HAND-WRITING/WRITE-HANDING
Hand-Writing/Write-Handing
The hand remains as a trace through time, like its imprint in the depths of caves—condemned to dark and uninhabited cavities, walls inscribed by bodiless hands.
The hand as tool, the hand as word.
The hand that draws, the hand that kills.
The hand is a face. The hand is, in itself, a body. A faceless body, a bodiless hand.
Hands tangled together. A multitude of fragmented hands. They are the absence of presence, and the presence of absence.
The substance of this multiplicity: they have passed through death and remained. The remnants of a terrifying experience. The outcome of bodies’ disintegration. Hands without bodies, bodies without limbs. Hands that lead the viewer beyond the text, toward the absence of the body, toward the emptiness beside the frame.
Hands gathered together, yet each remaining distinct. They carry time and bear traces of place. Mourning time and place. Compressed hand-words. Without beginning and without end. Fragments that never reach unity. Without a center. They are not; they become.
Multiple hands. Without a blank space through which they can be read. Hands intertwined with one another, narrowing the possibility of seeing, and of reading. A sealed secret. A dark cavity, as if. At once concealed and revealed.