Trizas

"In February 2019 I self published my book and it is made out of scraps. I named it Trizas (Shreds) and I took them from my "writer's notebook" which contained drafts of essays, poems, other miscellaneous writings and also a diary. My idea was to play precisely with the materiality of language and writing and also with the idea of chaos and l'hasard (John Cage style). I think it manifests an almost morbid attraction towards the fragmentary, the silence and the crisis of language. 'Trizas' is an artist's book that plays with writing and its shadows, with what is written at the back of the page, the semitransparency of what is decided not to show and yet is somehow revealed. What does it mean to be a woman? The question appears broken on the first page of a kind of torn diary that, when trying to reconstruct itself, produces a fragmented story. I wanted to question and think about autobiographical writing, self-fiction and testimonial writing. I wanted to take the fragmentary writing to its limit and at the same time to question the relationship between writing and construction / destruction identity, to question what it means to be a woman and try, with the shreds, to put together something new that plays with literary genres, something that could be read as a love letter made from the scraps, or a kind of fragmentary crime novel or to inscribe deliberately in the paraliterature or to present it as a ruined draft or as writing of accidental koans or epigrams, but always targeting the crisis of language. Following Barthes, in Trizas the letters seem to be all outside of a sentence, they lose all meaning because they have no basis on which to put together a story, a new one, and yet they try to do so. Sometimes, as Augusto Monterroso said, breaking a book is also making poetry. Trizas could be an obsessive work of nonsense, which nevertheless has a latent question: Is there a way to reconfigure our diary?" -- information provided by the artist