THE WALL

A peculiar Moebius strip hovers seriously in the milk-white nothingness. The mass of robust, ancient, presumedly the Roman ruins of a gate, relatively intact Corinthian columns, parapet fragments, bare brick and stone walls, and walled-up arches winding in zigzags swims in the great whiteness, and with its artful engagement that is impossible in reality, it issues the well-known horizontal-eight form of “infinity”. Infinite in its infinity. A profoundly philosophical work. Here there is no background, no ground, origin, nature, man, animal, plant – there is no life anywhere. Perhaps we are in 3000, or 10,000 AD, by the time that this is all that remains of all of human culture in space: the remains of the wall that have absorbed these victories, defeats, sweats, blood, happiness and pain alike, capitals evoking vegetal runners...
Light and shadow, the perfect drawing here has been arranged on this sheet in the interest of a higher aim: to name the unnameable, to portray the unportrayable, to express the inexpressible, to divine the indivinable.

(György Kemény)