WHEN IT'S THREE IN THE MORNING
Installation showed at Central Saint Martins SHOW 1
Video mapping, screens, sound, 2017
<< When it’s three in the morning and I’m in bed. I’m in bed and I stare the ceiling. I stare the ceiling but I see nothing. It’s dark, I don’t have contact lenses on. It’s three in the morning like every time I get awakened by a nightmare. It’s always three in the morning. I’m in bed, helpless, paralysed. I’m in bed and it’s the only thing I know for sure. A suspended, floating bed. There is no East, West, South and North. There is me, in the bed, and it’s three in the morning. The rest is fear, fear that materialises. Invisible but noisy fear. Fear made of confused but detailed images. Fear that sends a distant echo, which roars in the bowels. A frightful, amplified whisper. Three o’clock in the morning. In bed, between sleep and wake >>