Summer Madness!

mental diet 2
Every year. Everybody. Every - {BODY}. Summer approaches. Obsessions. The beach. Reality check. A contest? It is supposed to be a place for relaxation. Sand. Wind. Water. Sounds. Words. Flying through the air. Horizons. Dreams. More thoughts. It is not a contest. It is a beach. Yet it is summer. Obsessing people. Diets. "I need to be on a diet, I will eat only carrots for a while. And salad. I have to be on a beach in a month". So what? What are their parameters for comparison? A Modigliani statue? I don't like to obsess. I love food. I love good food. I don't care about comparisons. I don't like contests.
It is a beach after all we are talking about!
Sand. Water. Sounds. Words. Flying through the air. Horizons. Dreams. RELAXATION! If you are obsessed with weight don't lay dawn at the beach next to a Modigliani. Think about Botero instead. Problem solved!

What are you looking at?

What are you looking at?
Are you just gazing at something or are you simply staring into space?
The unknown. The Uncanny. The mystery that unfolds right before you.
Thinking deeply about the void.
Constructing walls inside the imaginary.
Transforming the silence into noisy thoughts.
Flatness into inhabitated mountains.
Blue into pink.
Colors into Black and white.
What are you thinking about?
Nothing? Everything?
But then, why would I care.
Maybe you are just waiting for the bus.
In your black and white world.
Next stop "Mystery Plaza nr. 28"

The File of your Life.

Letters. Words. Messages. Signs. Advertisement.
What if we start over?
Same letters.
Mix. Mix. Mix. Mix. Mix.
Different Words. New Signs.
{RE}- Arrangement(s).
What if you do that in your life.
With your day?
Seconds. Minutes. Hours.
Conversations. Paths. Feelings. Informations. Collections.
Your Life.
L - I - F - E
MIx. Mix. Mix. Mix. Mix. Mix.
All informations are processed.
Your memories are still the same.
You just stack them in different Files in your sub-conscious.
The F-i-l-e. Of L-i-f-e.

Localizing Thoughts

the eye

A Person. The Eye. A Camera. The lense. Parallel entities. Eye vs. Eye. The City. The Body. Parallel volumes. Buildings vs. Bodies. The city. A mirror. Reflecting Hi-{stories}. Thoughts (distorted?) Trends. Ideas. Experiments.
Facades reflect moods, like bodies. They change moods. They have moods. Weather. Materials. Constantly changing their appearances and our perception of them. Shiny happy facades. Faces. Weather. Life. Do we also make the urban environment change its perception of us?
Layers. Juxtapositions. Ephemeral over permanent. Constructed over imagined. Oneiric over real { w-h-a-t is r-e-a-l}. Spaces. Places. Thoughts and behaviours.
Like a double exposure photograph the everyday is indeed a juxtaposition. Of event. Of moments we cherish or not. Of details we carefully put together creating the final piece. Our world.
Walking in the streets we become a new layer writing our stories on them. Our wandering. Our stops. Our dérives. Our un-{conscious} maps and plans. The ground is our new drawing. Everyday tabula rasa. We start again. By the end of the day, of the week, of the month of the year we own a huge collection of drawings. The everyday our museum where they hang on its imaginary walls.
A wall. A hand holding a camera. Eye capturing eye. I had a plan. We had a plan that day. The plan was double exposure. In this photo I can localize our thoughts in that particular moment. The place is remembered by them. Not by the place itself. Thoughts and maps. Thoughts and places. Localization. GPS system can easily localize them. But GPS cannot yet localize thoughts and feeling we experienced during our wanderings. Not yet. Juxtaposition or {Just}-a-{position}

Floating in Space


Floating in space. My street my river. Traffic. Flowing. A reflection. As I look myself in this fluid mirror I can see a distortion. As water creates new images. Like surreal paintings. On the street architecture imposes itself as a reflection of society. Modern. {Post}-Modern. {Super}-Modern. Futurist. {De}-Constructed. Obviously a distorted reading. Drops of different languages. As water. They complete my Urban Realm. As language creates new sentences. New streets. New facades. New images. And I absorbe. Like in water I float in space. My Spatial Ocean. I listen to the silent sound of the wall. I imagine new languages. New reflections. New distortions. I feel a tidal force. I guess it's a high one. I just hit my head on the ceiling.