'My Father's Second Car is moving..' Installation
Artists | |
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Year | 2022 |
Material | Mixed media |
Size | By request |
Beginning. hello
Allotriophagia is an uncontrollable craving for inedible food. If it is impossible to digest reality, then you need to at least swallow it, hide it in yourself. Eat it to forget. If there is no memory, then there is no time.
Allotriophagy today is unconsciousness.
The starting point of this project was the fantasy of a distant Tropicalia, a large–scale movement in Brazilian culture of the 1950s and 1960s, protesting against the conservative officialdom of the military dictatorship. It chooses "cultural anthropophagy" as its motto — openness, mutual penetration of cultures and languages.
From a Tropicalia that remembers and equally loves Brazilian dances, Hollywood movies, Cuban rum and sauerkraut soup, to a self–contained pleasure machine. From the neuroses of the last century to the unifying absorption of plastic, an alloy of everything with everything. The time machine leaves the mysterious and beautiful tropical forests, moves over potholes, gradually rusting, slowing down, forgetting the way.
The first stop. The Time Machine
In front of us is something, in fact, resembling a time capsule that has never been completed and sealed. She was stuck in a vacuum that had abolished the differences between the past and the future. It contains an impression of temporary layers filled with fragments of media flares, information noise and digital content. A self-contained project has become rusty and dilapidated. A message to the future with a story about the present travels along shaky walkways covered with earth and debris, and gets stuck in a funnel of all-consuming oblivion. The car moves from the central "table" — a panorama, a layout born of the imagination of a collector of everyday garbage — and returns to it. The author of this frozen machinery is obsessed with the idea of creating evidence of the decay of time, which is happening before his eyes. In the center of the layout is, of course, the head of a (tyrant? A scientist? a madman?), drowning in the swamps of timelessness, an outside mind that can only produce replicas of itself.…
Text: Lisa Tsikarishvili