Some say that only lazy people who have nothing to say let themselves be inspired by the past in this way. We stand within history, history belongs within a museum….no sorry, within a spectrum, and a spectrum exists between two extremes. It is always happening but yet it is constantly over. You are standing inside a room within a room within a room…do you see? Or are you watching? There’s a difference between watching and seeing. Its like a beginning, a leap (the visitor leap).
You have the feeling of being relieved, you can take a deep breath without feeling suffocated because you are seeing, not watching. But what are you seeing? A chaos of shapes? Some kind of interrogation? Anger and despair? Generally, it’s a scene within a room and the scene is black and white. But nothing in life is black and white, I would say rather subtle gradients of grey. The colour black is the source of the colour white, of light, life generates in darkness, right?.
The museum - the artificial connection...
Smoke is grey and white and black. You can’t see anything if you stand in smoke, a puff, a cloud of fuzziness. Like the smoke after a bombilla of a magician. We are arriving at magic now, which we certainly always turn to when the future is too frightening. The painting formalizes a place within another place. History is the essence of the idea of a place……….what place? We forget that history goes right up to yesterday, or more confusingly the beginning already contains the end latent within itself.
This place within a place maybe doesn’t work, it may be a failed magic trick and the magician has just left, and all you have is the evidence of stigma. And you entered wearing all black when you knew that you can’t wear black while making sculpture. And you have just made things more confusing. What’s to be seen is a backdrop to the experience of viewing and you start contemplating that maybe, just maybe, you can only make something new by making something that already exists.