drawing, ceramics

‘moan upon the stones’ was conceived as a correspondence with ‘agony in the garden’. both inhabited a territory of exile – and yet, they communicated. they corresponded at the limits of what was possible, attempting to reveal what they usually concealed.
if ‘agony in the garden’ explored the possibility of being present in moments where no easy promises exist, ‘moan upon the stones’ searched for a way out of a state of tension – one caused by the anticipation of an ending. more than recognizing one another, they bore witness. they placed themselves in each other’s place, unfolding intertextually.
losing one’s reason is generally seen as something negative. losing control is understood as a chaotic descent into animality – an invitation to savagery. but perhaps these losses make room for the resurgence of voluptuousness: a return to the hands, and to bodies that have found pleasure in darkness for more than fifty thousand years. the supremacy of reason was an illusion – one belonging to a relatively recent past. here, moans and stones are freed from ideology and doctrine. freed from production, reproduction, and subordination.
sacrifice means to make something sacred. and so the question arises: it is possible to make things sacred without some form of violence? probably not. some kind of death seems necessary — in order to see the world laid bare, to want to belong to it again, to feel enthusiasm once more. to feel enthusiasm again – a word that means being possessed by a god, or having a god within. and this is overwhelming: the possibility of bringing back what we have torn out of ourselves to place in others. the time has come to return what is divine to the animal – to separate them no longer. the time has come to return to intimacy, to an interiority with the divine that no longer needs to be projected it into an all-powerful, omnipresent apparition.
these were the suggestions of ‘moan upon the stones‘. a philosophy full of breath and nerves, of flesh and bones. an art – whatever form it may take – freed from necessity, and filled with insubordinate friendships. a desire to experiment rather than to dominate. a simultaneous longing for absolute control and for its complete absence. for order and disorder, for obsessive, repetitive and also unpredictable gestures. a desire to know precisely where a work is headed – and to be completely at the mercy of what the hands are doing in the moment, at the whim of what remains of the material, the heat, the pigment. to allow the accident to appear. to permit the creation of disaster. to accept that the outcome will always be ruined – and that it will not be denied an embrace for that reason, but quite the opposite.