I thought of wind tunnels – the type used in car plants to test the aerodynamics of new models.

It was in the way his words spurted out of his -figure-of eight-mouth rising from the larynx as if ejected from a malfunctioning conveyor belt.

No ear drum good enough.

Noise and words.

It was not just the sound of his voice – a metal file, or a butcher’s saw.

But also a clanking racket, as if his wind pipes were trying to imitate something industrial to run as a background to the voice.

The meaning and content of his thinking was reduced to shrapnels, flints,

flying in all directions like the back of a tree surgeon’s wood chipper.

Unusable fragments. Ruins.

We could at least test the tenacity of his verbal forays against a physical force,

watching his mouth further deformed by the pressure of extreme external resistance

Skin and cheeks creasing from within, flapping like little rags

words disappearing behind him as they made it out of his distorted orifice:

either entangled in his capricious flowing locks to form a grotesque ikebana

or pushed back inside him, as if in regret

A magical rapport was struck.

Enrico David (Ancona, IT) studied at Central St. Martins in London and has since exhibited his work in galleries and museums throughout Europe. His first solo gallery exhibition in New York, Nerve Ending, was presented by Michael Werner. Recent solo museum exhibitions include Repertorio Ornamentale, Fondazione Bevilacqua La Masa, Venice (2011); How Do You Love Dzzzzt by Mammy?, Museum für Gegenwartskunst, Basel (2009); Bulbous Marauder, Seattle Art Museum (2008); and Ultra Paste, ICA London (2007). David was shortlisted for Turner Prize in 2009.

photos by Anna Carniel