Stacks

Semen and sweat, tears next to urine, the smell of dead leaves, nestling in antibacterial wipes and toilet paper. Yinon Avior’s works are evidence of the jumble of materials in which he wallows and from which he emerges. With the devotion of a forensic pathologist, he transfers them to his work table, where they are spread out on glass panes originating from broken photocopiers, duplicated and reprinted as a photographic collage. His necrophilic preoccupation does not end with the act of photography, but continues with a ritual embalming of the photographic material itself.

A series of drawings created on thermal paper, which changes color as it encounters heat and remembers the act of drawing, is presented next to the body of photographic works; a direct imprint of the artist’s body, which left its mark on the paper. This exhibition is preserved testimony to the aroused breathing body; the body that tests and tastes, licking the grimy substance of life from which it is made, and to which it will return.