Curator Songtext
von Credic

i′m not the stroke behind the brushed-on life
i'm not the colours on the canvas
i am the fingers made of silk
i am the omnipresent go-between

my passion is precision - my work is always lost
no fingerprints on any frame - no dust in any aisle


a styrofoam silhouette against your silver skies
i′m the gleaming key to cogitation
the entity that i compose
a touch of two inside the one

a single hand's perfection - for the only one permitted
a visitant inside his opus - my inherited dimensions

the persistence of memory always on display
time and time's decay extraneous
the paralyzing fury of a madman′s reality
all is one and all is here

the paradox sources of harmony
force us back into the gallery