View of the exhibition Sítio
, Rio de Janeiro, 2015
Cyan is the only color left on the faded covers of magazines once forgotten in newsstand’s vitrines. Minuscule dust found in ancient Greek statues confess that one day their pale surface reflected other tones. The sun, father of all colors, gives and takes. He burned the painted pupils of statues and now there are only milky eyes left.
[Brownish orange seen while staring at the sun with eyes closed
At this moment with my eyelids closed, I can tell you that the brown of my iris doesn’t depend on any other eyes to exist. Things can claim the rights over their colors as part of their own bodies. Physical properties ingrained in the pitch-dark of the matter, fully blended in the marble’s powder.
[Diffused green that stains things after staring at the sun with eyes opened
At this moment with my eyelids open, I assure you, nothing has color. Beige is the word used here for colorless things. Everything is as beige as old marble statues and naked mannequins. The brown of my iris just exists inside someone else’s pupil. It appears only under an oblique light that slides on top of things without ever penetrating. The intruder that had her access denied on the surface of things is called by an infinite spectrum of names. Cor é o presente de grego rejeitado, o cavalo de madeira não pertence a nenhum de nós.
[Dizzy dark brown that tunnels sight after standing up quickly
The only access to the colorless is through an opaque beige vitrine. These walls were never transparent. There is no piece of glass or swimming pool that aren’t completely opaque. If I let my body sink in the pool, it looses its weight in a flat beige. When I open my eyes underwater, the milk soaks my dry eyes of statue. In any direction I look, I face an immediate beige that doesn’t vary under any light change. No colorful distractions nor dancing reflexes — the sun just stopped pouring glitter in the marble of things.