The Same Sweat is Still Flowing Through the Same Pores, #1 (Water)
2021, video installation
video essay (17’16”), 16mm film loop (54”), vibrating object fill with water, melting ice block on the street
Text will be available soon
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*the exhibition text
by Domen ograjenšek
Production and exhibition:
City Gallery Ljubljana
The truth of light, volume, time, space.
The truth of vibrations, comings, departures,
movements, touches, contacts, skin, bodies.
Polymorphic, magical, material, fleshy.
Plural, but not schizophrenic.
In a constant passage that flows through all things,
all beings, all entities.
Under what we call skin, name, sign, slavery, freedom.
I remember a tiny, little tennis racket whipped by my wrist. The movement passed into the arm, the torso, and in the end, the legs made the last push. It wasn’t the end, it was the beginning. In the last push, it’s starting a second contact or join called a blow begins. This one is always new, always first, unknown. Always the same, but different.
My hands and forehead are still sweating like they were sweating back then, in my sleep, I squeeze my right palm and jaw. My muscles twitch, they react to memory, I can’t keep up with them. When I wake up, I swallow my saliva and try to follow it - past the soft palate, through the esophagus, throat, into the stomach - without being in any other departure. Is it this, this here, or this, or that, I wonder.
I look at the shadow of my body, the sharpness of which gives way to a scattering of pixels that travel lightly across the table, across the floor, all the way to the closet, leaving a gentle trail of flesh behind.
Who is alive here?
And I go to the freezer for an ice cube.