ABOUT ON THE PROJECT CORRESPONDENCES
Says Manoel de Barros:
These cans must, firstly, lose all the rancidity (and the artifacts) of the industry that produced them. Secondly, they must fall sick on soil. Sick from rust and peeling off. Finally, only after thirty four years will they deserve to be ground. This dissolution into nature is painful and necessary if they want to become part of the society of worms.
Cans, rocks, flowers, clouds… in their fashion, each of them resists time, and then they all disintegrate. “This dissolution into nature is painful and necessary if they want to become part of the society of worms”.
Whoever loves Manoel de Barros knows that the society of worms is the realm wherein rusty cans get to date flies, to be thrown into the snails’ dwellings, and to establish an intimate relationship with flies and bees. Cans create silt and moss, without which there can be no flowers. “They become very proud when they go from the status of being kicked on the streets to that of poetry”.
Lynn and Fernando capture images of objects in their dissolution. They are aware of the existence of the society of worms, that world in which everything that expires is, in truth, only passing from one state to another – to the state of poetry, of art, of the sublime.
This passage is only possible within time. And time requires attention to gestate memories. Time is very exigent. It does not reveal itself easily, nor does it expose didactically. It accumulates in layers and leaves tracks in the form of folds, wrinkles, rust, peelings, withered petals, shards, bones, fossils, footprints, smoke, reflexes, traces, colours. All these signals indicate that it wants to be understood.
The eyes of a frantic and distracted world see none of that. They see themselves, only. All the rest is garbage. They thus lose the best of life: sensitivity to seeing things in constant change.
Flowers keep blooming, expiring and being replaced by flowers that also expire and make room for others. This eternity of the flower, as that of the insects, ascertains the ever so necessary idea of the continuity of life. Even fabricated objects – like cans – decay, but are succeeded by new ones that replace themselves in a continuum. Clouds are just a state of matter, and their cycle evolves from phase to phase in contrasting speed from that of rocks.
The images Lynn and Fernando have chosen for Project Correspondences strip this process. Prior to being part of an exhibition, they were records born from the artistic feeling that allows us to, through objects, search for the infinite history of the world, and to notice the relationships between material and immaterial things, which differ in aspect, are made of diverse sources, but which bring the certainty about what Didi-Huberban talks about: “It pays to see like an archaeologist.”
Manuel de Barros agrees:
I wish I could do like the two man I saw sitting on the ground, brushing bones. Initially I though those men were nuts. Because they sat on the ground all day, brushing bones. Later I learned those men were archaeologists. And that they did the service of brushing bones out of love. And that they wanted to find, in those bones, traces of ancient civilizations that would have been buried for centuries in that land. Soon I thought of brushing words. Because I had read somewhere that words were shells for old clamors. I wanted to go after the old clamors that would be held inside words.
Wouldn’t this be the exactly what Lynn and Fernando wish? Or what Anna Paula and Anna Cristina’s? Of those who saw in the project the power of an appeal to correspondence, to stillness, to slowing down, to memory?
Anna Cristina Araujo Rodrigues