By Xil Buffone

‘I told you so! I told you so! I told you so I told you so!’
pounds the monotonous feminine voice,
‘I told you so! I told you so! I told you so! I told you so!’… ear-splitting I told you so!
like a broken black vinyl record, turning and turning
the recording in loop pours out from the hi-fi record player
with the dying light; and the plastic sail ship:
on the red carpet
the couple.

In ‘Nadie te manda cartas ahora’ (Nobody sends you letters now), (arrows, wallpapered wall and mirror)
the wallpaper is crossed
by a volley of arrows, from behind and from the front
a lightning, a gothic pattern of spines on beige, and closing itself inside its wings, the mirror
and what is comfortable becomes unbreathable.

Two mourning intertwined car tyres
two jammed black wedding rings
sentenced to never roll
until death do them part.

Everything makes a noise in silence
something strains the air, fatally
in the nape the breathe of suspense, the shivering of
‘Waiting for Godot’...
And as Godot never comes, take it out on the bird of the cuckoo clock, the Easy Prey that’ll pop out as expected every fifteen minutes, wielding to its domestic reputation
awaited by the shotgun.
Blow the wooden cheep away,
just like Barreda.

A spinning wheel squeaks oppressively in a video projection:
the shadow of a hamster that spins and spins
running, grotesque, nervous, no way out

could be the air
a circular painting, ‘Obstinado Visor’ (obstinate viewfinder)
aims at heaven and invites us to jump the stars
(stars framed by an ‘elastic bed’)

yet another painting invents a suspicious flying hull with an umbrella,
there’s a hot air balloon, Jules Verne-style –reduced scale–, stranded in the ceiling,
hovering, weightless is the huge painting with white sails that have freed themselves from the frigate

and the ship sails on and the ship sails on

it feels as if you had lost your head
it seems as if you had been happy for an idiotic instance
something worked

Snares and escapes, attempts and failures, human (individual/ couple/ social), displayed severely, paranoiacally, theatrically, literarily, in series.
Fernando Lancellotti stages strained abysses with almost no escape possibilities:
Perhaps you are not going anywhere
you might remain, airless, in the air
you might build a frigate and leave, and be shipwrecked.