There are many ways of disappearing. Some are more impressive than others. I’d say the most effective ones are the lest spectacular.
{Thinking of the empty room one remembers the furniture that once filled it

27.01.2022
Frames well defined make worlds well apart. The holy, on the smooth and dust-free side of the isolating chipped ring, and then us - the sorry and opaque.
Luis’ guitar lies languidly in completely foreign context - no relation between it and Mantegna can be read between the wall and the floor that it occupies, but perhaps if the scenography were more elaborate, and the props more intrusive, the whole scene really would look like an odd mix of incoherent, sticker-like dimensions where brittle structures skeptically try to provvide a generous frame around the orphaned fragments.
I imagine an intangible dome of some kind of charm gas - like sleep, or faith. Beneath it all puppets and props are held captive of a game none of them is quite warm enough to play. Instead, each is rather too busy petulantly claiming stance - like children in a tantrum - and as their voices overlap, the bubble glaze flakes away.
The building force that insists on following the rebellious items on the floor is a musical that plays on repeat.
where Actors are spinning tops flat on paper -
And music notes emerge from the the fabric of sound, as loaded chestnuts of madness. They turn mute, but material.
And as music does, they alone are pregnant with the possibility of joining scattered bits under the same melody -
In fact, they look much like vacant ravioli.

The rebellious items are worn out subjects that no are no longer sharp in the present - but still hold on to the promise of personal histories - memory archives and bed-side-table books -