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Frenetik Void – Artwork highlight
A dilemma emerges where something is meant to be broken: a pull between reason, the tether, that which keeps us in one piece, and feeling, the inefable, an electronic rock heavy on the chest. Articulated for no reason other than balancing between the two, Frenetik Void’s work invites me to traverse these parallels. They do touch, but it’s not clear when or how. Anyway, more on this battle moving forward.
The Void. I keep thinking of the term that peels off Franco’s multifaceted alter ego. The Void has many faces within these hallways. It could be a remote place where we are invited to go. The Void brings me to falling, to losing stability. There’s a tangent that moves on the tracks of spatial play. A travel through space that defies convention, in the sense that it feels unreal, like it shouldn’t be happening… but it does. Space seems to be a frail component that holds everything together but could snap at any second. A delicate structure that keeps us from losing our ground.
In the works highlighted in this article, we seem to find a form of missing volume. It does not strike me as a formal representation or metaphor for a container or available space, but more as a hole in the present within which the future hides. The empty space is populated by a body that seems to be moving towards something, some sort of reckoning or private moment of contemplation. There is a slit in time, a frame within the action like an instant between a brief meditative pause and a hectic tremor.
Something just happened, but something else is coming.
There’s a perception of the body that seems to have a need for manipulation, a need to modify that which has come pre-inscribed, where the digital and the borders of the mind gradually melt into one construct: an electric mediator of the self. Skin, the armor with which we phase physical adversities, becomes an uncanny surface that defies material possibilities, and this is a great enunciation for the opportunities of the virtual. F seems to be madly in love with his creatures, spawns of the expression of his desires, but at the same time there’s a tender violence inflicted upon them, a brokenness that instils a form of order to the luminous skin of the powerful avatars he strokes into existence. Powerful but at the same time helpless.
“The virtual is real” said Frenetik to me once. The content of the sentence didn’t strike as much as the way he so naturally let the phrase slip out of his mouth, like he never even questioned the nature of the statement. The aesthetic experience of exploring the world Frenetik creates for us might as well be the experience of facing ourselves in the melded physical and digital forms, in the liminal space where the battle between pragmatic order and chaotic intuition feels more alive than ever, where the fire of this clash burns so blindingly bright that we can only look in one direction: inwards.