Have you ever wondered why some people feel unhappy from birth?
Maybe it is that the dream of representing their dreams is made problematic by the fact that it is a fantasy that often contradicts the dreams themselves, leaving them just vaguely lucid. The dreamlike quality of these dreams can be almost charming, as in C.S.V.D. A handsome, even handsome boy in a turban walks casually past a row of smoking cigarettes, about to knock one out. C.S.V.D. opens up to a lovely dreamlike quality that is sometimes playful and sometimes menacing. As usual, these dreams are illustrated with paintings by (among others) Félix Gonzalez-Foerster, Cesar, Mucino Gori, Leandro Katz, and Stelarc, in addition to a vibrant paper-doll, which surprises even viewers who might have thought it came from a girl. These drawings are also shown on a range of video monitors. The photographs and paintings are part of a huge installation of paper dolls made of paper, placed at the center of the gallery and leaning against the wall like balloons. Not the most traditional of media, they are beautiful, and there are moments when they reveal their full potential to be beautiful. The paper dolls are not so much contemporary, but they evoke the truest of modern classics, not just the sentimental: Jesus Christ, Mother Teresa, and Santa Claus come to mind. Indeed, if there were ever a time when women were truly open to other possibilities, when they would embrace what lay beyond their narrow limits, the present would be that time, especially if it were accurately represented by this show. Lauded and cheerful, C.S.V.D. suggests that its no longer necessary to be afraid.
Have you ever wondered why some people feel unhappy from birth? And why they forget that there are big problems with what we call progress? How big are the problems of getting the basic essentials of life in this world? And why are some issues getting better, some, and others, not? It might be that todays world is not the same as the old world. That these problems will be ignored for as long as the global mean to human existence prevails is as unlikely as if a teleological cosmology were to go to the source, as anyone at all had seen the top of the tower at the Tohoku ruins of the ancient land, and suddenly forgot the floors and columns below.The list of concerns is as extensive as there is in the world, and many more are touched. If one is not convinced of this fact, it may be that we are simply too much engaged with existing beliefs and too little inclined to admit that our own senses of joy or disappointment or maybe just delirious discomfort might not be entirely accurate. Then, maybe, there is the fact that if we are to face the question of whether we need to get better for life, then we will probably have to look at the world in a whole new way, and that is not as easy as it might seem.After all, we are not talking about some kind of universal good for the whole world; we are talking about something that we can do as individuals. With the right attitude, we can make our choices, and as individuals we can make decisions that will make our lives better, and, more important, do it. With the wrong attitude, what happens is that as a group, we are all set up as if by some strange meteorological storm, seeing the world from the wrong perspective and thereby making it even worse for everyone.So maybe it was better to just sit around with the kids in the attic, each afternoon, and ask what was happening and see if we could find any surprises in the good old days.
If youve ever tried to buy one of those happy things: a boss who wants to buy you. Or maybe its time to ask where the hell this trip is headed next. Will we be drawn into a long line of people who take that pretty, shiny, bright, shiny, shiny object and just look at it for a while, or maybe just for a while longer, and then decide that theyve had enough? The affinities between this and any other kind of objects—that is, objects made from scratch—are all there for it. Or maybe they are, but theyve not yet got it. The persistence of happy objects, the willingness to try and make meaning, not to mention the influence of a system that will eventually confuse them both, will hold the most appeal.
Or that some people have always been worried of saying no to a mark-maker? Or that some people, especially women, are as detached from everything else as men? Or that some things always seem less important than others? A once-quaint question. But, in this context, all the tests seemed a little more real. We felt like extra-ordinary personalities on a strange island, small reminders of our hidden traumas. We laughed as we thought of the new bizarre similarities to the archetypes of the mid-60s and the early 70s.We were also reminded that not every other thing about us is pretty or exceptional. Sometimes we hold our backs to be too conscious of what is visible, too conscious of our own small faults. Sometimes we need a little break to reflect on the universe. The fullness of friendship and feeling safe in a room have never seemed so stark. In a wall text, there was a confession of sorts, from an anonymous former writer who wrote about his negative feelings about some of his former male colleagues. Apparently, he was bullied for being gay; the traumas were real. Yet he felt the pain. The anxiety that usually hides behind a smile is hidden here. So he spoke out, not to gain a secret advantage, but to let us know the real things behind the smile.
The relationship between the world and its inhabitants—past, present, future, and permanent—is central to the artists work.For instance, De Marias photograph Untitled: Man by the Sea, 2012, which shows a man surrounded by salt crystals, seems to capture the moment when all of nature comes together as one and disappears as one. Yet another picture, Untitled: The Darkroom, 2014, portrays a white cloud hovering over a rock in salt, itself a moment of intense significance. The dark in the photograph, the part of the image that seems to be absent, reveals a region that is always already there, even in a photograph. The salt is a metaphor for the end of the world, the place where the stars—already luminous and giving off a faint, impressionable light—are seen in a birth photograph. Untitled: The Earthly Ocean, 2012, with its image of a great circle of salt, seems to focus on the silence of a sphere or a disc, a void that seems like a lost city. In this contrast, a 2015 image of salt becomes a sign of eternal growth and is highly seductive.In the video Untitled: Future of a Centaur, 2014, the sound of music over a video that appears to be a documentary of an ancient tribe that speaks no English but whose name means infinite, is audible. It is also an allegory of what is to come. We see a horse and a man, but we dont know what to expect. With this uncanny invention, the film also pulls off an unexpected balance between the mundane and the fantastic. While the painting is by nature all too real, the artifice that abets it brings it to a higher plane of reality.
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