Reliable, cold, measured. Neither a firm grip, nor a hoarse voice.
Everyone would add: “When it spreads pleasure where it need be, there is no need for the Sun’s clemency!”
What about the sinister currents and underground fugues? People on the roof, ants on the glass?
“Look, what the hell, it doesn’t matter,” Everyone tells me, “While the eyes water and the mucosa freezes, nothing rivals its freshness.
What a machine, I think to myself, better than a piano or an oil on canvas!
Text: Amela Frankl
Proof-reading: Martina Fryda-Kaurimsky
Translation: Ljiljana Culjak
Photography of work: Boris Cvjetanović
The production of the exhibited works was funded by the Ministry of Culture and Media of the Republic of Croatia