Subject L of La Fuga
"I. Sight. Eyes to a thinker. With which to deem when someone is right. When someone is wrong. And when someone is not.
II. Hearing. In ears wise enough to know when to start listening, as their fissible beings start glistening.
III. Taste. It is a sharp tongue, the one you are given. It cuts the world apart into little pieces, so that no two men call the same one, 'Home'.
IV. Smell. The scent of fear, when not just terror. They are the worst two, out of nine optimal forms.
V. Touch. The hearts of life in as many senses possible. Caress the idea of become, a monster. Megatonchires of man, you will make.
VI. Lucia. You are our child. And we are your family. We gave you shape -of bomb-. Now give us sense -as cloud-."
L. places the viewer into an infinite fall through an ever-unfolding space tunnel. Its walls are made up of thousands of hexagonal cells, tessellated into a graphene-like matrix. Each cell displays one of the more than 10,000 photographs taken during the Apollo Mission Project. With upwards of 10,000 images streaming in flashing streaks towards the viewer, L. continuously tightens the coil wrapped around him/her. It confronts him/her with the formidable scale of human's space race -by which humanity has transcended its natural limitations into the final frontier: outer space.
Throughout its development, L. serves as a rather precise visual metaphor of a human birth cannal. Its narrative text reinforces this notion. Gradually bestowing upon the viewer each of the five human senses, he/she is submerged into a formative process that irrevocably links what inner and outer space could ever mean. Finally, this hypnotic, vertiginous rushing into nothingness -surrounded by humanity's greatest empress- reveals its ultimate purpose. L. was not the birth of any human being, but rather the collision trajectory described by one last nuclear bomb.