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Washing my clothes
Filthiness flows
Watching my life going round and round

Washing my clothes
Asking myself
Why am I sentenced to bleed?
Why is my white always so stained?
Why the hell am I sentenced to bleed?

Washing my clothes, seeing blood flow
And I am asking myself
How to be happy
While I am washing my clothes
Draining the water out of my eyes
Drying the life out of the stench

Washing my clothes and the piles grow

And I am asking myself
Which one is the biggest of all?
Washing or drying?
Or putting away?

 

Or seeing death in the color of my red?
Washing my clothes, abusing my time
Trying to wash the dirt out of my days
Losing the dawn to dark

My blood is dark red, on my pants brown
Some say that Eve‘s guilty of that
Some might blame God, but he‘s passé

Washing my clothes
For all, I know I am not able to wash out
Red under red
Circling around, using my day

Washing my clothes, asking myself
Why am I sentenced to bleed?
Why is my white always so stained?
Why the hell am I sentenced to bleed?

I cooked
Made bellies warm
They pushed the love through their throats
Until they choked

And most of the time I stayed hungry
Sometimes they would forget
To hand me that fork or to think of me
Hated that

I cooked to make their hearts feel welcomed
To texture the abundance of home illusions

I made chutneys out of marmalade
And packed them in glass jars
With ribbons and calligraphy letters on it
And I improvised

Carefully
Wasn‘t throwing away
I wrote the lists and cherished
The herbs on the window sills

One day my food became too good
To good to digest

Not just that edible food

So I stopped cooking and started
Ordering pizza
And left the fridge empty
For the first time after the war

Once I had moths
That turned to worms on the ceiling
And they kept falling
Into the huge water glasses
Once a friend who had moths
Brought me a spice full of worms
So I had that master plan
To be in control of the moths
But Muhammad Ali said
That everybody has a plan
Until you get punched in the face

Won‘t act like Jesus
Because my mom told me this
Yeah, my mom told me this:
„If somebody hits you, just hit them back
As hard as you can“
You are not meant to be hit

Stand up & punch back
If you can‘t stand up right away
Practice strength and think of another plan
Then stand up later and punch back
And try not to miss
You are going to get punched in the face
Many times
So you‘re never done
And every single time
Stand up again
And again
And again
And all over again
So you‘re never done

Invent.

Repair.

Recycle.

Upcycle.

Replace.

Shorten.

Apply.

Transform.

 

One more hole is one more idea.

One cigarette burn is one more
application.

Make a skirt out of that dress!

Make something out of it!

Save that scarf!

Do not throw this away!

Sewing is about making something
Out of something else

Or something out of almost nothing.  

Handmade ceramic plates and Ikea
And a friend who told me to use vinegar
Josephine‘s invention
Vinegar did not help

Sometimes I would put the things in it
That did not belong there
Like huge wooden spoons
Or an ashtray that I loved, but it broke
Because I put it in there

 

 

Glasses were never shiny
Like in advertisements
Just flaky
At some point
I got tired of washing them by hands
So I washed them all over again

Blame that dishwasher

Then I just left all of them there
And pretended that they never existed

Clean, then sterilize
Before you sit down and take a shit
Exercise to kill penis envy
And pee while standing
Watermelon man attracting the flies
With remains of the sugar

„Why don‘t you do right?“
Said the one
„Nothing I do is enough or good enough!“
Said the other

So the other is right
And you do it yourself
Because yourself is what you‘ve got
At least most of the time

 

Coffee stains on the floor and on the oven
Tirelessly unclogging the bathtub drain
Using nasty chemicals
Your friend told you to use

Scrubbing

The cleaning lady wears a headscarf
And speaks five languages
She should work as a fatherfucking translator

Such a waste

Pee on the floor
Pee on the seat
Pee everywhere

Cleaning it was a definition of infinity

Saying something about it was so uncool
You‘re a bitch if you do that
They are so poor and sensible
Their cocks are not able to have an aim

So clean it, clean it, clean it, clean it, clean it Clean it…

And it almost lasted forever

One day you ask yourself
What is the hidden message?
Disrespect?
Passive aggression?

Or
I don‘t know any better
One should always learn
But you are not always the teacher
So you stop cleaning

You learn to do your Kegel exercises
And pee as a man, woman or whatever
And if you miss
Then you clean

Next time you pee all over something
And decide not to clean up after yourself
I‘ll be there as Poltergeist
You‘ll think of me as a bitch
But I like being a bitch
More than being a fucking cleaning lady
Or a piece of furniture

May his cock never rise.

May his cock never rise.

May your cocks never rise.

 

 

 

May his cock never rise.

May his cock never rise.

May your cocks never rise.

The Washing Machine
The Fridge
Water Tap
Microwave
Robotic Vacuum Cleaner called Fridolin
Vacuum Cleaner Dirt Devil
Upright Vacuum Cleaner Stormy
Crockery Brush
Kitchen Timer
Heater
Toaster

 

Hair Dryer
Glasses
Frother
Food Processor Mister Magic
Hand-held Mixer Soup Extra Large
The Dishwasher
The Bread Maker
Curling Machine Miracurl
Sewing Machine Deutsche Wertarbeit
Audio Interface Scarlett

Houswives Strike Back Credits

Concept, Coordination & Communication: Irina Karamarković

Concept, Video Editing, HSB Logo & Website: Denovaire

Concept / Video Statements: Irina Karamarković, Denovaire & Rastko Šejić

Silkscreen Print: Mischa Sauter

Art/ Drawings: Yiannis Brouzos

„Cooking“ Music Video: Denovaire

„Washing My Clothes“ Music Video: Serafin Sauter

Video Editing, HSB Logo & Website: Denovaire

Thanks to:

All great women in the videos
Landesregierung Steiermark Abteilung 9 Kultur, Europa, Sport
Women`s Action Forum
Bündnis 0803
Steirische Gesellschaft für Kulturpolitik / Styrian Society for Cultural Politics

Houswife's Fatal Submission Album Credits

Composition & arrangements: Daniela Fischer & Irina Karamarković
Lyrics: Irina Karamarković
Cover art / drawings: Yiannis Brouzos

Violin, processed violin, synthesizers: Daniela Fischer
Voice, processed voice, kitchen & beauty machines: Irina Karamarković

Album Recorded by Daniela Fischer in Vienna, kitchen recordings by Irina Karamarković in Graz
Mixed and mastered by Bernd Heinrauch in Schwarzau
Layout by Denovaire

Thanks to:
Yiannis Brouzos & Denovaire for their art, love, understanding & support, Bernd Heinrauch for his art and for always making us sound better than we thought possible, Anita Hofer for our Queerograd Festival premiere, Barbara Klein for the layout inputs, Maru for the label, Günther Kolman for his professional manner, Ruth Neumeister for proofreading, SKE and Stadt Graz for their financial support, Women*s Action Forum for the inspiration, our families, friends and colleagues.