E. by T.A.

Crisis Of Rejection

(Taken from The Bodies Artist)

In my rare apparitions in public known in my comparisons the same attitude that is reserved to a rotten watermelon. The wedge, tastes it and the spit or to the limit I throw back it. Perhaps it is my primitive aspect that determines this or perhaps I am me that I want to appear a rotten watermelon. Retrograde. In any type of discussion can come me to find in these exceptional occasions as a rule me I couple to be the retrograde one of the situation. For the one whom he listens and for the one who is chatting with me. I have to be to discuss at least a couple of hours to hope for to capsize the situation there and it arrives the watermelon. I don't know if Apollinaire was serious when he affirmed that it is beautiful being primitive without being him. I was, a couple of months ago, to a show near an ex syndical center, to Rome. An ugly show as little. I was letting to Alexander that accompanied me noticed how much beautiful instead those walls were. White shiny. Without look. Anagogiche. A teacher of history of the art, present there, also him, behind us, feeling my appreciation on the walls thundered: the work are important not the walls. All were turned verse of us as to say: but it looks how Barbaric that have happened in this temple. Good Teacher. As if the walls were not also them human work, as if the walls came from another I husk to serve as witnesses to us while we are giving near to us in continuation. I had to throw in dance mathematics, Mandelbrot particularly to reestablish the things as they were. Of however the poor teacher had been being for the times of Afro that was not occupied of escrementificazioni and it was me enough easy to make to retract who listened us, in circle, around us. Cazzo the primitive you have seen that has thrown above to us from the walls? him it is really strange, really strange. The teacher's daughter, also she sat down in circle, saw a rotten watermelon and it told me: Why don't you explain better her to me this theory on the walls? I asked to Alexander to deal with the teacher and I slipped away it to me with his daughter. She cut me, she tasted me and it spit out me for earth. I have seen Valentina graft a small heart painted by one friend of his on a cloth inside the abdomen of a thread-like woman created by her. A self-portrait and a transplantation of work of art, human. You/he/she was frightened by the possibility of rejection and it didn't say a foolishness. Also in the transplantation of organs this risk subsists, I told her, but not for this transplantations are not made. Rather he/she thinks to when the science will have set I can shake my hand to you in exchange for your orbits, I can see how you and you you can touch the things that surround you trying what I try me. He/she thinks how beautiful. But will they ever make it do? But I don't know it, we will move without putting them to the current one, we won't ask permissions. How is your self-portrait? Survivor seems. Has not you/he/she thrown back? No. Do you want my orbits? Legionary from an apprenticeship near Sol LeWitt, Valentina decided to expose his transplanted self-portrait. Only that. The walls of the turned space redounded of white. It seemed a marriage without monogamy. She asked to me if I wanted to expose with his body something of mine or somebody else. I realized a sequence of 15 digital frames that they withdrew her in the most disparate ways and I stamped them on a transparent surface with the plotter in way of not ruining the marriage of the walls. I put every lines of the sequence on CD-rom and I delivered the whole Valentina material. To the show everything almost went for the best. Happy walls to have married, dense public, animated Valentina, master of the space bendisposto, sonorous column of the discreet environment. Only the words exchanged with a lady spoiled me the mind. Initially it seemed to me as to already have her known. Good, in draught, shoes open with a small callousness on the right little finger. For this when it was approached for asking to me some information on the suspended things in wall I was prodigal of words. I explained to him that the side CD-rom of every transparency would have allowed to each invent again or to integrate to his/her taste the transparency, to decide its oneness or less and beautiful company. While I was waiting for his reaction the little finger it told me of yes but her furious it started to tell me that it didn't have anybody desire to invent again of it, to integrate of it, to do nothing of it, to me a thing if I like I buy it and enough. Who tells you that me or whoever we have all these desires towards an object. If I wanted to be an artist I would not have come here to buy. She was calmed and seeing that the only one unprovided of side CD-rom was the self-portrait of the small heart in abdomen that she bought. She asked to me to excuse her for the tone of first but when it is too much it is too much and if I thought she had made a good acquisition. I answered of him, as always when these questions do me and above all I didn't reveal to him that also its self-portrait had not a CD-rom to side but transplanted inside. In his eyes I didn't see rotten watermelons and we left each other this way. Three days after the master of the space asked a little bit strange to us with a voice for telephone to pass from him. Also me? I told Valentina. He is thought that you are my agent. A half trouble has happened it told us his master. A person (so much for well it seemed) with the excuse to see to monitor the transparencies of Valentina he is brought away all the CD-roms. Is it possible to reprint the CD-roms? Otherwise for the authentic ones it touches to make the photos of the plotters and it is a disgust. Valentina said ah. I responded. Stupid, I am the agent, the authentic ones you have him in hand you, the pictures if the gentleman is brought away them. The lady that had acquired the self-portrait transplanted of Valentina, called the master of the space to have the number of Valentina. It told Valentina that one of his two children had dirtied the cloth to the height of the abdomen small heart and he/she wanted a restauration. Leave it so lady answered as Valentina it's accustomed to be transplanted.