Starting from the observation of crumpled papers, going through the realisation of ginger roots casts, up to the experimentation withred-hot needles on expanded polystyrene volumes. We studied shells of empty spaces and shadows, of words folding up; followed the light gliding along the irregular surfaces of the galleries dug inside the yellowed plaster; observed the polystyrene melting, almost dissolving under the touch of the incandescent point, which left scars and burnson the material.
That is our cave.
A conglomerate of hollowed bodies and tracks.
Suddenly I felt like those volumes: a body hollowed out at the same time by images that were penetrating in-depth with vehemence, devouring my soul,
and by memories that were flowing out to fade in silence.
Meanwhile, in my head the idea of an enormous space began to dawn, a landscape composed of those perforated volumes; and being a perforated body, I belonged to that place too.
That was my place.
My place of belonging.
I was climbing, lowering, crawling, clinging.
I was there, sitting on the edges of one of those irregular galleries.
I laid down.
Could that vast place full of holes be a new beginning?
Could it be a pantry of new experiences, of good feelings?
Yes...maybe...
Perhaps there I could have finally chosen what to fill with those galleries. My galleries.
Maybe I could have also decided to leave them empty.
To let the sun rays penetrate inside them
and allow me to explore them better, closer...
as perhaps I had always been afraid to do.