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).