Finding myself among the village’s junk, consisting of various rusty metal pieces, wooden boards with nails and other things, I wanted to make artistic sense of this environment. Things usually say a lot about space, but here it seems as if they live their own independent life, hopelessly mired in infinite entropy. After many different manipulations with objects and surroundings, I finally found an important detail that helped me to construct a kind of dialogue between all the objects surrounding me. The item was a motorcycle helmet. It turned out that this helmet belonged to my uncle, who had once ridden his motorcycle. However, this fact from the past has no effect on the mysterious relationship of all these things to each other in the present.
For me, this helmet is more of an artifact or archaeological find, containing the mysterious potential of arcane mystical stories and rituals, in the spirit of a dark American hinterland culture famous for its satanic cults, where on the marshy soil of Louisiana they have been performed by Rednecks, Cajuns, Manecheans and other religious sects since the time when the Sun King of the Catholic Empire-Ludovic 14 kicked out heretics, criminals and crooks from the continent… There is such a legend about the Ghost Rider:
“Motorcycle stuntman Johnny Blaze, made a deal with the demon Mephisto to save his father’s life. His soul was tied to a creature called Zarathos. Using the powers of Zarathos, Johnny was transformed into a flaming skeleton, with a hellish motorcycle and the ability to emit hellish flames from any part of his body. He was the arbiter of justice.”