private:
balance |
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site-specific
installation |
(2016) |
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Description |
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Installation
developed for the Las salitas space at Fundación OSDE.
The association between Buenos Aires´ most traditional
banks and neo-classical architecture serves as a backdrop.
Two related installations are elaborated in two interconnected
rooms: in the first space there are three terminals reminiscent
of automatic cash machines while the second space is set up
as if an inner office storeroom, lit by the flickering flames
of a fire. |
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private:
balance |
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Fundación
OSDE, Buenos Aires |
Las
Salitas |
2016
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Introduction
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Privado: Balance (Private: Balance) |
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A woman's
hand rises gracefully to lay a recently removed garment over
the edge of a privacy screen, closely followed by an observer's
rapt gaze. The agreement between the two is as thin as paper,
but as firm as the minimal architecture that keeps the screen
in place. What is kept private has always been the result
of negotiation. |
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We
own nothing at birth, except for our secrets. Even the most
trifling of these belongs to us in exclusivity until the moment
we decide to give it up, expose it or use it for leverage
or bargaining. In the West, privacy is usually referred to
as a right, a long-standing accord that affirms that certain
personal information may be kept from the prying eyes of others.
This right, however, like so many others, has been imperceptibly
transformed into a privilege. |
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Like
a slow drip that can sooner or later leave even a tank of
huge dimensions empty, small personal details are silently
extracted from us, in such tiny quantities that it goes entirely
unnoticed. When we finally manage to detect the loss, we find
ourselves with a balance irremediably in red. |
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Where
does each of these escaped, lost, kidnapped drops scurry off
to? Might they have the same destiny as all those tenths of
a cent that always wind up in someone else's favor? Or do
they congregate somehow like so many drops of mercury that
come together on their own, answering the call of some strange
gravitational force, with no visible herding hand? |
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The largest
reserve of privacy is to be found in the company of all the
other assets of any value, in small, medium and large metal
boxes kept under multiple locks and keys in the real and virtual
viscera of big banks. There, a vast reservoir of the right
to maintain secrets as such is preserved, protected against
the wavering wills of those who might purport to parade them
in broad daylight, safeguarded inside vaults as infallible
as a vampire's crypt. |
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Secrecy
constitutes paradise in the here and now for those who gain
access to the privilege. For all the rest, there is training-unhurried,
unceasing, ruthless and implacable-that accustoms them to
voluntarily handing over that which pertains to them. Institutions
bamboozle us with passwords, code words and secret questions
to disguise the free access to-and remote control over-our
most private information that they enjoy. They speak to us
in an unintelligible Latin, the language of law. They urge
us to have a ball documenting and publishing every moment
of every day, without leaving even the most insignificant
thought, desire or emotion aside, as fleeting as they may
be. Every drop counts. |
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Is there
some universal law of the conservation of privacy that exists,
like there is for energy or matter? Or is it a case of infinite
consumption, like vampires, who need regular doses of others'
blood to sustain their deathly lives? |
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No matter
how deeply buried, as long as any possibility exists that
what is secret might somehow come to light, there is a chink
in the armor, and the privilege is an imperfect one. The ultimate
guarantee lies in the power to, when the moment arises, make
the thing disappear completely, like an elephant in the hands
of Houdini. Maximum security can only be found in the flames
of definitive destruction. |
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It is
likely that even universal laws have their fine print, but
that doesn't mean that equilibrium is entirely absent. In
order for Paradise to exist, fire must also exist. Every step
we cede means a corresponding advance from the other side,
every tiny item we let go of falls into the hands of someone.
Every deposit in the paradise of privacy was withdrawn from
someone, somewhere else, at some time. |
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Tamara
Stuby
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Technical
info: |
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Room
1 |
Three
privacy screens: strips of paper from a document shredder,
wood frames. |
Three
self-service terminals: wood,clear PVC and fishing line. (Warning:
the optical effect generated by the sliding bar can be hypnotizing
and/or addictive.) |
The
printed patterns used in all cases come from the "security"
envelopes banks use for their mailings. |
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Room
2 |
Fire:
light, air and silk. |
One fireplace
screen: newspapers cut in strips and censored (the old-fashioned
way, with black tape). |
Metal
filing cabinets, cardboard document boxes. |
Wooden
desk with Minutes Book (bound shut with black band) and confidential
envelopes with windows that show what is inside. |
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