Helios, who is walking above us…
In the perception of the person looking around, the world is flat. Lines of roads, lines of the horizon, right, left, forward and backward. Time, starting from birth to death is linear.
The man has risen from his usual «I».
Having flown over the world, over the earth by the power of thought and spirit or physically, we saw spheres - the circles of the universe. Having risen, we learned the cyclic nature of the Great World. The world became round and the humanity has invented the wheel.
With the invention of the wheel, not only technologies have changed, but also philosophy. The discovery of the rotation of the planets has brought us to an understanding of the rotation of life itself.
Life, which seemed straightforward in the first approximation, has suddenly turned into a Circle or a spiral.
Human history is moving in a spiral, the history repeats itself round and round again, with some minor changes.
Consciousness, a philosophical thought, the history of arts – they’re all moving in a spiral. We often forget about previous generations’ experience, repeating mistakes or inventions round and round again.
The circular perception of the world was first described in the earliest Hindu texts of the Vedas. In the introduction to the first book of the Mahabharata, Sanjaya says: «Existence and non-existence, happiness and grief are all rooted in Time. Time creates all living beings and Time also kills them. Time again pacifies the Time that destroys created beings. <…> Time moves through all living beings which are his captives.»
Later we find the same thought in Ecclesiastes: «To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; <...> A time to rend, and a time to sew; <...> A time of war, and a time of peace». In the Middle Ages, the concepts of time and space were developed by Augustine Blessed.
For the Incas, time was combined with space, and was denoted by this one word -pacha, (kechua) which means time and space at the same time. That anticipates the emergence of the concept of a single space-time continuum in the theory of relativity.
Time was divided into the present and the past / future. And it is shown running round the circle: both backwards and forwards, the same word means future time and space ahead.
In their part of the project, Brazilian artist Lucas Gervilla and Russian artists Dasha Delone and Dima Goryachkin (DaDim group) by the example of various circular movements, analyze the spherical structure of the material and astral world.
The artists use the language of visualization, starting from the simplest everyday activities, psychology of relationships and kinematic mechanisms, and gradually moving to the semantic system of images.
This video embodies (and plays with) some elements from Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis. Like in a theatre mirror, the two characters seem to fall victim to some off-stage creature (an insect? a spider? a ghost?), while they are actually victim to one another, sharing the same disturbing personality and obsessions.
‘’Behind this page but not disappearing ”
A life articulated in the void, deprived of every stimulus and devoid of any meaning, must correspond to a “frozen” time, without a flow. A time that knows no past or present, static, unmoving, a bad eternity…Narrative-shots in ruins-skin-the soul of things)
Every time there is an intense emotion it’s like a smoke/mist covering everything around. Some other times, it’s as if it’s embracing everything and others as if it’s encaging everything. Fear, love, hatred, all create smoke(mist) of varying density,width and colour. Everything disperses like smoke, except when they merge into a wall (the dream of the guy(man?) by the door produces some smoke, as if reaching a conclusion).
If you’re wandering aimlessly on a beach, for example, as I’m doing now, there’ no specific colour of smoke. If, however, you’re travelling for a specific reason it’s different. It’s like those moments when you get back home after an exhausting day’s work and you project a shape around you which leaves you and heads towards your destination.
“I stood there , staring into the horizon, trying to distinguish or imagine shapes and forms reflected in the clouds and the clear water. Trying to see waves, smoke and energy fields… The messages we ourselves emit.
Every cell in a body and every molecule and atom in that cell is in a state of incessant vibration, making up a greater amount of energy which is able to transform the electric properties of the space they occupy. The message of change travels to other places at the speed of light. Given that our organisms are different, each of us echoes-reverberates in a frequency that is a personal trait, as unique as our fingerprints. We are like radars. Sensors, sensitive to messages from similar distant organisms.
(Close ups of ruins-skin-soul of things-digging into matter)
all paths are well-trodden, full of people and murmurs. But there is one that differs, a path with a soul. A path that, without hesitation, begins the rhythm of its own life. Anyway to know something well one must really touch it. Not meaning to be crude-to my mind only inaction(inertia) is crude. I focus on my bare feet, on this piece of soft earth. There could be many routes leading to the same place, though none of them would be as suitable as this one. I let it affectionately carry my bare feet. Paths like this one appear in nature of their own volition. They are the result of the spiritual relationship that connects the earth and its people, those who can sense the rhythm of its breath. Such a path, embellishes the landscape rather than violate and disfigure it.
A common thread that runs through identical or disparate elements and ends up being a state of things retired unto itself which cannot be seen through one’s eyes but can rather be felt. The lights pulsing timorously in the firmament are perhaps a rhythm of recoiling into themselves. Perhaps if we are at harmony with them we will find the meaning…the way…The earth is living, tossing in her sleep, dreaming, stirring, breathing, panting. Her humours course through her body. Her waters convey information. We grow, we mature with her, or so we believe.
(Stretching)Spreading her senses towards the universe, observing and waiting for the echo of the melody which will signal a new super-sensuous dance. (dancer on sand)
Ready to respond. We are born in a fluid state. Everything born on earth was born in water. We have all experienced life in the liquid element at least once. ——————–Nine months for most -seven and a half for me- in the womb’s liquids, a respiratory cord connected to our belly. There we heard everything. The maternal heartbeat, the creaking bones all around us, a frothing beer and any other sound from our immediate environment…trying to retain our primeval functions …apart from our
bodily mass, each of us carries over 10 tons of air. The only reason we are not crushed is that the blood and the other bodily fluids which are compressed counterbalance the atmospheric pressure…it’s a sensitive balance,…a sensitive chaos. So I sing of the day and the sea and the time and the planets. And thus I am entangled with all I wish for and am at one with everything in this guileless toing and froing, for in our future lie roving bolts of lightning and violent flour storms…..
In my dreams it's always night, a silent night with few words spoken by its characters. Some I remember, others vanish in the morning just to come back as a glimpse the following night when I close my eyes. Sometimes it feels like a TV show, with a continuity that I cannot catch.
Some of them keep hunting me on day time, for days, sometimes years. These Dreams are the Shines of a memory lost over time, gone for good, or maybe not really.
In english grammar, there is a form called the passive voice, where an action is described without mentioning the agent, the ball was thrown, the meal was cooked. I like the space where the agent should be. The work is about agency. The photographs were taken in the disused Cal Garbrat fabric factory in Vilasar de Dalt near Barcelona. The factories had been built in the late 19C, they had their heyday in the early 20C and went into decline between the first and second world wars. The last things to be made there were silk screen printed t-shirts for pissed up british people on the near by island of Mallorca. That company had collapsed rapidly to the point it looked more like they had had to escape rather than just quit and leave. They left screens, cloth for t-shirts and ink barrels as well as piles of accounts and other paperwork. I rather liked the mysterious and slightly creepy feeling that remained so I built sculptures with this jetsam I found in the building and then photographed the process of destroying these items. Using the pinhole meant that my interventions were hidden but had an increasingly destructive effect including on the image.
My work is inspired by English traditional ‘popular arts’ – accessible visual languages that are remnants of a world that is disappearing and becoming engulfed by globalisation, at the same time as being resistant to this through their very nature and origin.
Recent work has been motivated by cynicism in neoliberal politics and the concealment of this through use of the façade. My research has focused on Thatcherism in Britain, epitomised by the ‘Right to Buy’ legislation that enabled council property tenants to purchase their home from the local authority. This helped to forge a link between dignity and ownership, one that has been intensifying ever since.
We see the effects that such an ethos is having, beneath a façade of social concern and ideas of freedom, we are being separated from each other and entrapped through lack of education and cycles of work and leisure.
My series of paintings with text and borders are inspired by the scale, imagery and format of vernacular English art, in particular the pub sign and worker's union banners. Each one contains an ominous message and humorously reveals a disheartening truth that was hiding behind the façade.
My practice was born from the need of finding a way to face and explore topics such as memory, time and the relation between human beings and the space around them. In the last few years, it has been a reflection in continuous development starting from the intersection between memory, space and time.
These invisible measures influence our lives in a strong way. Time and space are the two main coordinates of memory: something happened in a given time and in a given space. But actually memory has the capacity to undermine these two cardinal points: often we think that we have a perfect remembrance of the shape of an object in a given place or of the face of a loved one, when on the contrary we keep only a general ‘sensation’ of the object, the place or the person.
From there, my practice has then been focused on two different but complementary concepts linked to memory: the fragment and the mould. Our memory is composed of fragments that we try to put together again every time we try to remember something. But the result will never be perfectly adherent to what really happened. Even if the fragments of our memories will have perfect adherence between them, they will always remain fragments of something that at some points was a whole. On the other hand, our memory will always be a mould of what actually was there before: we will be able to replicate those things, but there will always be something slightly different from the original.
In my practice, I am deeply interested in understanding and studying these discrepancies between reality and our memory.
Recently, taking from my previous research, I have been interested in studying the concept of the archive in the contemporaneity. In particular, how it is related to the concept of stratification of time and with our mental archive of memories, referring in particular to Bachelard’s The poetic of space.
‘No time, no place, no body’ is an attempt to reconstitute the figure in space by stripping away contextual information through a process of colossal enlargement of the negative. Consequently, the primitive human photographic forms remaining are left in an ether giving the images an ‘other world’ quality. This abstraction is so complete that reality is nullified, and all that remains is the question: Is it true? In this world existing relations are modulated and new ones are created. The series is an ontological challenge to the truth of the image. The use of traditional analogue photography is particularly apt for this. Some of us have held a faith in it’s verisimilitude, yet it increasingly becomes historical; it’s patina invokes memory and a representation of times past. The media disappears into history as the 'truth' of memory itself is steadily abstracted into oblivion or mythology.
The concept of Rorschach draws inspiration from a test used in psychology, Patients are exposed to a series of cards containing inkblots and asked to respond to all of them.
The Project represents a selection of these cards transposed in a daily life context.
The visitor is invited to 'read' the pictures and share their impression on what they 'see' this process will lead the guest to show a hidden side of his personality.
Valentina Di Berardino
‘Whirlwind’ is a photo series exploring the cyclical nature of abusive relationships.
With 2 women a week being killed by former or ex partners in the UK alone, and 1 in 3 women developing serious mental health issues when leaving a perpetrator, I feel domestic abuse needs to be more often addressed and articulated in varying and emotive ways.
As I await my perpetrators release from prison later this year, I am making work that confronts an ongoing epidemic of abuse within society, passed on unknowingly through generations. I am attempting to rework typical ways of talking about domestic abuse, representing more complex definitions for abused women than just ‘victim’ or ‘survivor.’
Calling upon traditional portrayals of female psychosis in horror films mixed with a hyper-feminine colour palette, there is an ambiguity in genre, situated somewhere between romance and horror, the work questions the differences between past and present, mother and daughter, truth and lies.
A number of couples get questioned on their relationship with each other, exploring there commitment, strength and most importantly love. Depicting newly formed couples alongside couples lasting for over 50 years now.
i’m only yours
in this bed
you’re only mine
in this room
this is where
we don’t belong anywhere
and then we fade
like the shadow on the wall…