“The absence is such a big house
that you will enter through the walls
and hang the paintings there in the air.
The absence is so transparent. "
Pablo Neruda
Everything is fast, everything remains behind us, there is no time to look where we have already gone, to think about what has already happened, because there is already something else to do, to see, to think, to decide.
There is no time to breathe time, so we breathe the void.
As in a Futurist human movement, we are pushed to move forward, forward, forward: what is left of us behind it? Which silences?
Unlike a photo of Cartier-Bresson, there is no human presence in these pictures, ever. At this precise moment there is no one, but someone passed by here leaving a trail of his past presence, his mark.
Like fossils, he left a nail, a boat, a movement, he left an absence, an atmosphere, an immaterial imprint. As well as time, he has left the time that has already passed, suspended, a time waiting for something to happen or waiting for someone else.
Emptiness is not simply pure absence, spatial or temporal, but it is what allows us to savor what exists between two columns of an ancient temple, for exemple, or between sentences of a musical composition, a moment capable of suspending us, even for a moment and to recover the time to think. It's a breath between things, people, events, times.
And everywhere becomes a psychic place.
