dancers
pigment on aluminum
16 x 24 - edition of 5
24 x 36 - edition of 3
(scroll left to view images)
pigment on aluminum
16 x 24 - edition of 5
24 x 36 - edition of 3
(scroll left to view images)
installation shots, Cornel/Henry Art, San Diego, CA 2019
dancers #1, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #2, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #3, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #4, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #5, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #6, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #7, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #8, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #9, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #10, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #11, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #12, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #13, 2008, printed 2019
dancers #14, 2008, printed 2019
I was traveling to Greece and stumbled upon an old waterpark. The place was full of smiles and playful energy. Kids and adults alike were laughing and throwing themselves in the water making splashes. But at the same time there was this allusive seriousness about their play in the water. The more time passed and more water was splashed from above, a hidden sternness and a godly gravity spread throughout. The place made for an unexpected comparison between humans and dancers. With every splash it seemed that humans, with their habitual curious nature, were slowly transformed into rehearsed dancers of a long known and perfectly organized choreography. Their trustful play in dangerous waters seemed driven by a mysterious music and force. A diversion was unveiling itself in front of me, a complete abandonment of these dancers to the powers up above.
I pondered for a moment before jumping in the water, splashing, and losing myself, drop by drop.