SKULPI/Roman Schramm

SKULPI dives, floats, lies on the ground of our conscience, hidden by the shudder and sheen of our desires. Tasteful skills, surges are trawling the waves, clouds raging through our voice. Only your ear can give it shelter. Ear, can you see me – I can feel your warm shadow. A kink, a loop, it girdles my senses and we bring together what time has divided among us. Scissors glide through a portrait, they taste, a clique, on a sandwich, not everything of course. Between the home and the abstract, the corners of the gallery and the train going uphill, the which is lost comes to our rescue, not letting go, until the body slackens, off.