…sit venia verbis…

Blind Adam evolves, establishes, entrenches, constructs, invents, generates, moulds, sculpts, indites, composes, shapes, plots, begets, builds, forms, instills substance and existence to space-time entities which stand in space, definitely, and with archetypical intentions.

Bridges between the absent and the present, between negative positivity and presence, and finally between negative hallucination and representation. After having experienced his own uniqueness and otherness, he addresses the emotional codes of the subject in plain grammar and self-evident syntax. So, signifiers dialogue with the psychic instrument in order for the signified to struggle for their autonomy. In his every work, he claims with tenacity from and with each eyewitness and earwitness the underlying intersubjective relation, whether the work itself is a line of thread, or a word. These are enough; a line, a word, intertwined, or even having defected. His “sense datum” is the absence of the aesthesis/sensation of the physical object, it is the words that aren’t there, the colours that aren’t there. His work is our agony to extract the implied form from the restraints of the context. The image itself is missing; this image which the creator obsessively keeps smuggling into his work, and yet it always escapes, because it is never there complete; only one part of it is there, and only this one part, the part. Perception is desperately looking for the concrete, but is constantly being fooled so that the abstract can find secure breeding ground to give birth to the representation – Vorstellung. The imprint. The mark. The engraving of the experiences to the memory systems of the creator is that which any witness who recognizes it has done so because he also finds in front of him the lost object. With it, which is now there, Blind Adam vividly updates that which has already, at some point in time, been experienced.

He imposes it on the space under conditions of abstraction along with plasticity, since the threads were woven by embroiderers and not by blacksmiths. Soft material. Black wool, knots secretly bonded together by another wool and with other knots, sensitive, resilient to time and storage, everlasting in all nows. A breeze, a breath, a nothing and yet it is changing. Even if not exposed, it may be kept inside a tinny tin, a ball of wool and knots, it contains in its insides the architecture of the past and the potential plans of its future. It does not necessarily have a present; it rather addresses itself to the now. Space and time collapse and meaning becomes elusive, if conditions change. Like a dream drowned in the primordial process, but made of simple materials. The most simple of our world, of our psychic world. The then, the now and the desires. Childhood traumas, the remains of the day, and forbidden objects. What did you experience, what did you want, what did you miss, what did you find, what was imprinted, what do you desire and what, after all, do you live? All united in a thread, with origin and purpose. A narrative. The narrative of one to the “Other”. A dialogue between psychic instruments, probably thunderous, and the voice of silence, where the distance of the unknown from the known exhausts the scream. Anywise the unconscious does not awareness, it does not know, it does not even suspect its own existence. The unconscious does not apologize, does not repent, does not forgive. And in any case, there is no one else. And yet the unknown and the known coexist …interacting forwardly with drives and conversing backwardly with dreams.

…sit venia verbis…

…may there be forgiveness for the words…

Leonidas I. Revis

MD, MSc, Psychiatrist, Psychotherapist