Footnote (I)
In fact I
sometimes wonder whether this all really exist (exhibition, Singapore, reality
etc.). Let’s put it this way: if it doesn’t exist it would be necessary to
invent it. And that’s exactly what we are doing on a daily basis…creating reality.
Which proves that it doesn’t really exist. That even if there is existence it cannot be
described. That even if could be described it could not be communicate or
explain to others. On the other hand, if
something does not exist it may exist in other possible world...
Let’s start
with a place. The place. Because there always must be the place. Is not it?
Otherwise there is no-place. An empty vacuum that can accommodate all things
and at the same time mishandle everything. And then, how could we know where to
position ourselves? The protagonists of our story. Definitely there (here) must
a floor or something that we can stand on. Probably also something else, that
we can lean on (maybe another person, that would be presumably enough). In a
perfect situation we could levitate in an outer space… It doesn’t really
matter. Possibly a place that we’ve never been to. Foreign and familiar at the
same time. A place that we know and don’t know. As accessible as unreachable. Likely.
It’s there. It’s here. A system. A
theory. Singapore! But why? And why not?
The place
at this point is necessary to locate the things that this story is about.
What remains when you erase the objects and leave the space between? A
consciousness of the space between the things rather than things themselves.
The void between. The simultaneous awareness of form and non-form.
The positive power of negative space. Thus, if we call “negative space”
everything that surrounds an object in an image (we are an object in an image
of the world) – it means that we are all drifting/living in a negative space, n’est-ce
pas? They are the same, are they not…?
It’s like
walking up the Do Ho Suh inverted staircase, rendered in diaphanous red polyester. Space of displacement, of uncertainty. You
are between (or within) here-and-now and elsewhere-and-there.
In every
room one can stretch the strings and use them to determine, once and for all,
lines of human presence. You are slightly shifting between the things. Sometimes
they touch, sometime they don’t. Like créatures de la mer. Their tentacles are stretched. Moving among them you mark the space “in-between”, designate
their position in space. And everything in between. You move slowly, gliding
over the surface. As if afraid to put clear steps, to leave traces. To run
means to turn your back to the lions. And anyway, run where? To stand means than
that one has to be insane. (The rain is pouring over).