For me the slaughterhouse is a place where there is a true identification between
the treatment of the animal and the man. The wars for territorial, economic and
political interests, have sacrificed the lives of many people. Nowadays, this has taken
a different form, with human slaughterhouses, where human organ trafficking
occurs. They take advantage of other innocent people and treat them in an
inhumane and savage way in order to make profit. On the other hand, the irrational
society is pushing many people to buy their organs. The crisis that exists at all levels
makes economic operators to run everything. Morality is adjusted and so is logic.
The body, however, is the trace which survives death.
All people are equal to each other because they are bodies. They are vulnerable and
therefore there is nothing to fear more than the pain itself. The true face of violence
is not the act but the pain. Thus, the violence keeps death in a prominent position
and maintain the fear, in which the authority of power is based on. A society which
protects its members of their human instincts, and uses violence in many forms as
something normal for ulterior purposes.
The industries of body and madness heartbreakingly stigmatize human existence.
The rational limit, the correct, the moral, is shaken. My work is filtered within the
intersection of space, where the remains of our operations are gathered. I attribute
the visible flow of our vulnerability, using the place as a magnification of my own
work. The slain body keeps resistance to gravity, while the vibrant one which is
fighting reaches underground. The catharsis isolates the discolored material. The
mind has no color, and when it acquires status, it removes the reality. Neurons are
death shields because you think and therefore you exist.
Redemptive flows from the death act now recompose a distilled body. The spectator,
entering into an area that feels the presence of a violent death, must face the fear
and his own limits. The act is brutal but on the contrary death itself liberates the
body and soul. What is our choice? How close is madness with death? The point is
that everything is fluid, discolored by common sense. Marching at the intersection
with the racks, it remains free to determine whether the threshold is separating,
joining or does not exist.
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