Diary of the Parks J-30
It is, when all that remains to my senses is the fleeting and deep trace like a gash, what I retain of a spectacle... or of a man: the preserved void.
renunciation
It is, when all that remains to my senses is the fleeting and deep trace like a gash, what I retain of a spectacle... or of a man: the preserved void.
The body is a stage, a set, a playground and each new sex, the latest toy to unleash passions.
Poetry of micro betrayal, invisible to the eye, but so strongly felt that it takes years to express its substance, to draw its outlines.
When you create in a National Space, you don't meet the public, you meet the State. No artist can seriously claim to be free of it.