EYES
Do you enjoy me enjoying you enjoying me enjoying you enjoying it? “What?,” you ask. Looking, being looked at, looking. There is a whole phenomenology of the eye dispersed in the words of a thousand encyclopedias filled with theories with their pages flying through the air, and like that, though, we can say it again, because looking is not viewing; just like listening is not hearing.
The eyes of iconic paintings from the history of art are coming to my mind now, and I keep them in my memory as if it were a detailed art gallery. Iridium blue, black, brown, yellow, green or sky blue eyes, made of glass, eye sockets filled with tears, premature glances of children in the arms of a loved woman, often latching on to the breast to drink nutritious milk. Do you enjoy me enjoying it? Are you serious or just kidding? In this piece made by my friends from Mondongo with noble materials and time as well, and their hands applied to the mystery of work, art and life. Their eyes stopped among other eyes, looking at one another in silence, in this tunnel stolen from a dream, which may turn into a nightmare for some.
—Francisco Garamona, 2021
Cada cual tendrá derecho a su propio rectángulo, 2021—2022
