Tearing away the veils that cover everything, skins that clothe us and clothes that represent us, layers of a shield that protects us and identifies us with what we want to be. Behind a diffuse veil we show a representation of our role, the actors are on stage and the theatre is full. Schleiermacher collects the veils from the floor to re-dress them in a frame and reflect, as if in a mirror, the spectator naked of disguise.

The passage of the body drags the matter around it, generates by contact a void, a non-presence, which ends up drawing it in space. The colours fill in the reserves, layer by layer the pigments give the scene content and delimit it. The trace of one’s own existence traps the time lived. It freezes the present action, built from the past, and stops to observe how it will lead to the future.

Boxes of earth are piled up, containers to hide, sort and classify what we are. Boxes to forget what we were, boxes to store in a corner and keep but not open.

Flying towards the gods Icarus melted the wax from his wings, today the heat is given to him from the illumination of artificial nights. Flying towards the gods, the wax on Icarus’ wings melted, today the warmth comes Melted butter flying from the heat of a flashing spot of light. The balance within the imbalance on the tightrope tied to the finite, marks the tension of the undecided walk. Hang on the rope the dress for a dream, clothes for the princess illusion for a day. From desire to waking memory. It advances the sequence of human movement. He walks and stops, resumes his walk with the uncertainty of the path marked out on a ground that moves imperceptibly in a different direction.

Transparency represents for a moment the naked reality, in the mirror we can see ourselves in the we have seen ourselves with a different body, playing a new role.

R.C.