“Twist”. Display leaflet.

In “Twist”, the three sheets and the big parent Wall present a modelling session, an autonomous structuring game where the remains of the building work as patterns with which a kind of portfolio of poses is tailored. Their motions now seem more the product of a drift of their own, than of the personal construction (projection) of the “Promise” stage. They are forms that are evidently engrossed in their capacities of movement and sociability, creating a whole repertoire of events spanning the monumental and collapse. Rhythms of dances and appearances in the weightless watery deep of the Mylar paper (unceasing material in which one day they were promised to a building in the Soviet Union). They have moved, are they going to move? … they might even mutate! But that will remain unanswered in this show, because my “Wall of Wonders” ends here. It ends with the last stage of modifications to the building and these three big enlarged sheets. All on frozen stand-by, which for the time being only permits contemplation.

It is a clean finale, clean enough for this mosaic of still adolescent prototypes to have a shot now at their most adult game: that of influence. And seduce, emancipated as they are from the catastrophes that built them from self-pity and self-absorption (see “Wall of Wonders/Promise”). They are ready to awaken associations- with a strange mystic order? With a deviation of botany? … they might even articulate a new language. A secret code, a cryptogram from which you could make a thousand uses or use alterations, ranging from bliss to conspiracy. Quite surely, “they evoke what they might become”. Or recall what they were (this blog that tells their story.https://charogaraigorta.wordpress.com). Such is their autonomy. Their awareness of emancipation.

Just so you know, let me reveal how their puberty arrived. It was a day like today, some months ago, when I sensed “some freewheeling” was coming, a sort of Twist or counter-rotation in the Mylar weightlessness that I had not foreseen. They were movements that did not derive from the formal logic that marked my previous compositions. I understood this from the point when I started to spend more time gazing at the sheets than composing them.

Perhaps, among the thousands of symmetrical caissons in the building housing the headquarters of the Bank of Georgia, and their hours of clippings, colourings, photocopyings and Paper Cement adhesive sessions, a leak was occurring. Or, better still, “the building had been promised a leak”. A present for having supported a function of personal emancipation (Me) with its enraptured structure.

The very same ever mysterious symmetries that linked the axes of the building with my impulses may have eventually unleashed their own will. These symmetries created some sort of artificial horizons (vertical, horizontal, transverse) in which, just like mirages (or their malevolent brother the Iceberg), they concealed part of their nature, their processes and provenance, exposing to view their will to appearance. With this appearance they now show themselves in “Twist”, and I observe it along with the rest.