Some say art offers a higher quality of life. in real terms… life without art has no quality..

Ab-out and Y nots

Alchemoptics

 

 

Finally latent images beckoned their ghostly presence slowly rising to the surface until the tip of the film reached the back of his mind. He could no longer resist and summoned the chiaroscuro from the translucent depth. Hence, the memories of a particular event emerged to reclaim reality far beyond his control and outside his knowledge. What he saw through the lens was ever hardly what he saw in the picture. None of these moments were fragmented, on the contrary, they were exponential and extrapolated junctions like crossroads seen in fast forward motion; on the other hand each was complete in themselves, each a cell containing the code of synchronicity…meaningful coincidence. Photography he thought enabled this uncanny alliance between alchemy and quantum physics, flirting with back holes, worm holes and white holes as the dramatic tension was released while the gaze having reached its apparent target turned inward like a boomerang interlocked with a prey that will resist arrest and consumption and continue its journey beyond the caller.

 

Copyright © Pascal Ancel Bartholdi 2011

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Once upon a time…or upon a fine line, the idea of a new persona arose, in a context where I felt it was demanded of me, for elements fell in utter disorder, clogging the beauty of sterile spaces.

I became a curator. But what was it I curated? The event took place almost accidentally, despite long laborious preparations. There was an underlying wish to direct a movie inside my life, and arrange the images outside of it, images, objects belonging to strangers who collaborated for the ride…and slowly separated themselves from the show-reel trailer, once the last remains of the day, and the night that preceded and followed, had dissolved in the smog.

There will be no  ‘follow up’.  The participants who in their practice could have answered the questions alluded to in this gathering of symbolic fragments, although ridiculing any general concepts of artful communication, slid into the meandering trail of Sharon’s frail bark, each carrying an oxygen bottle and a white flag .

There is no assurance as to the initial idea ,now devoid of sense. There is no certainty it will not take unsuspected shapes as it smoulders through time and space, perhaps gaining volume and momentum and return to us, to our greatest surprise as a red hot question mark sitting upon a flat line, the dot, a vanishing point closing this phrase for ever…so slowly…

… to deconstruct the conventional myth of progress, and replace it with the most impossible truth.

2017

 

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