Recognizing the shift

"To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul." Simone Weil on exile.


Paradox of global present, here is where I start singing... Lopez Alavez's "Mixteca" song.
If art must reconfigure in relation to transformed modes of cognition and experience
linked directly or indirectly with the activity and imagination of new subjectivities and communities in a conflict ridden with social environment, the way we think about research'd change,  challenging hegemonic uses of media and testing out new ways of assembling and presenting information. Tangible world dilapidated by the infinite phantasmagoria of images on line or on screen. This is where I shift to Kurt Weill's "Alabama" Song.

Strategies of materializing knowledge through concrete procedures are develop as a result of awakenings of communal memory within a culture depenent on historical amnesia. Installation art is paradoxically implied a sense of position and spatial homogeneity that can engage contemporary experience with a stunning diversity of materials and practices. What we habitually refer to as photography, film, video, television no longer has a stable identity and is now subject to increasingly frequent mutations as part of larger technological trans_formations

"theatricality paradoxically outlined the conditions that would come to define installation art" Rochelle Steiner

If theatre still provides one of the paradigms for today's instalations it's rhetoric has been superseded by other concerns, the idea of stage through repeated use of framing devices.
If place can be defined as relational, historical and concerned with identity then a space wich cannot be defined in those terms will be a non-place.

Il faut être nomade, traverser les idées comme on traverse les villes et les rues. Picabia.

declinante llamado

Instinto hacia adelante
atravesando el desierto, mero
territorio que se abre al sendero incierto
Un lugar a encontrar, sin atributos, sin fe
inventando a cada paso una geografía
perpleja todavía, trazada desde un barranco
laberinto
erosion continua, sin fin sin brindis
dejando distraídamente caer la obnubilada pesadumbre
mientras mi desconcierto se entrega con la incertidumbre de cada día.
Con tantas fuerzas como casualidades disueltas, en el tè
se anegan las visiones de mi habitacion
a repetidas voces como un mantra, susurradas entre dientes
castamente, el rosario entre los dedos, se rompe
entre cada cavidad, hendidura una resonancia de la piel escondida,
donde a tientas, a oscuras,
cada roce persigue con vehemencia su ambivalencia
su otra voz, del otro lado, a vuelta de cornisa
entre cuerpos, una persona, otro anhelo, desvelo
un lugar utopia, el desierto como anillo al dedo.
Me desmorona el muro con su impacto frio
con piedras de rio en el lavamanos
que persigue su flujo, a su propio agujero
acuarela a dos tintas, boreal y austral.

metabolizando

« E sopra il bosco quando fa sera s'alza una luna di rame;perché mai così poca musica, perché mai un tale silenzio? Osip Mandel'stam, da Kamen

“Finché vive la creatura

deve portare le proprie vertebre,

i flutti scherzano

con l’invisibile colonna vertebrale.

Come tenera, infantile cartilagine

è il secolo neonato della terra. (…)

Ma è spezzata la tua schiena

mio stupendo, povero secolo.

Con un sorriso insensato

come una belva un tempo flessuosa

ti volti indietro, debole e crudele,

a contemplare le tue ombre”

Osip Mandel’stam, 1923 “Il secolo”