The Apostles of Secrecy

Based on vintage portraits of boxers, and photographs documenting bubble chamber events, both found in the public domain, these nine compositions examine existential dread and its deteriorating effect on one’s state of mind, navigating through the subconscious haze in a futile attempt to unravel its correlation with the cosmogonic enigma. Neither abstract nor figurative, rife with deliberate imperfections stemming from the ‘recycled’ material, they see shadows imbued with the sparks of chaos, and sparse remnants of light further eclipsing rather than illuminating the mystery. Also acting as coded pages torn from a lost book of rituals, they reopen old scars to rub some salt into the bleeding lacerations, in an impossible task of conveying one’s own sensations beyond the boundaries of life.

Theia Mania

(Look at it backwards, naked and embraced by darkness or shadows at least, and it might make more sense. Or do not look at it at all, for it does not yet exist, stuck halfway between Jean Cocteau's spirit and the spark of cosmogonic yearning.)

Psyche’s Signature

(Unreadable, written repeatedly all over the infinity of the shadow, it grows without control, just like a living, gaping wound, until it becomes virtually imperceptible.)

The Third Herald

(His voice echos at undetectable frequencies, feeding the worms born in the black waters of oblivion; his mind challenges immeasurable distances, floating across the gray fields of perdition.)

An Absent Smile

(His eyes opened to yet another gloomy morning, stripped of hope and deprived of true rest. A headache at the back of his head shattered a glassy illusion of freedom.)

ECG by Moonlight

(Too late to turn back, too late to move on. The victim melds into the double-edged serenity of the night, unmoved by the pleas.)

X of the Butterfly

(Disintegrating on his lips, it denies its own death. Tomorrow, perhaps, the axis of hollow sorrow will acknowledge its ashes.)

The Ferryman's Id

(Engraved in a golden pebble at the bottom of Styx, it glows as he sinks, forever and ever. Happily never after, he wakes inside a new bubble.)

The Dawn's Gaze

(Adorned in her best rags, she presents him with a broken telescope. At the last left turn towards the ostensible exit from the labyrinth, waiting is the one who can restore it.)

Anticlimax

(Shaped like a swan's song, and inscribed in a hurtful ray of light, it acts like a lump in the throat of his petrified past. The gate remains closed, but spinning in circles is healthier than suicide... or is it?)