ABSORBED, Damn I miss snowboarding

Opening: 24.11.2023, Duration: 23.12.2023

In the era of ever-increasing self-promotion through social media, the imprinting of identity comes as a distillation of refracted vision and externally derived definition in the light of the interactive whole. How do our inner processes resonate in our form? How are desire, want, loss, mourning, the
unsatisfied, the unfulfilled, reflected in the present? What dead-end impulses guide the way we position our bodies and psyches in the structured schedule of the week or on an excursion? What do those around us perceive about the internal explosions and arid statics within us from our clothing choices, the postures of our bodies during formal functions, and the repetitiveness of our choices? And finally, what do we ourselves grasp from seeing our existences posted on personal platforms and exposed to redefinition through interaction with the online community? A fictional neo-noir hero moves through predetermined landscapes of familiar horizons, lamenting his lack of a pre-existing function. An activity vital to his psyche and well-being is constantly thwarted, moving him further and further away from the Ideal Condition. As the world moves on, he becomes obsessively immersed in the sight of his own echo and surrenders to the power of resignation and addiction. One will see the cigarette as an addiction, another will read into it every form of obsessive behavior to which we subject
ourselves in times of frustration – the feverish doom-scrolling upon waking, the voracious feeding of anxiety and procrastination, the relentless comparisons in a stylized world published on social media. His once unwrinkled suit is now accompanied by an overused tie and shoes that are falling apart. His body is in idyllic places; obvious cinematic references place our character in multidimensional universes and generations: in Angelopoulos’ misty lakes, in the silent
restlessness of Carpenter’s darkness, in Miller’s yellow-red fields, Refn’s pulsing lights, in the dreamlike blur of Villeneuve. But he stands there, detached from the heartbreakingly beautiful narrative of the landscape, sucked in by the omnipotence of the surrounding space, immersed in the colors but absent,
always absorbed somewhere else. He turns his back, running to catch a glimmer of possibility that the next day will bring the longed-for realization. The return. The restoration from loss and want to the Ideal Condition. A condition of his old world that he refuses to acknowledge may have been irretrievably lost, having become accustomed to clinging to mourning rather than seeking to recapture it. A condition which can only conditionally be referred to as ideal in the transition from the old world to the new, what of one’s self remains the same? In the transition from the old world to the new, what of one’s self remains the same?
And we stand as spectators of the story, searching for a deeper loss that is never boldly stated, only diffused into the picture in muffled silence, like a soundtrack to a Lynch film, leading us to interpretations and theories. Thus are we transformed from spectators into narrators, ultimately ending up again with the question: in this age of self-projection and externally derived definition, who is the one who observes and who is the one who narrates?

Nefeli Liouta

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