There is something in the wind that is mystical: how it sounds, how it moves things,
The ethereal, this effect that leads you to memories because deep inside you want things to last, we cling to what we call the root of our existence and we want to pass this on.
But just as the wind, we do our reinterpretations of phenomena, and disappear.
We are forever stuck in the cycle of our perception weaving our past and colliding with our present.
This is Navid Navab and Eona´s work, a perfect example of fragility. That fragility that well describes the process of New Media´s innestablity and the uncertainty of how to preserve it and the experience.
The installation unravels from the personal experience of the artist finding old family letters, a past that was never spoken, being part of the Iranian left wings, the history of the family was hidden, just as a scapist hides and blurs him or herself from the scope. Navab and Eona share the same experience, both finding letters and both trying to redefine their history.
"Threads dwells with the mnemonic dimension of the written word and puts under the magnifying glass the acts of reading and writing in an intricate play of sensorial relations. Drop-spindles suspended in mid-air hold threads made out of hand-written paper, a transcription of a century-old correspondence. When touched, they produce sounds modulated on movement. Threads reveals memory as a blueprint of sensation and suggests that its capturing is volatile and ephemeral." [1]
As you walk thru the coiled paper (like the ancient japanese technique), the sounds of the letters follows.