Inês Varandas

There are holes in my eyes and I’m leaking out. A puddle, a sea, a dark circle on the wooden floor. My colours change as the temperature drops. My membranes are as thin as the wind. I lie horizontally on the floor to see yellow expand, then fall. What is ground and what is yellow? I don’t know – things spill through their borders. There is a pipe, a drain, a snake, something. You told me loss is an amputation; I lost my teeth when I closed my eyes and now, I can’t talk. My words are piles on the floor.

Inês Varandas (b. 2001, Portugal) is a visual artist working mainly with installation, sculpture, and text. She works with methods of affection and disruption which are rooted in gestures practiced in chemistry, alchemy and love; to boil, heat, blush, mix, collect, affect, change, join, bend, transform. She takes a close look into how bodies affect one another – how they allow themselves to be touched and through that touch change.