Pixelar Pictures
The alarm sounds at 06:30
I walk to the door of my room and then I remember a dream. In it I woke up in front of the bedroom door
I open this door, which is a deep green. Upon entering, I come across another door to another room, now red. I
walk through the clean white walls and come across another door, now yellow. I open it again. I go in and at the
bottom I see another door, and another, and another, and I go through more doors…predictable dream.
(Do you know that feeling when you are in a dream and know that
it is a dream but you cannot go out or identify what is real and
what is not? It happened in a few moments.)
When the doors finally end, I come across a bright
screen. It is neither a TV or something apparently
familiar. It is just a bright, rectangular image and full of
small portraits. I move towards it but when I get close
the portraits fade…I want to see who the people are,
but they disappear as I get closer.
The feeling I have is a mixture of joy in seeing them
and fear of disappearing at the slightest movement of
mine. I'm static. I prefer the presence of these micro
portraits even without their clear identification than
to lose them totally. As if in a slow motion movement,
so as not to lose anyone, I sit on the floor in an
attempt to retain that feeling and moment of company,
presence. And I retain it, and feel.
I wake up. The alarm sounds, it is 06:40h.”
This work, in process, started in April and developed from the ambiguity that unites dream and reality. Initially called Pixelated Portraits, its object is the anonymous faces that today exhaustively populate direct transmissions (LIVES) on digital platforms.
Fiction and reality are merged in this “infinite time” of connections and the “limit” exposed in their ruptures. Creatures emanate from a canvas - room, place - that, in principle, appears cold and unknown. I try to contain the presence as I watch the back and forth surreal and fleeting movement. At other times I am provoked by the autonomy of the pixels, these tiny and almost invisible beings in their luminous and fragmentary simplicity, contemplating “the other” in their unknown vulnerability, vulnerability that deforms and reconfigures what before seemed to conform. A brief crack opens up, erasing the excesses that emanate from that extremely ordered reality, announcing the new, revealed in this micro disruption of time.
