I don't speak twice
The work não falo duas vezes (1996) is an example of how words can take on multidirectional meanings, and “plastic” activity can only be residual. The work consists of a transparent glass plate placed at a certain distance from the wall. On the plate is written “I speak twice” and on the wall alone is “no”. This mismatch in the planes where the terms are inscribed, despite the distance being minimal and reduced by the transparency of the plate, is fundamental, and therein lies all the difference. When we look at the work, we immediately read the whole sentence and connect the separate parts. But the shadow projection of the statement on the plaque – “I speak twice” – appears on the wall like a ghost, which superimposes a different statement, because by repeating “I speak twice” twice, it denies the original whole statement. It presents the statement as a lie, because it makes the subject who speaks, speak twice. The “no” is brought to a plane where it isn’t, and it seems that only on the plaque do we read the entire statement, which is by the way a negative; while what was only on the plaque seems to be what is on the wall, this projection in shadow being the negative of that statement. With immense simplicity, the work articulates an extraordinary level of complexity. And it also carries other implications. One of the hypotheses is that hackneyed phrases are, as we’ve said, as readymade as objects, and can pass into the realm of the unpredictable by simply shifting context, or by changing the way they are presented. There is also the reference to the “phallus” as a sexual figure, and this is not an insignificant fact in Marcos Chaves’ work, all of which is permeated by sexuality. But the “phallus” doesn’t have as much of a sexual connotation in this work as the connotation of “power”, which it represents. And let’s remember that the phrase “I don’t speak twice” is usually uttered in situations where someone wants to show authority. Chaves’ work has power as the target of its irony, and the idea of power can be broken down into the idea of convention. Now, the phrase “I don’t say it twice” has become so conventional that, as a rule, those who say it don’t really mean it. By extension, convention appears as a lie, a falsehood, an artifice that conceals the truth of things. So could art have the capacity to guarantee truths? The ambiguity of Marcos Chaves’ work extends into this field, not sparing himself. After all, Picasso had already said in 1923 that “from the point of view of art, there are only forms that are more or less convincing lies”.
Ligia Canongia
