⚡️ Dec 1-11, 2022
“My mother called me Silver. I was born part precious metal, part pirate.”
From Lighthousekeeping by Jeanette Winterson.
What if silver is the colour of dancing? What if dancing is nothing but a child, silver coated and unlawfully reproduced?
One hundred silver coats spread out on the floor. Nothing extraordinary happens, other than a slow lingering of perception. Most of the time the children are waiting. And listening, not clear from where or to what. Once in a while, the coats dance a finely tuned uncertainty. Are they frogs in a pond? Strangers with their nervous system hanging outside? Or empty shells, filled with other stories? Either way, we see them and cannot not be moved.
silver indulge the distorted rearranged, and the mild sentiment of a silver coated tune. The room comes alive, sight surrenders.
– Cristina Caprioli