Infested ground, homes in the sky
Home exhibition , Reykjavik

A place in which we live, eat, sleep, feel love or bother, a place that we experience daily, it is a place we’re inhabiting. But what does “to inhabit” mean? And what and how do we inhabit? It is assumed that we should inhabit what we are used to call “home”, but what is a home? It is a physical place, that keeps us safe, that empower us with privacy and intimacy. It is an enviroment in which we feel free, peaceful, and that keeps alive our realest inner self. Then “home” might be a wider concept. Such a presence exists in ourselves first of all, and it needs to be educated, freed from useless inputs, so it can proliferate from us, spread in our daily life. Free to infest, contaminate, envelop, it is an interior creature that shape us and what we are, that shapes our personal home, that is flesh, synaptic network, our own skin. The home becomes then sweet sickness that determines us; it becomes passion and obsession, that trigger us; it becomes fragile womb that welcome us. And every home we called with this name, even for just a second, sediment in the utopic idea of an emotional place we crave; with thousands dowels it takes a real shape,it exists and persist, like a bright awareness, that works both as a curse and as a blessing. At this point heavy walls will learn how to dance, death and life will be interchangeable, small creatures will grow big, the door will be a poem. We will be able to inhabit ourselves.