After exploring and absorbing the city’s atmosphere of the writer who has inspired and guided him to reflect about many different existential concepts such as mortality-time-duality-above-below, Simon Victor, British multi-disciplinary artist based in Austin, USA, presented the site-specific installation The City of the Immortals. Victor transformed the Políglota Room into a different dimension through optic effects and games of reflection and projection in addition to video-art, animation, mapping and ambient music that created a very dreamy and trippy atmosphere.

Victor made the spectators submerge into spaces and non-spaces like Borges did it with his poetry:

MIRRORS
I, who felt the horrors of mirrors / Not only in front of the impenetrable crystal / Where there ends and begins, uninhabitable, / An impossible space of reflections, // But of gazing even on water that mimics / The other blue in its depth of sky, / That at times gleams back the illusory flight / Of the inverted bird, or that ripples, // And in front of the silent surface / Of subtle ebony whose polish shows / Like a repeating dream the white / Of something marble or something rose, // Today at the tip of so many and perplexing / Wandering years under the varying moon, / I ask myself what whim of fate / Made me so fearful of a glancing mirror. // Mirrors in metal, and the masked / Mirror of mahogany that in its mist / Of a red twilight hazes / The face that is gazed on as it gazes, // I see them as infinite, elemental / Executors of an ancient pact, / To multiply the world like the act / Of begetting. Sleepless. Bringing doom. // They prolong this hollow, unstable world / In their dizzying spider’s-web; / Sometimes in the afternoon they are blurred / By the breath of a man who is not dead. // The crystal spies on us. If within the four / Walls of a bedroom a mirror stares, / I’m no longer alone. There is someone there. // In the dawn reflections mutely stage a show. / Everything happens and nothing is recorded / In these rooms of the looking glass, / Where, magicked into rabbis, we / Now read the books from right to left. // Claudius, king of an afternoon, a dreaming king, / Did not feel it a dream until that day / When an actor shewed the world his crime // In a tableau, silently in mime. // It is a strange dream, and to have mirrors / Where the commonplace, worn-out repertory / Of every day may include the illusory / Profound globe that reflections scheme. // God (I keep thinking) has taken pains / To design that ungraspable architecture / Reared by every dawn from the gleam / Of a mirror, by darkness from a dream.  // God has created nighttime, which he arms / With dreams, and mirrors, to make clear / To man he is a reflection and a mere / Vanity. Therefore these alarms.

Music collaboration with Antonio Boyadjian