I am in the Metro in Vienna and something happens to me, i wrote it down in a mix of german, english and spanish and try to make a video
which turned out to be very short
i complete the text 3 times in 3 different languages and show the video, the referent and my interpretation
.i select some key words from the 3 stories and make 3 respective gifs with sometimes diferent images of the same things
This 3 Gifs represent 3 possible readings, examplifying that interpretation of language goes beyond language itself
Installation, Miniprojector on Stand
LCD screen, paper, variable dimensions
A white guy with an Orange jacket, brown pants, cap, and iPhone 3. one 60 and a little fat.
For 5 stations he has been holding a Shopping cart, the kind of cart that you use in Vienna. The bag is reeking a smell which i thought was coming from the presumable rests of Cream Cake in the hands of the disabled lady next to my (me) standing(the one who was sitting in a wheelchair with her nervous hands (that remind me of the most dangerous ones).
The bearer of the stink, which now only reminds me of a vague imagination about the suspected smell of the most disgusting, deep (deeper than any repression or Trauma) corners in my psyche. He is carrying a Daily-Newspaper with greasy stains that although they reflect on my sight they don’t seem to disturb the reek: but my paranoia assigns them an origin by a past contact with the scatter of the overfilled content of the Bag.
Black Jacket and i don’t remember which shoes and pants, but a sunken nose and a bound upper lip to it. Carved Elephanteyes, liquefied; a collage that only his past can understand.
As he enters the wagon he looks me in the eyes. He is not surprised by my swallowed expression, he doesn’t thank me for my discretion, his routine is focused only on itself.
The doors close as the other guy approaches, they meet, he pets his left cheek, the way you would caress a lover or a son and his eyes shine. The deformed man bows his head.
The next station arrives, the second man takes the cart and the guy thanks him in a corporal language that resounded in the rims of the wheelchairs.
The bag leaves a trail with the right (or left) tire as he exits the train.
The guy turns.
The deformed man cleans the tire
Now the air doesn’t stink any more, it dissolves in paternal illusion, an ambient of guilt, being proud and their correspondent fetishes
Photos by DH.