Humans separate when one body is detached from the other.
When the awareness of adventure retires completely to the silence of the detached body. That hurts, that produces pleasure. A kind of pleasure that is therapeutic, that helps us to stand up to tha metaphysic defeat.
Mato ioannidou with this work covered exactly the area between humans as mater and humans as idea. The unconsious dialogue of the bodies release the unspeakable sense of truth which only madness or art, from different paths each one, know how to reveal. Here, into these images, we can see both. From the one hand, the sacred paroxysm of the action, the delirium that is strictly organized into a free conversation of infinite pieces of overlooked knowledge. From the other, the sense of vanity that overtakes the viewer in his attempt to “read” the paintings. The oaths, the “for ever”, the desperate “believe me”, are heard with the most sonorous way as i observe the heads bending one towards the other. Like a recollection into the silence of our lonely soul. (…How powerful painting can be when it meets its viewer…) Further down the feet.
The feet that elevate us from the ground, assuming the whole burden of the human existence.
They liberate and at the same time they keep the mystery in between the contradictions of the lines that formed them without having to answer to anybody.
The impertinance of thighs, of soles, of hands depicts the humans’ legitimate request (humans who strive till the end, who battle instinctively in belief) that death can not have the llast word. Probably we should see Matos’ wirk not just as erotic sketches. We should see it as an act of resistance against tha unfair dictatorship of vanity.