This serie is as much an attempt to recollect a pivotal 2 years period (2018-2019) in our life as it is a healing process. It’s even quite literally a cauterization process, as I came to realise that silver nitrate was used to heal a wound and avoid infection, as well as in the chemical process of photography to reveal an image.
This body of work (from the last 2 years and from older family photos) aims at letting the light comes through on what is lost, and what is alive, what once was in darkness and what vibrates in plain sight.
This tension between the now and the past is deepened with a video work about Claude
, a wonderful and witty 92 y.o lady who has genuinely opened her heart to us.
“The problem’s not that the truth is harsh but that liberation from ignorance is as painful as being born. Run after truth until you’re breathless. Accept the pain involved in re-creating yourself afresh. These ideas will take a life to comprehend, a hard one interspersed with drunken moments.” – Naguib Mahfouz (Palace of Desir)
I am all about dust and memories, the experience of being you, me, Ari is meant to disappear like tears in the rain.
Everything that I believe, everything that I own, everyone I love, even my flesh and bones, even my little personal persona in this space and time thing that is the universe right now, anything and everything around is meant to disappear at some point in time, that’s time, that’s entropy, that’s karma, evolution, i ching …. call it X.
We are just that, we are just dust.
And yet something stays, some memory or gut feeling or a strange dream or a subtle silver lining… about what truly means to be alive, something universal, archetypical, basic, primal, radical, animal, human, extraterrestrial, transcendental, spiritual, the void that we see when we get back to the dark room of our mind when we close our eyes and we think stuff repeatedly craving for turning the wheel again and again of some sexual fantasy or some bad vibe with mum, and then all of the sudden we are talking to this void, like if it could answer or it could listen. And we ask wishes to this void, to this life… like it owes us something.
Who told to us that this was gonna be easy, who promised us that since the first breath it would be eeeeeasy peasy, who signed a contract to be loved, to feel complete ?
I lost my track, monkey mind, I’m trying to get back to my point that we are memories, we live making memories, living in memories, retasting some memories, making them a fundamental source of daily evasion of reality, for deep learning about others and yourself, as a pilar for your inner world.
But why do we remember things that we haven’t live ? Why do we miss people that we haven’t met ? Why do we miss peace like we ever had it ? Why do we feel so much more than expected ? Why are we so troubled, still very much students of life, never experts, not even technicians of life, so ignorants, so wise, so deep, so low, so high, so lost ?
And at the same time, like a dancing yin and yang, dust has memories, and memories are dust, clouding our eyes and heart with all those sticky images, names, faces which float around everywhere we look at reality, they are always there like ghost or dying cyborgs, or moving floaters in our eyesight.