Thursday, November 26, 2009
Untitled peephole number history or I love you, you deed pillow – annotation on attachment and affection
Stressing the association between history and significance, between selection and identification, “Untitled peephole…” forces an intimate situation where participation, voyeurism and endurance are the key aspects. The installation begins with the spatial transformation of normal a room in a convergent lane close to what perspective does.
At the center of the perspective for the room distortion or setting is a wall set upon a bed frame. This wall reaches the ceiling leaving an open triangular gap that tensions the rigid structure and from which some light is cast upon the wall. Light washes the surface that blocks the view of the light source.
The bed frame is set inclined on the floor creating a ramp. On top of the frame an almost fitting (or almost unfitting) board allows one to step over and safely feel the wobble.
The wall rigidity is interrupted by a round discreet hole. If looking into this round hole, one will be surprised by the view of an octagonal rim that outlines the limit of the view. This “passage” is meant to bring the awareness of the transformation of perception. The view rests finally on a video projection.
This is the film of a staged action. A sort of machinery splinters and smashes pieces of wood that are visual metaphors for book pages being torn apart. In the soundtrack sounds of books flipping pages and a voice uttering “Here”. This highlights the continuous transformation, incorporation and reinterpretation of reference, identification, recognition and belief. The impossibility is to trace or map the place of that “Here” when the piece motions to reinstate and to bring shift.
The video is extremely long considering the simplicity of the recorded action being necessarily an endurance test to will and affection, to persistence. In the end of the video some “leftovers” are shown, things that are also part of the transformation and selection process but deprived of the sound of flipping pages or the “Here”, because leftovers lack affection and attachment and worthy consideration.