Strange place – so peaceful and strange. You breathe in the cold air that greets you with the creak of the door at the entrance. The human psyche needs to maintain a neutral ph, falling into reverie and rising again to complete concentration, as regular as breathing. That’s why we seek relief in the diffuse rays of light that refract and create a subtle diffuse illumination. What are you doing here? Why do you spend months chasing this place?
These are strange ecosystems. Floating islands. Each one has its own microcosm, a prison in which it’s sometimes hard to break free from atmospheric conditions and complexities. You float inside, leaving the chaos partly behind. On the other side of the building, the layered rows of windows continue, and with them the paradisiacal illusion returns. This time accentuated by human interventions, expressing a desperate relationship with Eden – a double fall, where the loss of innocence and the expulsion from paradise initiated a compulsive transformation that began with the soil and progressed lower and lower, down to the molecular level, in an attempt to transform the planet into a home: one that might one day bear the fruits of goodness. In this way, the earth was excavated, and complex composites were broken down into their individual elements, until the atom itself appeared, not as a bulletproof particle, but as a territory to be divided – to be moved. In the space between the two halves of the universes, glass met with a perfect refraction of rays.
Every place has a centre. Through it, we go deeper into the heart of space. The pulsating contraction of the individual atria and chambers calms our minds and we slowly become part of the room. We return to a comfortable state of immaturity and the space becomes more and more an intimate retreat. We can smell the scents of memories of childishly instinctive thoughts that are irretrievably gone. We reshape feelings into new meanings and try to rewrite them in our minds, lest we accidentally remember where they originated. In a hidden place that each of us knows about but few have ever seen lives a piece of unexplored immaturity. The other self that is always a guest everywhere and never itself. Later, we will smooth out all these unruly shards of experience and transform them into our own image, which will eventually be detached enough to live with.
Text: Světlana Malinová