| |
INTACT is an enormous space covered
in mud that the person experiencing the installation must walk through:
an immense mire that is watered daily, varying its appearance.
The person passing through this unstable surface is kept in suspense,
not knowing whether they will sink deeper than they imagine, and
being unsure of this makes them afraid to get dirty or flecked with
mud, to end up embarrassed at being dirty. They run the risk of
altering what is intact: their own image. The installation is an
enormous threat that targets the rigid patterns of conduct we have
been brought up with; a stability that when disturbed triggers a
series of obsessive behaviours that the person directs all of their
attention to, punishing themselves for having allowed such a mistake;
angry, impotent reproach that comes from intolerable frustration.
INTACT is a metaphor for the terror of instability, of unbalanced
emotions that wash over us at that moment of contrast when we compare
ourselves with the immensity we face, the other, that makes us feel
small because of its strangeness. Hidden below an apparent beauty
of reflections and bucolic pools, behind delicate and subtle lights,
is a danger that threatens the intact image of ourselves that we
must preserve. |
|
INTACT advises us with its presence
that it is impossible to conserve this image unaltered. The folds
in the mud, the way it behaves, the organic texture that characterises
it give us the impression that it is alive, creating the sensation
that it could climb out, even trap us and prevent us from fleeing.
Fear of getting ourselves dirty, of stepping into the mud and perceiving
how our feet sink, displacing the water in the mud and getting drops
of it on ourselves...this is an installation that would attract
a child to jump and play in the puddles – an experience that
an adult is not allowed, that inhibits him and makes him wary before
he even enters it. This is an installation that targets the obsession
with preserving everything intact; it reveals the intransigence
we have toward ourselves and others, showing our intolerance with
frustration and failure,–both of them suffocating sensations
that back us into a corner and embarrass us. They humiliate us and
sink us still further into a dense fictitious mud.
+ video
|
|
 |
alex sanjurjo rubio