Critical note

by André de Sá Moreira

Beneath a slowly rotating hair salon sign, the man settles down. He begins to spin around, in time with the sign. His body becomes the human extension of a banal advertising device. Between comedy and hypnotic fascination, he sets his own pace.

He doesn't dance. He spins. Like a sign without a function. Like a paltry satellite. Each degree of rotation is a silent confession: the man has become an object, a living sign. Repetition engenders a slow ecstasy, that of useless movements.

Like Duchamp with his readymades, it's a ridiculous orbit that reminds us how much the city shapes us with its mechanical gestures.

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Testimony

"Turning as advertising, turning as prayer. This man becomes both sign and signified."
— Justin Mc Intire