See the invisible, don't see the visible.
Denying the body to the spectators, denying the corporeal, separating from the sensual, remaining in a kind of cloister, existing only from the hands, which draw blindly with white chalk on white paper... an irreverence?
To separate radically from the public in an ascetic and radical staging in which I can't see what I'm doing, I don't see who sees me. A resignation, a limit.
I am behind a plastic wall which goes from side to side of the gallery, from the roof to the floor, completely closed. There is only a small hole where my hands come through. Drawing without seeing, with white chalk on white paper, for 8.30 hours. The spectators only see my hands and the fragile white lines, which seem to be unreal, when they fall to the ground.
