What I saw was real but I don’t know if it ever happened. What remains is trace and halo, molecules and swarms, some Polaroids and audio recordings. It was a 23. An omen and a mute passed through me and rushed me, and I followed them like a scream explodes the night. Suddenly a tumbling and breathless crest, and I fell down, floating. Hands cushioning the fall. Bones and muscles facing the sky. I open eyelid and enchant. I am overlooked by glass domes, surrounded by crystal spheres, which spread and blend immense projections of sunrises, glows, sunsets, teeming lisergic desert palms, suns, moons, prophets and anchorites. In the distance groups of neon dressed men, strange rituals and biblical scenes, a molecular flow that distributes collective identifications by latitude and longitude rather than individuality. Everywhere concatenations for accelerations, slowing downs, which trigger incessant and multiple becomings. And then the music, a plane of immanence innervated on chromatic and stuttering glossolalias, in which an amplified and mute cantor unravels deliriums and derangements in alternating cycles, dismantlingproducing worlds and languages, a diagram that regulates every fold and every crevice and every volume and every cavity and every nomadism and every life down here, the words before words to inform disasters …
About the prints
All the images were taken with a Polaroid Land Camera and the Fuji FP instant films, therefore every print is unique.
Print size is 8,5×10,8 cm.