ACTION IS NOT LIFE - Pascal Gibourg

As it advances, the tale pushes itself to the limits of its interpretation. It isn't that it should never make sense, but it is that we never know which direction it takes to lead to its goal. Everything happens, for the spectator of the "real". He observes without understanding the continued walk of men not guided anymore by the wish of ending or I don't know what idea of achievement. The huge abysm that separates us from life as from the invisible hand driving our destiny, this is what fascinates us in the "come to be " not something happening in time, but this: the empty space of time in place that exists in each things. This is where it all starts, repeats itself, by the manifestation of the power of hesitancy. Showing the body as an open scene, would I dare say propitiatory? All the mystery consists in the correspondence maintained by the action of the body on the exterior world and the interior overthrow implicated by the action when it is complete: complete standing for production as well as waste. What is wasted in the action, or what is offered, to not say, immolated, to obtain forgiveness? But maybe I am being misunderstood: I am not talking about something to forgive, anything that should be forgiven; I am talking about time as power of the emptiness of space revealed by the body when it hesitates and wastes; this is about a destiny that accomplishes itself on the condition of interrupting its continuance as I would describe a river that can stay "river" as long as it leaves its own bed and throws itself in the sea. I am talking about a body victorious on himself but not victorious over the annoyance which is in last analysis the motor of its own surpassing. I am talking about a struggle of course, but also more of the peace it keeps and protects from its chaos and scream.

Pascal Gibourg Paris, 1998.

 

THE THOUGHT WAS THE SPACE OF THE DECISION - Vanessa Briggs

The creation of the universe revealed by its own multiplicity.
The internal logic of a world offered on a white sheet.
Red blood, white plaster and black soil.
An unbearable opera song.
Dinosaurs liberating the song by a scream.
Destroying the larynx.

Vanessa G. Briggs, 1999.