“Neither here nor there: melancholy comes to life from a crack between the two. It is a dark spot on the body of all civilization.” (László F. Földényi)
As if going through the stages of a long dream. We are travelling, and who knows where. Glints. The temptation to look where it is prohibited. Blindspot.
Thoughts in the coffin. Breaking our lives on the prism of decease and examining what is going on in ourselves. Diary. The search for a partner – both in the material and spiritual realm. Torn out pages, being a stranger in our skin.
There is something intrinsically melancholic in neglected gravestones. Et in Arcadia ego. Eternal life? Fragments. A bunch of stones in care, cleansed memento.
Reduced range: tint, paper. Projections. The limitations of perception. Even objects of the darkest room have a shadow. Energy imprisoned in frames.
Measuring the immeasurable. Poems. Here hiding and highlighting are the same gesture. Connecting the dots. What happens if we ask the single pivotal question? Beyond myths, straight into the dark.
Ferenc Réka
I just write a poem then everything will be fine
08. January 2022. – 10. February
MegnyitóOpening: January 7, 2022, 6:00 pm