Monday, January 24, 2011

JANUARY feels like...


Isn’t success, in the case of artists, the ability to express one’s ideas to whatever public might be touched by that expression? Like many creative ideas, it is not necessarily the originality of the premise that is important or that defines the ‘art’ but the means and purity of its expression.
— Maison Martin Margiela

Pure Fluid Edges

Markus Schinwald

We are the perfume of corridors
Unfamiliarised with isolated activity
Traitors of privacy.

We are Utopian craftsmen
Scope heeled diplomats, pretty beggars
Not the product of poverty
We don’t take from anyone.

We are pillared by mild sadness and polymorphic history
Eternally skeptical,
But We Believe.

We are immortal volunteers
Living in the sensation of being everything
And the certitude of being nothing.

We are just an outline.

We disband prompted paths of movement
Extend our bodies,
Become abysmal dancers.

We are illiterate of perfection, following the curves of belief.

Interested only in the gestures of bending.
Scaffolded postures, obscene geometry.
Frozen irony.