At the end of a melancholy world
men read the newspapers.
Indifferent men eating oranges
that flame like the sun.
They gave me an apple to remind me
of death. I know that cities telegraph
asking for kerosene. The veil I saw flying
fell in the desert.
No one will write the final poem
about this private twelve o'clock world.
Instead of the last judgment, what worries me
is the final dream.
-
This is a movement and sound performance that explores the distortions of a moment, a moving paralysis, through the concept of Habitus. The stretch, contraction and fragmentation of a moment’s borders, the expression of bliss through chaos. The presentation of a moment on infinite stasis.
An end, as opposite to doom, is the only certainty we carry through life. An end is a fast cut, a brief exhalation of conclusion. Doom is the everlasting moment that precedes the end. Doom’s perception of a lost present is inscribed in and reproduced in our everyday experiential spaces, as ideas of what is yet to happen, but never comes, as a form of paralysis. A distorted moment which’s borders are so blurred, that it passes and constantly renews itself without notice. Something that stretches itself until it becomes something else.
Doom is a state of Entropy.
This work was developed having in mind the pace in which we live constantly in, reflecting the experience of an eternal end through chaos.
This work is created as something that repeats itself and through repetition becomes something new. You can access it any time, and as you refresh the page, you will get an entirely different order of videos and sound, which is randomly combined by an algorithm.