4. Scribble Scribble.
The scribble is poetry that radicalizes the experience, a line, an expanding state that goes beyond drawing; a feeling on the surface that makes the action unique and destabilizing; a breath that requires a leap into the void before taking the fall as an impulse; the scribble hides in the imbalance that precedes every step. It's a provocation that shakes preconceived ideas, the insolence of certainties, and the immobility of dogmas, which desperately try to take root under the skin. To scribble is a cure, a permit to move forward, an assumption of risk that promises no results, a fertile ground for the germs of renewal for the sensitive eye. The scribble is chaos, an indispensable place of passage, inseparable from becoming another, a place of intimate learning, a self-taught impulse; a space where knowledge has no merit; where you recognize the state of your gestures in the mirror, a place where you hear: "You can do anything, but first, fall," and you expose yourself to what escapes you. An act of trust and confidence, a place of danger for the fixed idea that thinks it knows, a place of enjoyment and pleasure for the one who lets go. *epoché*.
The attitude becomes the medium, the impulse, the breath, the gesture that places us in action. By scribbling, we exist without approval, the gesture traces and inhabits the space and, without signing, I am already there. This inhabited gesture can be committed and assumed through the scribble. It's dramatic when we give it that meaning, it's joyful when it's a smile that traces. As a consequence of every committed experience, it becomes an enigma. This gesture explores the limits of any technique that gets confused, and it is, if allowed, an extraordinary learning method.
The scribble is, in its process, an act of disobedience against the imposition of the signature; a metaphor for fixed identity, an ideal animated by the indispensable control for the organization of our Western society, a need that struggles to keep stable what, in health, is changing. Because of the weight of the external gaze—the gaze of others—and their judgment, we desperately try to hide any variation so we don't have to justify ourselves to the normative power that all otherness represents. "I don't want to be those eyes that..."
A purely bureaucratic and administrative problem that has become a way of operating. The signature is unique and unchangeable, and it exerts pressure. Any change is generally considered definitive, binary, and irreversible—because it already causes enough problems to reorganize everything—whether here or there. We are all potentially judges and the judged of everyone else, and often a threat. To be faithful to a fixed identity, incapable of adapting to movement, sterilizes our ground and our exchanges, and limits us to the same signature for our entire person. The scribble is the minor collective gesture capable of triggering the avalanche.
Don't forget: let the body do, self-taught, drafts.
4. Scribble Scribble.