My body in ropes offers endless aesthetical and metaphorical possibilities and interpretations. In every aspect of the experience, I want to consider my body as the main subject – both the image of my body, and my body as an image. My body as a material that can be bent and submitted into a form, and my body as a material that will resist the form and submit it to its own language.
The idea of my body as an organised structure of shapes, limbs, angles, textures and lines- collides with the experience of my body as a disorganised and fluctuating process of internal and external perceptions. The challenge is to find news models and forms for this experience, to offer a new structure to support the inevitable chaos of perceptions, to create an image that has form without removing the blur, the distortion, the vibration.
An image that is both a physical and an emotional landscape, for the subject as well as for the viewer.
Every planetary body is surrounded by it’s own gravitational field, which can be conceptualised as exerting an attractive force on everything within and around.
From the instant I was born until the moment I will die -to move, to sit, to stand- my body alone must fight the gravitational power of an entire planet.
My body in ropes remains inevitably subjected to gravity, which imposes a defined and confined space of movement between a point of origin (up) and a point of attraction (down).
Even if it tries to ignore it, or defy it, my body knows through all its existence that it is condemned to ultimately collapse and disappear. The image of a collapse is of an abrupt failure, a material breaking down, falling downward and inward.
At the crossroads of up and down, the probability for a collapse is immense.
But it is in this space that new forms are possible.
We can search for a breaking point where the body would rather fall upward, into an extension rather than into a fold. An intense breathe rather than a failure.
In this space, between up and down, Gravity becomes a grace.
I want to help my body remember that nothing can endlessly rise. In this space between up and down, my body bends to the ropes but resists the universal imperative of constant movement. Thanks to the fall my body must accept that it can only be where it is, in its rise as well as in its fall. In this battle to contain itself, my body contracts or stretches time and space in search of its own truth.
In this space, I am reminded that it is not the ground that I fight, but the collapse.
It is not the fall that I fear, but the impact.
It is not dying that I resist, but disappearing.
It is not the end that I mourn, but the absence.
Held by the ropes, my body stands without a ground.
It falls, but does not fear any impact.
Elevated as a living memorial of itself, my body defies its own fading and dematerialisation,
and the Fall becomes a hopeful ode to Immortality.