Humanity navigates life together, aware or unaware of who we are and why we are here. Whether we have created our own world or are subjected to a third-party one, it is our universe. We think we know it, yet we are well aware that it does not deeply belong to us. Fiction is often continuous.We believe we possess, command, act, integrate, excel, love, read, know, memorize, use… In other words, we believe we live our own way in our own world—the one we think we created or chose. Or is it merely permitted to us? Or perhaps imposed.
It is all true, for now, but entirely unstable and mutable. Not necessarily by our own fault or volition.
TODAY does not hold true for tomorrow, and tomorrow is already being invented today. We must defend it, master it, or we will be overwhelmed by fear, malice, oppression, thirst, hunger, the desire for certainty, the insecurity of our health, and the restlessness of the future.
Sometimes even by relationships. If not now, tomorrow. Or perhaps already today. The uncertain is our TODAY, right now. Riding the wave of a life so difficult—perhaps impossible—to oppose, we flounder, incredulous and uncertain.
The counterpart? Of course, it exists; it lies in the joys of life. Love, the beauty of nature, the (equally) ephemeral goods running on the ground we walk upon—the very earth we brutally exploit for collective interest or power.
Better then to preserve a memory, a trace; our own. Or even erase all of it. And if we choose to preserve it, so be it. Even partially? Yes, but which memory?
We must select, choosing the when, how, where, and why to remember. Without second thoughts, perhaps with tenderness, cradled by those memories, or with rage for missed opportunities—for the passing of time that we cannot halt, leaving us powerless, translating everything into a destructive ferocity. Gently abandoning or remembering with pain, or perhaps with contempt, a moment already surpassed yet fixing a point.
For better or for worse. Date, hour, place, actor, tools, documentation… To start anew, for a world that will be something else, something different. More beautiful, kinder, uglier, better, worse. We shall see. Meanwhile, let us trace, let us leave a mark. Our mind is perpetually in motion. It never stops. It processes, restrains itself, chases, overtakes, falls behind. It recovers. You cannot reset it! When you least expect it, it reappears, if only for a brief moment, to make you laugh or cry, meditate or decide, rethink or act. It is like awakening from a comatose state only to discover we have crossed the ridge. We find ourselves, sometimes brutally, somewhere else. Often in a different Self. Or in a different world.
Can there be a synthesis for all of this; a representation? Certainly! Let us reflect. Let us condense. Let us begin. We work on a translation, creating a cycle of symbolic works stemming from this uncultivated ground, which become: works by existential subtraction.
Works and objects to be “sacrificed” on the altar of utilitarian denial or actual futility. Destroying or significantly, yet partially, modifying an object that represents itself (icons, everyday objects, but also artworks…) by placing it into a new descriptive context. The author’s name or the object to be “repudiated” remains legible and recognizable, indicating the specific number of the “multiplicity of idea” (not an idem) to be applied onto the new altar—be it a support, a container, or a scene. Yet, always preserving a fragment of the original as a legible testimony of its past. These are the structural elements of what thus becomes a performance.
The “new” object/artwork will be accompanied by a precise description of the event that materializes through the production of the piece. It thereby becomes a unicum, detailing the initial number of pieces subjected to destructuring, dimensions, materials, date of execution, and a pamphlet describing the artistic movement and the inspiring meaning/value of the work, complete with photographs of the piece(s) before and after the artistic action.