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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-04-23 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] |
Exhibition
Wooden legs that soar under the dome with the dignified name: Pico della Mirandola; all around the critics pronounced under the wheels, hanged on the magnificent epaulette of some forgotten generals. Smart thoughts perceived straight by the hungry ones in a cultural exposure with inverse sculptures – you can not steel them, because they hardly hold not to break in a forgotten corner. Some ash lies in glass spheres and odd sign is kept on the length of a time line! Lead threads make together a giant chandelier that spins upon the rot minds… Cups made by stone filled with ice flowers. Sense of a bell singing under the silenced mist. Steps walk in the quietness of the huge room lost in the past, in the middle of the night. There’s a lady that was buried between bricklayers. Plastic nudes filled with a painful delight. Agnostic medium spread in the mind that roughly was falling. There are thousands of blind endeavours, and ugly beings – tall and thin! On a dirty bench sits an old man, wasting time without any other presence; and the hall is a basket: fruits always in absence…
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