Memory exercise to know by heart/color
grandma rosa always calls the protagonist of the movies, the main actor, artist. she says, “in this movie, so-and-so won’t die, because he’s the artist.” the artist is the hero. hero is what we ironically call the cops too. gray uniform. an uncle of mine once wanted to be a policeman. didn’t managed. almost. nothing. grandma used to say I’d to cut my hair really short, like in the military. ever cut it like that again, but I liked the disguise. I don’t wear cap anymore either. I think I used it to hide, maybe. this one, who didn’t like it so much, was granpa esmeraldo. but I myself still like it. the reason for not using it is another, grandpa. grandma rosa says I’d to have my grandpa’s cut, she says “my nigga had a behaved hair, shorty”. I think she’s just trying to protect me, mabes, like grandpa. somewhere, to her, it seems a way to be a hero like in the movies. or at least not be a villain. but we never had anyone gray around here. also, still, no one has ever been an artist. what did we want to be?
it’s not to t̵̡̞͉̀͑h̴̢̟͚͆̿͛e̵̺̙͑̾͊͜m̵̝͓͓̀͘̚ that I talk to
to t̵̟͚̐̈́͠h̸͔̠͕̔̓̈́e̵̪̘̘̿͊͝i̴̻̟͖͊͐͝r̵͓̫͒̈́͘ ears I don’t pay
respect
you and your luminopaque, glistens in the pitch-dark
of tones all dark
so do the light ones
this ẗ̵͖̝̺́̀̕h̴̪͖̝͑͝͝e̵̞̪̾͝͝ý̸͙͙͙̐̚ don’t see
and the gray wall is very different
from that green from before,
from the color of the lord, the color of the earth
this ẗ̵͖̝̺́̀̕h̴̪͖̝͑͝͝e̵̞̪̾͝͝ý̸͙͙͙̐̚ don’t know
dodgeludescape
incessant steps
where I pass, we pass
every palm of these floors
the shadow of the almost scarce wind
plant-build-imagine
in the repose of the boat, awaiting, there’s waiting
your emeraldine luminescence
I bring it in my eyes
two garnish raw gem on the face
I’ve been wanting to dream about colors
and with my fingers I curl my coiled hair
I let your hair grow
your epidermis stone, skin color
has the softness of a beginning of an evening
there by the fire, passenger
where is roasted
the maize that changes color
just like the day that there too
passes
flying in a golden maternal very fast spacecraft made of miraculous metal with crystal windows and velvet lining,
rosa/e
* In Portuguese, “saber de cor” means “to know by heart”. Tough the word “cor” in the expression is related to “coração” (heart), it is the same word as for color, “cor”. Here, the polysemy of the word “cor” enables a reading as to “remember by color”.
Diego Crux. almost-artist, born in the neighborhood of Parada de Taipas, on the outskirts of São Paulo. In his work, he researches intimate and personal calls, collective experiences, representation, identity and the limits, incognitos and contradictions in these crossings. He thinks the elaboration of imaginaries and representations, tensioning and revising the hegemonic context. He uses various media in his processes, such as appropriation, photography, video, design, visual samples, words, etc.
He has participated in exhibitions and shows such as “Kwenda Mbele Siyo Kufika” at the Centro Cultural SESI Heitor Stockler de França (Curitiba,Brasil,2020), “Nós Levantamos” at Colabirinto (São Paulo, 2019), “the wrong biennale”, BIG or BiGGGEST, (Copenhagen, Denmark, 2019), “CHALE WOTE 2019” (Accra, Ghana, 2019). He was part of the SESI Visual Arts Center coordinated by Ana Rocha and Beatriz Lemos, of the Visual Arts Project Orientation Program CPF-SESC under the guidance of Ana Paula Cohen and Gustavo Torrezan, and was artist in residence at Cycle III Pivô Pesquisa 2020 with the supervision of Thiago Paula Souza. He is artist in residency program at MAM Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, 2021.