Stage/Backstage
About Ambares
The city
Ambares is a city that was born out of
other city. It is important to remember, that it might be just a mirror of the
other one; it is shaped out of the ideas of the other. Ambares echoes the
colorful cloud that always floats on top of the other city, formed with puffs
of what is missing and missed.
Ambares City is crafted out of the
imaginary of another city, pulled out of what the other sees as the other. Not
only that, its manufactured with the run-away desires of the everyday. Every
place has maybe a photographic negative, a cut out surface, which then flies
around like a ghost suffering its exile in transparency.
Ambares came through in my head because I
see relations, more than ideas. I see places existing within others. I see a
Scrumpled Geography,
where places are shades, more than territories; they are shadows, dusts,
presences that crumble upon each other. In circles of water, places echo one
another like caves imploding into an infinite granite and rain collapse.
Ambares, in itself is not so simple, since
its exotic ways are themselves a recombination of a collective dream; it is a
violent jumble of fantasies. Ambares is
a fractured mirror; it shows fragmented reflections pulled together through an
unexplained composite force.
Ambares is not a simple place,
because in essence it’s a tight folding and refolding of others. However, the
very truth about Ambares is that it is not a single place, but many. Yet it
brings together what here is means there.
It tries to collect the poetics of the distance and desire in a chaotic
spirit.
In the search of this mirrored place, as a
place only existing within another, I took the task of extracting and stirring
bits and pieces of The Exotic place; the febrile rumor of undecipherable
pleasure.
Ambares The City is a place like this:
While walking you confuse reality screens. You can hardly tell weather something is an image
or space in depth. You see through a window to see a landscape (which is in
fact a painted wall with other windows to other 'landscapes'). Everything is
dressed up in 'somewhere else'.
Most of the walls are painted with images of other places
and other walls holding other images of places: It an earthly-casted
image-place labyrinth.
Depth-screens-windows all in one collapse and everywhere is
everywhere.
And Everywhere is
multicolor, reversed, complicated.
The City has opacities, transparencies, shadows,
hallucinations, ghosts and all the shades of presence. Its not like things are
or are not. Almost being, they all
walk around. So when you walk, there are many degrees of doing so.
Image-places are interposed and crisscrossing. There are
also shades of smoke, smoked shadows, glass curtains. There is sometimes a
sweet howling on the non-distance.
The important thing is that you are surrounded by
overlapping layers of landscapes and names. There might be some witches at home
dressing up every space with other.
So on the outside you see snow, then to the inside a jungle
sprout, then you follow on, it turns out to be a saloon. Then I give you a
little box, that is nothing outside, and inside there is a little adventure.
This is an accidentally hyper modeled and scenified city. Here is an implosion of
choreographies, of postage stamps, air portraits, of recomposed geographies.
All of them set with the calculation of luck.
The space is to be lived *in fugitive mode*. Its all spaced by images. In every direction there are framings over
frames and framings. It results in cathartically multiplying arcades of
color.
Yet, in spite its complicated nature of place-image
collapse, Ambares is all a broken colorful town, where time sits carefully.
Yet the death of the afternoon bothers no one, because its
still Tropical and lost.
Yet there is a lady smiling bringing fresh flower tea.
There is the wonder of simplicity, and the baroque feel of improvisation facing
scarcity.
The light colors the flying dust; there is a curtain of
sunshine and it is hypnotizing.
Yet the nights are infinitely embracing. The air is scented
and lubricated with chance bliss. Yet
the people pass through life as warriors and victims, who work hard and sleep
deeply.
Yet you can go barefooted to different seas, starting to
walk at a single point.
Coasts are behind brick walls you wouldn't suspect.
Yet Ambares is the place you wear the flowery dress that
never turns out to be the right one in other days. You can sit during a fruity
breakfast with the legs criss-crossed is unusual ways; you legs feel the bottom
of the chair made with palm tree leafs. Its not completely comfortable, but the
texture is very alive.
In that moment it is also worth staring at the lady who
feeds the birds while giving them new names like she does everyday.
In Ambares your shoulders are roasted. The Dry is cured.
