“Everything is really a can — canned food and excrement.”
There is nothing more fragile than the surface. Even looking from a slighty different angle is enough to expose to the horrified viewer the fissures opening up in the corrugated shell and make his eyes sink into the depths of the fine wooden texture; and allows him to, like Alice in Wonderland, touch the surface of the water and drown in a pool of our own, just shed, tears. You should beware. It is good to pay heed to all the shifts and gaps that give away even the slightest differences. Here and there, under cover of general similarities, traps await our perceptive habits. It would be a pity to get caught.
The undulating block whose modules bend, fold and roll up, articulates a new relation between the outside and the inside; the horizontal and the vertical; the object and the subject. It creates a dramatic spectacle of criss-crossing perspectives and sequences. A visible edge suddenly escapes from the eyeshot. Not because it is no more visible, but because it does not belong to the order of the spectacle, to the objective representation. The chopped up object can no longer be viewed as an empirical fact, it becomes a product of relations established in a conscious perception. If this outwardness of relations should be taken as a leading thread, what unfolds in front of us piece by piece is an alien world, unique and relative, a patchwork created from plenitude and emptiness, from blocks and ruptures, from links and disjunctions, from disappearances and interweavings, from sums of inconclusive calculations and differences whose remainder is never constant. The gaze penetrates the folds, examines the edges, seeks cracks and fills the crevices.
Following Deleuze consequently, let us assume that the fold is a structure of continuity, and that in the material world interruptions, deflections or tears do not exist. The fold is situated outside the surface, but it is also a part of it. It is in the fold where movement is created as a determined point of view and where it congeals in a dynamic form. The fold is not a singular wrinkle on the surface, nor even a whole creased surface, but a moving surface-edge.
Dynamo is not only movement and energy, but also – from Greek dýnamis – force and power. The block’s transparency removes the monumental stableness and exposes the rickety fragility of this house of cards. Its dismembered, dispersed surface is a countless number of miniscule perforations and cervices, which absorb everything into the gaping depths. The surface does not exist; the inside and the innards, the content and the recipient loose their set limits and in the form of dismembered parts overlap each other and spin around the decentralized core. Dynamo is an active form: spontaneous, developing and plastic.