Lost in the Haunted House, By Ezequiel Alemian for the show The flight of the white shirt, 2013
An installation is a fiction
An installation is the staging of a fiction
An installation is a fiction set in an abyss
An installation is a fiction that showcases the mechanisms of fictionalisation
An installation exhibits mechanisms of fictionalization
An installation is a fiction that exhibits the mechanisms that have been used to fictionalise something
An installation is a fiction that exhibits the mechanisms of someone that has fictionalized something
That someone is no longer there
That something is no longer there
What you see is a scene
It is the scene of a fiction: an environment enclosed to the outside by thick
curtains, which may as well be covering some windows, some cans,
work items, soft drawers, cds and small paintings and objects on
the drawers
What you see is the fiction of that scene: the signs of someone who has been
working on the staging of a fiction
Behind the curtain: the backstage, the mechanisms
It is the staging of a fiction that dramatises the staging of a fiction
The fiction staged in the staging of the fiction is the genesis of softness.
Jean Lorrain, one of the most published decadent writers, used to play
host to his colleagues in the apartment he had in Paris. The decadents
closed the windows and covered them with thick curtains to keep out any
light or noise from outside. Confined, they got high with ether or absinthe.
The reality of the objects they looked at weakened and softened: that induced in them hallucinations linked with the supernatural. Objects became animate,
metamorphosing and gaining autonomy.
What is the fiction of the hallucination of the softness within that other fiction of
the confinement inside that other fiction of labor in the staging
of the confinement within that other fiction which is the installation?
Or that of importance is something else?
If that is something, who is someone?
Who survives the vertigo of miniaturization, once it has been put in motion?
What is the tragedy of a decadence without a subject?
The way of representation has no exit.
The way of representation does not lead anywhere.
The way of representation does not lead anywhere.
The way of representation does not lead anywhere.