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{[( )]}, 2016

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                When I made this book (“livro”, in Portuguese) I also thought about the verb “livrar" (to free) conjugated in the first person singular: eu me livro (I free myself). The book talks about what you got rid of and lost one day. They are cases displaced in time and space by four centuries, worn and new, planned and printed, in a life-size scale, but which also evoke urns, abyss-coffins, given by the significant, satiny, velvety surfaces, their recesses and cavities, by the "pornographically" declared absence and void. I was interested in the transit between the intimate and public spheres, and how such movement continues indefinitely in the case of this circular mass. 

                 I wanted my first book to be free: free from non-hierarchical manipulation by the reader, non-authoritarian, without pagination, without causal sequence, devoid of the idea of ​​development (it was hard to get the ISBN, we were rejected four times, but we won), unbound; that was playfully and libidinally assembled, disassembled and reassembled in any configuration by that same reader in their own way and at their pleasure. That the text was textile with an emphasis on a tactile, sensorial appeal. A free book.

Thiago Honório, December 2016.

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