THE WOMAN OF STONE GETS UP AND DANCE
MUSAC
Embedded twigs
Roots from the sky
The air is fertilized soil
A whisper of wings
nothing sustains everything
And he who dreams
Has his feet
On the ground
that burns.
Karlotti Valle
Aren’t there any horses in this meadow?The only sound we hear is
the growth of the mountains.
And in the evening cupboards
a heart beats unremittingly.
These are the same mountains
multiplying twofold.
in oblivion.
In this drawer, however,
opened by your imagination,
someone keeps
God’s mirror.
Equanimity. 2015
Wax, candle and hat levitating in a magnetic field.
Work jacket. 2001
Wool, wax and wood jacket.
Galería Trinta Collection
A woman
feminine singular,
know
the secret of the stones,
their lightness
their tears.
On the seventh day,
giving birth to planets,
and not a single horse
for now.
Yet the Old Sailor
doesn’t founder
in your locks
His ship has wings
and the bird of snow
is grateful for its misfortune.
Night-time
is the ball of clarity.
It keeps us awake,
And the charm of the void
Disperses our tools.
And there is light
in the place
where our hands abandon them.
And they pray for us.
I draw words
and the world flies
towards leafy eaves
where names nest
Meanwhile, my heart bites
the branch that came
from your grove.
The wind collects
Bushes, antlers, and dead horns.
Intense voices
in the poem
shaped by your hands.
Karlotti Valle
Birds?
The bones of their flight,
an endless spiral,
and my soul almost feeds
in your hand.
Your steps disintegrate light,
there you have it …
The return
is the shadow of the birds,
that precedes you.
Their breastbones in the sun
innominate aerial skeletons.
Flights.
Karlotti valle
Neither does the sea sleep. 2015.
Video animation RealFlow, fish tank, water, table.
CGAC Collection (Centro Galego de Arte Contemporánea)