Let us imagine sap flowing through all plants, everywhere at once, at this very moment... or the circulation of human blood the world over in an  interval of scarcely three hours. Let us follow the trajectory of a few randomly selected bills across countless negotiations and possibly, by tracking them, discover some unusual design. We could attempt to relate the workings of cars to lights going on inside a house, anticipating the path and presence of needed electricity to fuel as it travels back and forth between engines and gears. Or attempt to imagine all telephone conversations being held now, financial transactions, interconnected computers, people at work, talking, arguing and laughing in different languages and codes. Or, still, analogously recognize the movement of all kinds of fish and different aquatic creatures in the depths of oceans. Reality, or that which is known as such, possesses countless strata, layers, dimensions, densities, kinds of porousness – channels of a tremendous structural complexity that moves, grows, and is modified according to yet another vast universe of different viewpoints. For some reason, I think of the existence of a population of images that inhabit and survive within us all. Thus, “different” versions of our own image, for instance, would inhabit the imagination and memory of those who know us – a strange population of our own selves. If we multiply this fact by all the people around us, taking into consideration not only the people themselves but also objects, laws, procedures, homes, cities, streets, highways, paths and, by extension, memories, loves, stories and behavior patterns, we might approach a sort of amazing imaginary reality, which would, in turn, lead us to assume a possible walk through this subtle, apparently volatile area whose presence would be yet extremely concrete and dense in its imagistic viscosity. A habitat made of infinite, interpenetrating, curiously intertwining worlds, surfaces that bend and touch in continuous, consecutive twisting movements which are, in fact, spiritual oceans with their currents, tides, calm seas, waves and storms. We catch glimpses of this landscape whenever we walk through a busy neighborhood in any large city. Every apartment, building or block contains thousands of lives, stories, passions, dreams, ideas, miseries, tragedies, hates, joys, thoughts and actions organized in a complex, living chaos riddled with desire, feeling, and, ultimately, with movement. I find it absolutely fascinating to travel through these places and discover associations of disparate elements as they come together in odd ways. To perceive a chance of spilling out our identity, dissolving it in the cosmos, to attempt to sate and observe the contradictions, incongruities and conflicts that configure us in this world or merely to enjoy the simple fact of our immersion in utterly hallucinatory, dazzling circumstance, that substance called life, the contact with which some call art.                

Porto, 6/18/2001