Vija Celmins, Galaxy (1975, Tate Gallery, Londres)
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«They are chunks of ice reflecting the sun;
they are lights afloat on the waters beyond the transparent dome;
they are nails nailed to the sky;
they are holes in the great curtain between us and the sea of light;
they are holes in the hard shell that protects us from the inferno beyond
they are the daughters of the sun;
they are the messengers of the gods;
they are shaped like wheels and are condensations of air with flames
roaring through the spaces between the spokes;
they sit in little chairs;
they are strewn across the sky;
they run errands for lovers…»
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Vija Celmins and Eliot Weinberger, The Stars (2005)
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E uma sugestão de filme (para quem gosta de humor negro e uma excelente crítica ao mundo em que vivemos):
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