I started psychoanalysis to free myself from traumas. When I had to physically distance myself from the analyst’s office, my analytical work continued by phone. While talking, I began to doodle—words, figures, forms, images. These spontaneous creations are fragments of my unconscious, opaque and silent offerings, riddles with too many unknowns, uncontrolled eruptions of inner magma. They never had any other destiny or pretense than to spread through the phone to my “assalyst” I had never drawn, painted, or made collages before. In two and a half years, more than 600 of these secretions gnawed at the live memory of his phone. Secret secretions, they were never mentioned in psychoanalysis sessions.
Since my analyst refused to participate in a film about psychoanalysis, I replaced him with a real “assalyst” also a Lacanian.