Time Theft Agent E2262 // Selected at BCNproduccio/10 La Capella Barcelona

"To haunt does not mean to be present, and it is necessary to introduce haunting into the very construction of a concept. Of every concept, beginning with the concepts of being and time. That is what we would be calling here a hauntology. Ontology opposes it only in a movement of exorcism. Ontology is a conjuration"

Jacques Derrida, Specters of Marx: The State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning & the New International, pg.202

Time Theft was a expanded piece presented as an installation, a publication, an unfinished novel, a silent film, a soundtrack on a tape and a live performance.
The aim of the expanded work was to display various ways and media all used for the construction of narratives to produce "History" for the means of manipulation and control as in J.Goebbels.
Roland Barthes's definition of the Third Meaning is intended to be a sensorial key about a Film composed on its entirety by film stills and the idea of lists and visual dialectics borrowed from the Surrealist ( as in W. Benjamin ) is used as basic structure for montage.

The Artist as Historian/Double Agent, the work of Art as History, the archive inside a film that accumulates past and re-places /re-makes constantly its own present time.
The Artist/Spie as The Man with a Movie Camera (Dziga Vertov)
The Artist as disappeared Author as Narrator of its own Research Journal

The Installation around a film screening and the display of elements inside the space as a Simulated Political Stage to question how the Politics of the Theatricality of distribution on a space and its use can affect a whole artistic discourse.
In this case using the church architecture of the site as it was used for real by Anarchist during the Civil War generating the feeling of an Historical reenactment exercise .

The film reveals Barcelona's dark heart and memory of its Civil War ruins , mixing far past and immediate past reflecting on how History repeats itself and -re-appears .

Containing images taken by me during a whole "derive" around the Raval area plus many just taken from youtube film finds on net derives. Delivered as if a stream of conscience by the film it self, as a neutral apparatus containing all sort of images, detritus, ruins and ghost.

Civil War, Districte 5, Death, Dance Apache, L'Age D'or, CN, Addiction,Revolution, Spies, Thieves, Aliens, Danger , La Criolla, Anarquist, Sci-fi, Torture, Industry, Ghosts, Barcelona, MACBA, Bombs, Cocaine, Bullets, Ocaña, Jean Genet, Orwell, ........... The revolutionary feeling manifested

Here is a Blog started at the same time and that has keep growing and included in shows too:https://kv53139.blogspot.co.uk/search?updated-max=2012-04-05T05:43:00-07:00&max-results=7&reverse-paginate=true

Extract of the unfinished Novel :

Love , called Eros, the God, is so attracted unavoidably to Death ,the Thanatos, a huge black hole of nothingness like the most warm embrace ...

It is never the person we give the privilege of causing disturbance on our hearts the real culprit , it is us.. we know this by now, after the likes of Freud or Lacan , its our transference , our projections, on the blank screens of appearances we see things, symbols, signs and we eventually find lost parts of our selves , of our forgotten past and dreams.

And this is exactly what happened to her when she meet him, and after the meeting.. that trail he left.. that scent that for some reason seemed to take her, to guide her, in to the deep nights of secret meetings for debriefings about the real exact Revolution, as was so much needed at that times.

So, please , don't even think that due to some weird auto destructive tendencies or some extra powers about this man she did love, she decided to put her self on a list to go and jump in to death , to disappear , because he had also gone long ago...

As it was irrelevant where he was now, because it was what happened then, the essence of that times and the subdued influence he exerted over her with out his will .
It was more to do with how he smelled and tasted, his sun kissed skin , his deep black eyes, his hair and how he move, how he spoke, how he loved..

This is what was mysterious, thrilling, fascinating about the fate of agent E2262

Here starts my journal , that text that is printed as a memory of a journey ,
a journey to a territoire which I discovered and that travels with me for ever.
El Barrio Chino , in Barcelona is a place where my heart lives , my whole body is el Xino.

The place where I went so low and where I found my redemption.
The place where I betray and was betrayed, where I found the ghosts
who talked to me and trough out me.....
What time is now?
I don't know, it feels like there is no more time out there, now or yesterday
are melting with each other.

Long ago predates today and never wake up to a new morning but just
a looping old new day again.
The souls that posses me are taking me with them to precise stages and
situations they guide me and show me so that my eyes became yours
El barrio Xino is a whole world and even if the whole time pass by it
never a place had more of the same, repeating its geographic speciality
A labyrinth, a container of lives and experiences bordering the lowest,
the outcast, the free for all , the villains , the whores, the addicts ...
One day of spring 2222, I gravitated towards El Xino, and I will just drift
getting lost and found on its dark humid streets.

Old, very old buildings, intense smells of acid urine residuals ,putrified rubbish,
fried oil and some scent of flowers that I could not really place or see but where
floating like next to the sea salt humid air beaten up by the flying doves.

How was her involved on this could have not been ever explained
if he will not had crossed her path at a very special moment of her life...
As simple as this may sound, him, out of the bluest blue, him the unexpected been,
him, influencing her trough out his hands and kisses and his deep bright beetle eyes ....
They did not enjoy such long times together , most was, as she pointed out after his proposal .
like love in war times, love in a short time timing and context and then a long distance a long time passing by, as she had also had said then, like love before we just die...
She agreed, even knowing she would regret it both ways, if rejecting it, the whole nothingness up on her for ever.
And if agreeing as she did, having almost for sure ( will she had not already knew -??) having to live with that passion, that memories, that burning desire for "that" which had gone like a lone sailor at that harbour..the harbour where maybe as sailors fate could always be: never ever come back to again.