Walking the Gray Area

to change the point on the map

to leave the frame known

to move sequences, loves, smells and sounds

shell effect

that new space

like white bubbles

a parenthesis

a silence that allows you to listen,

to feel, to think,

to construct.

jorge macchi. argentine visual artist…

amsterdam

 ciudad cansada (tired city)

a part of the park

2006

brooches (to sew to your clothing)

370 x 150 x 2 mm

zink, paint, thread, needle

nelli, it’s good that you came back! now. it’s a little difficult to run again but I’m working on it … why do you choose the latest pictures?

Dear Fran,

How is your working going on?

I’m working with aluminium.

something in between

image and unreachable

there and not-there

Greetings from Pori, Finland.

A town where I have not been.

Feels like being abroad.

Seen an exhibition by Zineb Sedira in Pori Art Museum about identity and immigration. Look at

http://www.poriartmuseum.fi/eng/exhibitions/

http://www.zinebsedira.com/

I found myself excited about reading posts from other groups that spoke of the superposition of layers and reviewing our old posts, I saw that we also talked about it. therefore, I decided to group words = meaning.

Layers
Dig
Find
Remove
Discover
Silent silhouettes
Maps
Roads
Networks
Identidd
Crosses
Emotions

Dear Francisca,

Your list of words made me think of

I’m looking for traces

in snow

in landscape

in jewellery which is found in flea markets

lost identities

lost stories

Forest never leaves me

even while living in a city

today at 2 pm

collecting different lines

while walking

carrying things in my pockets

under my warm pullower

next to skin

Carrying things yesterday made me think of…

Continue reading marks of a wooden bench in the snow

marcando territorios (entre mi marido y yo)

van apareciendo las imagenes en la superficie, como cuando brota el agua del suelo.

empiezan a materializarse las sucesivas capas de lo intercambiado.

y así empieza a aflorar una idea…

mi mapa es mi propio cuerpo. porque todo lo que mudo cada vez que cambio de ciudad esta en él. no en los objetos, ni en la ropa, ni en las joyas, ni en las cosas que nos rodean sino en los abrazos, las miradas, los recuerdos… las marcas quedan en este cascarón que me proteje y me sugiere lo que la conciencia no quiere ver.

the images are appearing on the surface, as when the ground water springs.
coming into existence of the successive layers exchanged.
and so begins to emerge an idea …my map is my own body. because everything that  i moved when i change the city it’s on it. not in the objects, or clothes, or jewelry, or things that surround us but yes in the hugs, the looks, the memories … marks left in this shell that protects me and subject me what conscience will not see.