Banda sonora para aquel que ha sido dado la vuelta dando la impresión de que fuera a irse, 2011
Installation. Dimensions variable
A city is not a metropolis until the sound of airplanes is uninterrupted. Sometimes the noise, which cuts the street in two and makes us look upwards, appears almost like magic, lurking in wait behind tall buildings just like diabolic starlings hide in treetops. When this happens, we are unsettled by not being able to locate the image, the source of the noise screeching in our ears.
One of London’s most beautiful places is Luton airport. Outside it is the rectangular concrete esplanade of the car park, dotted with lone smokers looking at the planes as they take off frontally (meaning that they do not seem to take any particular direction) and, once in the sky, gradually start dwindling until they vanish altogether. The continuous roar of the engines moving away seems to sooth the soul, and watching the planes disappear from sight is a hypnotically mesmerising pleasure.
