statement, transparent foil, 40 pieces.
the Blind Museum is closed.
It has nothing to offer, nothing to see. Here images are missing, they are hidden, postponed. The gaze does not fall, does not slide on anything but remains blocked, stopped.
It is non-gaze.
The works of art that the museum shelters do not seduce, do not offer meaning. They are still flounderings. Preserved, restored, archived for no one.
It could be the effect of
a history of aggressive shifting of meaning, of censorship and oppression.
It is the articulation of something that is in the back of the mind, behind the eyelashes.
The horizon that one can see is foggy. It is disorientation.
A tradition that does not offer anything produces offsprings emptied of identity.
An identity that can borrow from anywhere, can
fill itself with anything, it can be torn and then resumed.
the Blind Museum is in a fine balance of negation. It pendulates subtly, with whispers between promise-suspicion-hesitation-postponement.
It could give, it could take.
Visibility is censored here, what one can see is what an aborted sight can see,
a sight that does not reach far,
a suppressed sight.
the museum provokes the Museum. But it does so with whispered shouts. It weakens it
with whispers. MO is an inoperable instrument of Modernity.
It could be the announcement of a failure or of a success.
It is neither good, nor evil.
It does not try to form subjectivities, moralities or aesthetics. It is
a decayed patriarch, aged and crippled. And, thus, harmless.
It has nothing to offer, nothing to see. Here images are missing, they are hidden, postponed. The gaze does not fall, does not slide on anything but remains blocked, stopped.
It is non-gaze.
The works of art that the museum shelters do not seduce, do not offer meaning. They are still flounderings. Preserved, restored, archived for no one.
It could be the effect of
a history of aggressive shifting of meaning, of censorship and oppression.
It is the articulation of something that is in the back of the mind, behind the eyelashes.
The horizon that one can see is foggy. It is disorientation.
A tradition that does not offer anything produces offsprings emptied of identity.
An identity that can borrow from anywhere, can
fill itself with anything, it can be torn and then resumed.
the Blind Museum is in a fine balance of negation. It pendulates subtly, with whispers between promise-suspicion-hesitation-postponement.
It could give, it could take.
Visibility is censored here, what one can see is what an aborted sight can see,
a sight that does not reach far,
a suppressed sight.
the museum provokes the Museum. But it does so with whispered shouts. It weakens it
with whispers. MO is an inoperable instrument of Modernity.
It could be the announcement of a failure or of a success.
It is neither good, nor evil.
It does not try to form subjectivities, moralities or aesthetics. It is
a decayed patriarch, aged and crippled. And, thus, harmless.