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tours Insomnia X
Michael Curran
Insomnia X

The sound of birds again. Shrill calls and screeches. Voices are carried on the wind. The wind is a voice. This is the acoustic of a vast landscape. Everything has a heightened presence in this whistling expanse. This wilderness is the Temendos, the ritual precinct in which visions manifest themselves. Sound echoes, rebounds, decays. Suddenly a bee seems to buzz close to your ear or is it the howl of a wolf turning to the trill of a bird? Now the utterance of an earth spirit beneath the undulating shadow of a tree is becoming the shape of a woman and the smell of a rose. A voice speaks of the roses without saying what colour they are.

Empty dusty roads return as you spin like a dervish. Land masses blur to reveal other places near and far. The tree again becomes something else as the ululation of women's voices increases… a prayer… a curse …. under the shadow of the thorny tree.

Nina Danino's Temendos evokes a sacred place in which a visitation of the Holy Virgin may take place, yet here in this transforming series of parallel worlds any mirage is possible. The heat haze blurs and deforms vision. Still now stormy ,hot then cold, moist then dry, a desert or a forest?

The litany of voices continues as the territory becomes evermore uncertain. In the sandstorm of sound and vision we see many shapes, places and forms: an idyll, a family, traces of an aftermath, the scene of a crime, a lost man and a sacred place folding back and back on itself to infinity, taking us towards the deepest of sleeps.

I can hardly keep awake.
Michael Curran
Still from Temenos by Nina Danino, 1998
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