Fensman Tegninger: Elva Maria Stigsgaard Jørgensen Lys: Xenia Ramm & Mitz Pebré Medvirkende: Daniella Lappin, Elva Maria Stigsgaard Jørgensen, Graeme Cochrane, Søren Alleshauge, Bengt/YO, Lone Christensen, Magnus Hjorth, Mads Edzeani, Brian Fensman Tak til: Gallery Kimaha og spillestedet Loppen. Tekst efter digt af: Claus Nivaa 2017 Musik og produktion af: Es og Kasper Spez Melodi og sang: Pernille Vallentin Bas og stryg : Emil Brun Madsen Blæs og klaver: André Jensen ----- I 2017 døde min mor efter et kapløb mellem en alt for tidlig demenssygdom og kræft. Jeg skrev et engelsksproget digt med titlen ”Fine Line” ved hendes side i det døgn, hun kæmpede sin sidste kamp. Jeg betragtede alle linjerne i hendes ansigt og fandt særligt en i det, der fint tegnede hele hendes, og mit, liv for vores ansigter er grundrids fra vores forældres i en evig gentagelse. Min mors var ældet hurtigt, men hendes hænder var stadig smukke, og hendes hjerte var ungt, sagde lægerne, og derfor ville det ikke give slip på livet. Det gav først efter, da min bror henad den tidlige aften den dag i april lagde en beroligende hånd på det. Min sødeste og klogeste, min kæreste Mia, fandt teksten til digtet og sendte det i hemmelighed til vores ven, digteren og rapperen Kasper Rohmann, også kendt under rapperalias Kasper Spez. Kasper lavede en melodi til ”Fine Line”, hvorved det blev en sang til min mor. Det udviklede sig til, at han fik flere musikere på sangen og fik den produceret af Es. I slutningen af maj ’17 blev jeg 40 år, og Mia forærede mig sangen om morgenen. Det åbnede for mange rensende tårer. Vi tænkte alle, at andre mennesker kunne have glæde af sangen og digtet. Så her er det hele udsendt under vores kollektive digter- og musikerpseudonym, Drift, der markerer, at poesien i livet er en strøm, en skabertrang og til tider som drivtømmer, hvor musik og ord flyder ind på fælles kyster. - Claus Nivaa Lyrics: “Fine Line” The fine line of time your eyelids draw when you're still asleep at dawn What if I draw it over again with dips of sun light as my paint would you wake up without any pain? What if I plant it with a row of seeds with all the blessings and curses of your deeds would you flourish and grow as my creed? What if I touch it with my finger tip with caresses of tears and rain that drip would you wipe 'em off and let it slip? The fine line of time your eyelids draw when you're still a sleep at dawn What if I shape it in the corner of my own face with tears of sunlit blessings and curses as my grace would I get to keep it as my trace? The fine line of time my eyelids draw when you no longer are at dawn. --- Introduction in English: My mother died in 2017 after a race between a far to early dementia disease and cancer. I wrote a poem in English with the title “Fine Line” by her side in her final hours where she fought her last battle. I watched all the lines in her face and found one especially in it which delicately drew all of her life, and mine, for our faces are the outlines of our parents in an eternal repetition. My mother’s though had grown old fast but her hands were still beautiful, and her heart, the doctors said, was still young, and therefore it wouldn’t let go of life. It finally gave in when my brother calmingly put his hand on it in the early hours of that April evening. My sweetest and wisest, my girlfriend Mia, found the text to the poem and sent it in all secrecy to our friend, the poet and rapper Kasper Rohmann, alias Kasper Spez. Kasper made a tune for “Fine Line” by which it turned into a song for my mother. It all evolved into letting more musicians in on the song and it got produced by the producer, Es. By the end of May 2017 I turned 40, and Mia gave me the song as a birthday present that morning. It opened the way for many cleansing tears. We all thought that other people might enjoy the song and the poem. So here it is broadcasted under the patronage of our collective poetry and music pseudonym by the name of “Drift” which marks that poetry in life is a stream, a creative will and at time like driftwood where music and words float onto fellow shores. - Claus Nivaa

• published: 31 Jul 2018
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