text: rozalb de mura
In a world hypnotized by the iris of a coin, the artist creates little absolutes wrapped in pink. Nobody will pass the dam stone of this silent hysteria. Aseptic art for a world that ignores wear. Happy life, happy art.
Shrouded in the indecent cloak of his obedient past, will he betray the iris of the god fixed upon him?
Finally he breaks all of the past's soulless statues, and from their broken pieces he starts weaving a coat that penetrates his skin. Every piece is the living reverberation of a broken dream: the true absolute world.
In a world hypnotized by the iris of a coin, the artist creates little absolutes wrapped in pink. Nobody will pass the dam stone of this silent hysteria. Aseptic art for a world that ignores wear. Happy life, happy art.
Shrouded in the indecent cloak of his obedient past, will he betray the iris of the god fixed upon him?
Finally he breaks all of the past's soulless statues, and from their broken pieces he starts weaving a coat that penetrates his skin. Every piece is the living reverberation of a broken dream: the true absolute world.
