In my underground
Записки из подполья is the title of a famous Dostoevsky's monologue. The story is known: an unnamed narrator - from his basement - is for the world and himself. Double uncertain of the author, it stirs up in one sentence infinite which raises and lowers, which elevates and destroys, a dizzying union of opposites.
The work translated into French as early as 1886 has seen a long line of titles more or less faithful, wobbling at the option of tastes and editorial changes: The voice underground, underground Spirit, My Underground Notes written in the basement , The basement until the most recent translation Notes from the basement . Vladimir Nabokov, meanwhile, proposed a radical " Souvenirs from beneath the floor" . All titles reflect the shelled elusiveness of Записки из подполья , this black hole, this object totally fantastical, typically Russian, remained intractable and without definitive incarnation in French. Faced with this lack of consistency, we chose to retain the title My underground thing here as a moment of crystallization, which brings together artists Russian and French artists in an enclave away from daylight imposed.
Project incisions took place in March 2010 in the heart of winter Moscow under the canopies filled the Fabrika factory appearance Soviet and still operational.
Gagin Russians Alexey and Anna Kuznetsova in the French company Jérôme Bouchez, Eliza Alton Mishino Magri and took their marks in the interior in charge of frost without landmarks or boundaries, integrating among activities of the working place.
the threshold of the Parisian summer, the event continues at The Random, begins its descent into a labyrinth secular proportions much tighter: an ancient underground standing near the river which empties the Bievre, a river as mysterious qu'occultée.
Trays Soviet industrial cathedrals supported by sturdy metal pillars had different perspectives of those of the apses of cavernous limestone depths of an old house that the passage of time has corroded. Where patterns can arise massively stretched in height and length, impose their scope of action, they are constraints here at the rally under the arch, in a dull and subdued atmosphere. The sounds also resonate differently. However, the same breath of the great outdoors can flush a small place. The notion of dimension capsized between the recesses and vanishes in the cavities.
The spirit of Basement is noticeable in these corners. Posterity the text that Dostoevsky did make interpretations that would reduce it to thank you. Yet Записки из подполья perpetuates its status as the light shining dark.
It is there, spread, dissolved infused, present and elusive. It is noticeable in in Magri Eliza carved with a tulle veil of steel slashed that draws its shadows and spiky rhythms decal. It is found in the place of long faxes, soiled remnants of obsolete office Alton Mishino. It shines in the dark silhouettes rendered in the scapular films Anna Kuznetsova: these spectra is a time that resurgence. One can recognize in these images embedded black ink reflected each other in the abyss into a silhouette lost when suddenly where affect the recrosses and transit.
He reach into moving images of Jerome Bouchez, in this mysterious Gear cell lights spinning smoothly in the slow rotation created by the mere fact, the white-blue-red based on blue red white and a challenging layout of dreamlike and haunting sweetness that offers all imaginable variations.
venture into a cave, is groping in the dark and experience the exhilaration of heights: vaulted skies, rarefied oxygen, echoes multiplied, tactile roughness contact the mineral rocky.
clad bodies that will come back to rub sometimes dusted, dusty, studded. Then came a kind of precipitate of the most random, gold or ash.
Stephen Moreaux
0 comments:
Post a Comment