You don't have to leave Barcelona to travel, says Boris. Walking through the lower barrio chino is a trip around the world in 80 seconds. Sex and crime. An old woman and dedication. Policemen and thieves. Life and death. Boris and myself.
The old woman is peeling off Posters with her bare hands, everyday at the same time, from the same wall, with the same dedication that guiris have to short pants and sandals. The police that forbid graffiti in Barcelona. The police that do not like seeing black girls' shaking asses projected on the neighbours' houses at midnight. The thieves that stole the water pipes made out of plum from Boris' house to sell them for one Euro to the shop nearby and leave behind a house without water, expect a flooded cellar.
Surrounded by Books and Barcelona, Boris and I are here to discover the essence of life, working with porn magazines, so old that we are afraid to discover our grandmothers posing with birds in their laps, wondering if used porn magazines have more stories to tell than those unused, wondering if the pin-up girls are still alive, wondering what they might be up to now, wondering if they would peel off posters.
Ras Gallery, Barcelona, Spain
Printed on red paper and presented in special textured paper jackets