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“¿Sería posible un texto que no fuera un espacio?
Sería compactísimo. No tendría aire: en él no sonarían las palabras. Sería denso como el núcleo de una estrella. Invisble para el ojo humano, como el núcleo de una estrella. Pesadísimo. Ilegible, pero conjeturable, como el núcleo de un estrella. No sería un texto.”
― Somos luces abismales
Sería compactísimo. No tendría aire: en él no sonarían las palabras. Sería denso como el núcleo de una estrella. Invisble para el ojo humano, como el núcleo de una estrella. Pesadísimo. Ilegible, pero conjeturable, como el núcleo de un estrella. No sería un texto.”
― Somos luces abismales
“Critical art is an art that aims to produce a new perception of the world, and therefore to create a commitment to its transformation. This schema, very simple in appearance, is actually the conjunction of three processes: first, the production of a sensory form of 'strangeness'; second, the development of an awareness of the reason for that strangeness and third, a mobilization of individuals as a result of that awareness.”
― Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics
― Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics
“El arte proviene de embriaguez causada por los instintos vitales en su cúspide. El verdadero arte huele a semilla, a semen, a humus. Es ceiba retorcida que extiende sus raíces a los ríos, pantanos y descomposiciones. La bonitura es arreglo, es artificio, es planta sin raíces y mútila.”
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“O light! This is the cry of all the characters of ancient drama brought face to face with their fate. This last resort was ours, too, and I knew it now. In the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer.”
― L’été
― L’été
“You who live safe
In your warm houses,
You who find warm food
And friendly faces when you return home.
Consider if this is a man
Who works in mud,
Who knows no peace,
Who fights for a crust of bread,
Who dies by a yes or no.
Consider if this is a woman
Without hair, without name,
Without the strength to remember,
Empty are her eyes, cold her womb,
Like a frog in winter.
Never forget that this has happened.
Remember these words.
Engrave them in your hearts,
When at home or in the street,
When lying down, when getting up.
Repeat them to your children.
Or may your houses be destroyed,
May illness strike you down,
May your offspring turn their faces from you.”
― Survival in Auschwitz
In your warm houses,
You who find warm food
And friendly faces when you return home.
Consider if this is a man
Who works in mud,
Who knows no peace,
Who fights for a crust of bread,
Who dies by a yes or no.
Consider if this is a woman
Without hair, without name,
Without the strength to remember,
Empty are her eyes, cold her womb,
Like a frog in winter.
Never forget that this has happened.
Remember these words.
Engrave them in your hearts,
When at home or in the street,
When lying down, when getting up.
Repeat them to your children.
Or may your houses be destroyed,
May illness strike you down,
May your offspring turn their faces from you.”
― Survival in Auschwitz
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