What goes on inside the MIO?
Inconstant changes, lacking social significance, just like your life.
You’re always in motion, condemned to being perishable, ill and frail, like figurines crumbling, remade infinitely, in other places, in other individuals, with which we relate.
MIO makes you aware of the image of vanished intimate belongings, an approximate recuperation (or extraction) of those from the continuous flux of memory.
You are (partially) a filter for images. Which are your inner images?
An image that touches you, a shameful one you want no one to know about. For once in your lifetime, be humble in front of the stranger next to you. Never frame the image. Use a pointer, a stick torn away from a hedge, the pen in your pocket, with which you instinctively point to a direction where a possible image-art-object might exist, around you, around others.
MIO is in a state of constant transience, subject to blows, omniscient and random. An accelerator of blurred images.
The image is not possible anymore except inside (the memory of) the individual; the image is meaningless: you are bombarded with images (avalanches) annihilating each other continuously.
Interference: the acoustics of recent feelings.
Most individuals in a given space are indifferent and isolated; they retreat ever further toward the edge of an inconsequential plane; disorderly crowds; contagious images. The only catalyst is the synthetic subject – always on rails, at high speed, accelerating, you feel a confused sympathy for the desert.
MIO is an emotion stimulator. Only unconsciously are you outside time. In MIO, aesthetic emotions can be simulated.
MIO does not make art-preserve purchases; it shows you where you can find art in your visual field; makes you aware; opens you eyes; sensitizes you for a couple of seconds.
Transition never vanishes; social, economic, political systems merely change.