Monopoly

The artist sits at a table in a room that is a non-place, stripped of the memories of the past, of which only traces survive, such as old thorns, stripped electrical wires, holes in the wall, shutters that can no longer be lowered, shadows of furniture and, perhaps, of paintings disappeared into thin air. In such immobility, the moment of a slow gesture is grasped, made inexorably: newspaper articles are shredded and crumbled with an old kneading machine operated by a crank. Those who control and censor information have their faces erased from their own smoke, as if they were no longer able to narrate anything about themselves, while from the window the “noise” of the light does not allow them to see anything outside the confined space of the room.