This is the way I see my interior, my heart, my brain, my feelings.
A complex grid that is all, self supported.
Mayor and minor elements, some still on the floor ready to be assembled.
The doors on the wall, an opening on the wall that allows us seeing the interior, the guts.
To see through the walls, what is on the other side of the wall.
To break the wall, open up the barriers, not just to see what is in there, but also to go through them, to enter in to the space, and the next, and the next.
Traces of a Bathtub
The use of things, the life of objects, the daily life.
The skeleton of all my actions.
Daily life bare naked to the bones, to bath, to brush your teeth, to shave. Intimate acts exposed.
Thoughts exposed, to look to one self in the mirror, to meditate in the bathroom, to rest in the shower.
Our life made obvious by the traces of the tub’s daily use.
Above all the collapse of things. To build and to tear down.
The collapse as the construction’s corpse, the fascination to contemplate the fallen body, what was standing, alive.
The pleasure in going to the museum and observe old artifacts, clean bones, same as to enter to a house in ruins and try to decipher the life among the debris.
To rescue life among the debris.
To wake up every morning from the debris.
To wake up and leave the bed as a bunch of debris.
To build up the day and then demolish it at night.
In some dreams I fly, everything collapses, then I wake up from the ruins.
Anxiety and anguish, the nerves and the bile, strings from the face are pulled back, the eyes, the neck, the mouth, the teeth, behind the eyes, the stomach boiling in acids.
I have tear down interior constructions formed along time, in seven years I built and demolished relationships, situation, appreciations, and understandings.
I am standing in front of the rubble of that collapse