stories are important. faces are too.
and some stranger tells them stories both open faced and hidden eyed, for both faces and masks can carry reality and deception at the same time.
masks might be a protection of the real self, a projection of a persona in front of you. but they can be an expansion of the inner as well, turning the inside out over your second face, a disguised exposure of what would never show in your real features: openness in the cover of the other face. and it can speak what my mouth cannot say…
and more: some use mascs to become the other and none, to archeconnect, for inhabitation by the gods (or demons), to bridge the gap to temporary transformation layers, changing the masc bearer and then spitting you back out from the shadows of the inner lining.
the stranger embodies those shapes, states and connotations…as
the one next door and very far away
the other of sudden connection and sudden loss
the kindness of the street
the roughness of the gutter
a thief, thug, deceiver- and reliever
the other of your fear and hopes
the other of your dreams
a backdoor out and a secret path in
another consciousness in room
a 3rd body
all gender and none
familiar stranger and uncanny unknown
but sometimes you have to go beyond the stories.
cos the in and out of skins also points at the packages and wider frames these specific bodies reside in. all the attributions and judgements strung to a representation.
thus the stranger explores improper affiliations, wrong stuffings, and guilt by association. sees how the other is constructed. how them cannot choose the face them seen in. the thingification and othering. that homemade alien coming with that extra 10% of fear (for free!).
it’s dark but home: embossed images as false positives or negative staining- not every delimiter is a valid separation.
so we chew and devour different slices. or same slice on a different pizza. same chunk in a different frame- different context, different meaning. loosen ties on packages that seem to go together. repeat ourselves in a different way. as 3rd option, an undefined state tween 0 and 1.
it’s liminal business- strange images on the edge and outside of human mad(e) logic and systems. everything makes sense, everything is absurd.
pics of ambivalent clarity. of growth and corrosion, pleasant dystopies. beauty and pain, a ‘terrible glory’. the remote and the too close. plastic with a human touch. dirty bling. meaning in trash and trash in meaning. no part is wasted. life is messy so why bother? fuck signal, let’s noize.
paradox pop for this wonderfully weird and inextricable life.
no single skin is the stranger and no single song is the ceremony. but after sunset we unfold the pictures step by step and make the dance and stories last over a couple of nights: the others have so many sights to show us. and we all need those flashing limbs- so everybody dance who’s still standing on the 8th day!
each performance will spotlight only patches of the painting but in time they open up another space- a vasteness that is horrendous and indispensable. a crossing in and out of something else that engulfs the human experience. trying to set the clock to another time zone without falling out of bound. saying goodbye to the original “i” while holding onto common ground.
falling into otherness…into full expansion outside of yourself, your situation. you feel it but you can’t name it. beyond tongue, beyond sight. the other is a dark land, the other is the very new. the other is close and unseizable. and them will always be talking to you and them will always remain silent.
and then them call back that stranger…back to grow in the backyard, the backyard of your mind: everyone can wear the masc, everyone can try the faces.
for all shyronics, melanchoholics and lucky charms. for those who wanna venture some crossings- with an inner call but no direction. a door in for those who have trouble with the sweet. if your inner “me” is your en-emy but you still wanna reach an agreement. for those who don’t belong, those who have no hold in time, those who lost all implicitness. if you try to make it one piece of meat but can’t squeeze it into shape. for all odds and edges and a healing hand coming from unexpected places. come join us inside when the outside is too crazy.
tunes for torn souls and hungries who want to taste it all:
meat. maschine. more.
ready for darker tides?
ready for the uncanny valley?
ready for destruction?
…and some fun?
then tune in, tune in for crooners and screams- toys, trash and trauma and lunar machines…
dark but home (false positive and negative staining)
bacon, lend me a face
next in line
love for a stranger
better alien than human (plz cnfrm hmnt)
3rd body: running out of tongue
dorsoduro ://: heavy hands
nyci- come out to play
until it stops