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Starting at the beginning, of course. Meaning, at the moment of the tracing. The conception of the tracing. The consciousness of the conception of the tracing. I too, had made the mistake, thinking, the efemerata, were the first stage, but no… there was something before…

Sites and non-sites, circulations, fabrications. Why would anyone make anything and put it up for others to come and see and check out. Not possible, to not consider, the absurdity of our actions – and non-actions. Not possible to not consider the interactions between all the players, the institutions, the organizations, the organs, in effect, of construction and destruction. Not possible, to conceive of artworks without also the modality of presentation, the nature of the object, the history and legacy of exhibitions, the nature of coming in, to the world… Not possible to not consider, and challenge, the canons, the various fetishisms, the commodification, the valuation: not possible to not consider the economy of, the trace… I-tracing-I-graphing… Not possible to not start at the very beginning, and see where it takes one…

In streets, on corners, in galleries, in museums, on rooftops and in the alleys. Public and private, solitary or groupful, laughing or, not. Putting into question the various aspects and the reasons for being of, okay, everything.


Siteless artworks without traces that redefined the notions of the art object, the artist, and the collection, exhibition and other parameters of the experience of art. Graphisms without traces. In minds how they formulate, become, dissipate. How can these have existed, if they leave no marks. How can they have been conceived, with some, absent-visual mark. How, can there be such a work.


Ephemeral and undocumented artworks that redefined the notions of the art object, the artist, and the collection, exhibition and other parameters of the experience of art. Make them exist, after. In fact, it’s only with the efemerata that I discovered there was something else, before. Before the object, yes, but even before the creating, the making act. Before the act, and even before the conception. Thank the efemerata, thank them for the glory of the finding of the anagrapfika. (There have been no documentation of the efemerata, and no lists have been fashioned to even refer to the works.)


It might sound a bit, well, negative, but I was always fascinated, still am, by the virtual, and judicious, doing of nothing. And the mastery, at making people think you actually are doing something. Civil servants are great at this, and so are children 9and tenns). Come to think of it, everyone is really good at this. In galleries at museums, I’ve been fascinated at how fascinated people get at, and during, the installation of a work. All the stuff that goes on: the crains, the porters, the workers . Same with car wrecks or other types of vents where the voyeur is at play. I could not resist, in fact, was doing nothing other than making this process of the illusion of doing something, the works itself. And the subsequent movements, and the interactions, and the modalities of silence that it invites, into the work. I got such a kick out of it, that, in many situations, and in many places during travels for other work, and with different audiences and age groups, I asked people to pretend to be doing a thing for a period of time, but not really cumplir lo. That was variation one on negatia. The other, much simpler, was to document ongoing negatia, and make it variation two: the guy at the bank hammering away but knowing that the hammer wasn’t working, the…

Aphoristic unfurling of words and spaces forming sentences around of the absentia trilogy

Crash The Party

The CTPs were non-violent, yet virulent protest measures manifest through oral defense systems, oral modes of questioning and attacking, non-oral interventionist presences, situationist encantations, and other types of putting into questions the many absurd actions and non-actions of selves, others, individuals, groups, entities, corporations, nation-states, and various complexes too freagin’ hard to describe or enumerate. Admittedly, they were not always proactive, and, admittedly, they also knew of their own inadequacy. But admittedly also, they could simply not fathom non-action, and believed their realism and inability to bring change to some things (and not others) to be a blessing. They also weren’t just negationist, but crashed negativity with positive vibes of all sorts. They also espoused an aesthetic position (or else they wouldn’t be under this rubric, ehem ehem) and an ethical one of sorts. There was, in effect, a whole poetics attached to them. They were not publicized or announced, and there isn’t much documentation or archiving, obviously. They took on institutions such as museums and, sure, the government, they took on sandwich making shops (too little meat) and supermarkets (keeping the pennies). They took on museums. They took on theoretical positionings and a range of practices (Critique of professorial practice, Critique of curatorial practice), and many a conceptual framework and concepts (Hey hey, I’m a Latino too yo!). They refused to use some terms and brought down, in one conversation after another, the invisible barriers to freedom, liberty, and the no-non-sense defense of linguistic shennaniganery. You get the point. But… I’m talking in the past tense and I can hear you. Dude, no more? I mean, no more Crash the Party, now that you got the site up, and can get it together with others. Really. All right, I’d say, so, maybe… Maybe no past tense… But not alone, I ain’t goin’… not that I did before… Besides, I can just make it Crash the Party Interactive – people just do theirs, put them up here, if they want…


Bookstills came into being with my own books. From L’opera minora, first, where the pages played on the visual and the alphabetical. Later, I was like, hey, if people don’t want to hold a whole book in their hand and read it, let’s put it on the floor, and on the walls, two pages at a time, nailing the whole book into the wall. Soon, The way of nailing, the type of wall the space of the appearance, all created an impact, and the ensemble, the type of book, the place, the scale, the material of the nail, etc… all became part of the overall significane. Again, public, and private. As always, there is an intersection here with the phothaneh, and the lite works


A series of operations wrought upon the book object, and various parts of the book object: its function, its valuation, its components, its physical types, its historical importance, its cultural meaning and the meanings associated with those who play with them, the works in this series touch on the theory and history of the book as markers of meaning and creators of universes, as playthings and decorations, as dispensable stuff and holders of glorious works. Educational at its corps, it is also a critical apparatus engaging with the fields and institutions that function around the book. And, o yeah: the experience of this audience within this work is not only playful, but turns into, a play. And… It is, of course, a road-map: a handbook with lots of ‘plays’ in it to be called upon in order to be able to advance. Yep.



A bassadiga is a short interventionist interlude with minimal props meant to present inroads into artistic and/or literary innovations and alternatives. The bassadiga consists of readings, oral expressions and, occasionally, brief mini-lectures and minimalistically performative interactions engaging SAs (sudden actors) or IAs (immediate agents), as well as a rotating ensemble of ‘players’ into the fabric of its unfolding. The bassadiga remains constantly open to the expansion of its own boundaries, and the revision of its own tenets and aesthetics.

Bassadigas are born of despair and laughter, firmly implanted in the necessity of—or the illusory conviction of the need for—continuation and overcoming.  Because? Because. Because there are few resources and there is no time. Few allies and little recourses. No end in sight. Because one must incite and enlighten and provoke and survive and do it in playful manners and in provocative manners and in ways that bring lightness, joy, reflection. Because people want to gather and listen and feel. Because they want to grow and get together and go on. Because that’s enough, always enough: of the tales and the choking and the naming and the tolls. Always enough, that the cry. Because it’s always possible, since so minimal, and because it’s part of traditions, and their extensions: street theatre and communal gatherings and vaudeville and rituals since the dawns. Doing with what you have. Because it’s necessary. Because you want to go, on: and must, but also know there is no real consequence, no victory, no result. Maybe not even euphoria. The condition, of us all. The cry: enough already! To what? Maybe to particular events and situations, but really, to it all: it all it all it all, multiplied by infinity. Bassadiga. Because? Because.


Interactive Integrative Actions

This was my argument long ago–long long ago, what is now called interactive art participatory art, engagement art: why would this be called art…

Open Epic (in the sytle of the Elastic Circus of the Revolution)

Okay, I put this reluctantly and I’ma be quick. This is literary work, I repeat, literary work. But… since it brings into its realm mediums (what people call video, photo, hangings, installations etc…) and takes place in spaces usually associated with what many call art (namely galleries, but also public spaces of various sorts, and under the aegis of stuff called ‘art festivals), I put it here, as a link: presence and absence, simultaneously, well-served by the semiotics of the internet. Once (actually, many times), people told me I’m unnecessarily complicating, and that they just called it all ‘art’. Well, sorry, I don’t. I make a clear, clear, clear distinction between literary works and other artworks. Yeah? Yeah… Let’s debate…