Object nr. 004 (L)

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Object: Object nr. 004 (L)

Term: Circular piece of glass / The object chose me

Property: Jaime Llopis

This object was pick up in the Brussels flea market the day it has been brought to the Natural History Museum of Hope. The person who brought the object decided to make an experiment to find an object of hope. He wanted to be ‘picked up’ by an object that triggered his attention rather then choose an object symbolically. And in this practice resides the hope. The object ‘touched’ the one that was looking for something.
The object has a circular glass shape, it’s hard to know to what it was before, maybe a picture frame.. What is is now , is an object you can see through, that makes something appear through, it’s an in between tool to look, an hinge between resistance and availability.

MENU Anorexic dinner nr.2 (27.12.2013)

MENU

Globalized food ENTREE

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Quinoa with exotic fruits and Tarragon in Vinegar

Ingredients from: China, Japan, Chile, Colombia, Spain and Hungary

Potato SOUP from not traceable source

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Product packed in Holland and bought in Lidl. Grandmother recipe made with love.

MAIN DISH Microwaved Cheese Burger

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Label: Mcennedy, American Way. 95 cent Product

Honest DESERT

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Koliva made with Romanian Pearl Barley (locally produced and brought  to Belgium by the cook.

BON APPETIT!

19.12.2013

Battery 1: But I think working is just a way to recuperate time, as much as “doing nothing is”. For me the practice is “molding time” in  a maternal form. I don’t feel pushed or stressed but I do feel there is something I have to do. And just like I choose to be in the box, I choose my practice as a way to reconnect to what it is I am doing.

Battery 2: Yes… “molding time”. That’s definitely what this machine seems to constantly scream. And this machine is myself and I am the machine. “One thing is sacred for me – and I knowingly use the word sacred – time is sacred.” (He wrote this when he was in prison). Of course Genet is not neglecting space but he is calling attention to relate to space through a molding of time.

If I become more and more this box and it becomes me, I have to think of time as the spirits crossing the walls of my body. And when the battery urges for time to be molded in it, I’m caught in the crack, fissure between inside and outside. My body and yours, the box and the street.