You inhabit the cities you inhabit,
you do the work you do
you speak the way you speak
and wear the garments you want to
you look at the images you see
you live as you can
and you are what you can be
How could I know where I am and what I am worth
How could I know who you are
How could I recognize you
How can we recognize the identity of a person, of a thing, or of a place
We live in cities and they live inside us
We travel from one city to another, from one country to another
We change languages
and the habits
we change the opinions and the ways of dressing
we change everything
and everything changes quickly.
17 08 095
The frozen smoke
«Today I dreamt that I visited a planet with no gravity and that I built a studio there and made objects almost without a body or shadow.»
For a few seconds I got distracted and a fragment of landscape interrupted me; I breathed in the air of the room and gathered the last ingredients of the dream.
I composed myself and watched the TV; it was a programme about Henry Holt's strange and fascinating case. He was a middle-aged worker in a machine parts factory in the state of Ohio who discovered he had the weird ability to levitate, or at least that is what it seems; and since then, he has given up all family and working life, persuaded by a power of enchantment.
Today Henry feverishly consecrates himself to a sick1y state of trance during which he is almost constantly suspended in the air a few millimeters above the ground. This would be fascinating if it were true, although 1 do not know whether 1 should believe it.
These enchantments, inspired by the gods through the air, provide pleasure and take away the weight of gravity and sadness, at once fusing into a whole with what the free soul is thinking; the spell seduces and persuades the soul by fascinating it.
Coming out of the disorder I had a walk along the Sixth Avenue looking for some ideas.
That very afternoon I agreed to meet Ana Laura to see the exhibition in the MoMa, "The Mutant Material", which I had not yet seen. There 1 found, and almost by chance, the bodiless materials, those materials of which 1 had thought the previous night.
The "Aerogel Silica" or "frozen smoke" is a rare crystalline carbonate with 90 % of air in its molecular composition, which is a thousand times stronger than its own weight.
I was fascinated by its need of structure, the illusion, the error or the oversight, the strange opening, the missing side. A body so diaphanous that we can hardly see even its shadow, a body which hardly appears, the medium, the air that so disappears, letting other things appear.
That evening I came home on foot.
27 08 0095
The dehiscence of objects
1 was speaking when I awoke. I opened my eyes and recognized the spaces already occupied by the objects. Can an object occupy the space already occupied by another? A body invading its features, unfolded into another.
I opened my eyes and recognized those dislocated spaces. I thought of those vacant spaces supplied by others, encouraging the dispossession of the semitransparent object itself, which was perceptible through a soft of spurious or hybrid reasoning (...one can hardly believe in it)...
This is certainly what we see as if in a dream, when we assure ourselves that every being must be somewhere, in a certain place, occupying a specific space.
04 09 0095
The structure is the impenetrable body and the limit is, therefore, its finiteness.
05 09 0095
1 erect the walls of the first room and the enclosed space extremely amplifies the resonance.
The talk between the walls bounces in the corners; words tumble; fragments of sentences break apart; dismembered limbs move around; they are fixed the duration of a trajectory; they are translated; they are re-articulated; they are reverberated; they are protected; they institute an inside trading; they are understood as a dialogue full of sense... The sound of those words resounds within me and prevents me from hearing other things...
I close my ears to hear me-speak better, to see better.
011 09 095
Today I reconstruct; I see these walls in a very different way.
I can see the corners and near the centre the material is still in the double-
07 010 095
I again write in an attempt at verisimilitude and I think of the double room, of the relationship of imitation, of representation and illustration of the idea, the copy in myself, the thought-of representation of the thing, the ideal nature of the being for a subject.
A symmetrical room re-inscribed in a new place. The other face of this double surface, white of white.
It is not a unity, but the multiple game of a double scene which, while not illustrating anything outside itself, reveals the identity of that who inhabits it and constitutes a conformity of similarities or the adequate correspondence of a presence and a representation.
Yet, what is left if those who inhabit it are not there any more?
The identification of both rooms is signalled; there is no difference any more but identity, and in that fusion there is no distance any more between the desire of the presence that they should carry it and its fulfilment between the distance and the non-distance.
14 010 095
About the interior looking from that pure interior
From the other side, at the same time
such is what has a visible place
Open from inside
Confusion, blocking, collision of the spaces
with an interruption of the open bottom (the action at the
bottom becomes "full")
1 remember when 1 was inside...
what is beyond corresponds to what the bottom hides
They light up above (with a white light)
That is everything the echo says
double and liar, questioned by that one who lives inside
in a digged corner...
18 010 095
I lose the trick, and slowly create in a game that does not comfort me.
Later I coincided with many people and disappeared.
I immediately returned home and covered the soft interiors of the rooms.
I also considered again the double meaning of those parallel rooms, the repetition and disappearance of the limit and tripped while feigning 1 was reconstructing again.
Yet it was not a question of disassembling in order to construct but of reguiding the concept of identity and place, of depth and thickness.
I though that each object had been placed there as a trap, and that if I replaced the idea of any of them, the effect would be equal to both disappearance and accumulation.
Without identifying them could I already define those rotating places by signalling their points as if it were a drawing in its matrix?
Would all those effects of game that escape the dominion be casual?
As long as I depend on them and operate in absolutely differentiated spaces I admit the contradiction of the limit without any stratagems.
25 011 095
We, thus, move from the logic of the spaces that fill up everything to the palisades that separate, to the logic of the hymen as a protecting screen that stays between the interior and the exterior and, therefore, between the desire and its fulfilment.
It is neither the desire nor the pleasure but between the two.
Yet it is no longer simply in the "it is not possible". Given all the inexpressiveness of its sense, this room-palisade only has a space, a place, when it does not take place, when nothing really happens, when there is not even a signal or a margin, when I can see it as transparent and I can see through it.
In all the borders, and as a medium and texture, it wraps them up and inscribes them.
The non-entrance, the non-penetration, the non-perpetration.
There is no act, nor acting subject, nor, therefore, passive subject. However, in this false appearance practising the «game» again defines the separation of the «being». And nothing is more vicious than that suspension of the intangible
sealed and unharmed space.