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Showing posts from April, 2010
Art Zorro on a rescue mission in Grand Palais de Paris
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Berlin, John Holten
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We speak to you in one language and to you in another, we do not wish to give ourselves away or limit ourselves, we are open and ready to confuse because we are not at home, because yes we are homeless, because we do not know each other, because we contain multitudes and our hatreds define us more than our loves. We are three, maybe four people and do not stop to think that you know any one of us better then another, or that even your slight acquaintance with one of us blocks out the others, we are unknowable in our infinities like the sounds of an orchestra going out of tune or brave men dying slowly in fear. We have no voice, we have no accent, we come from nowhere and have no centre, we are unknowable and shapeshifting with one face for you and one for anyother because we wish to please ourselves by deceit and falsehood and the changing of our failing identity. We pass the nights in fire with each other like dancers gone wild to the music of their ancestors enhanced through th...