Prints ranging from a schoolboy photo booth to a selfie had been stuck on the floor of the square.
A little rain has washed out their fine paper to the point of distorting and altering the faces, sometimes helped in its work by a few hurried pedestrians. Some faces were partially erased, others were distorted, shattered, and became unrecognizable. The looks that performed antics to gain composure in front of the camera became pensive, astonished, questioning, panicked, anguished. A court of miracles with actors cousins of Francis Bacon’s paintings has been formed. They have become expressions of human nature in its violence, referring to the deep being as much as to our abysmal personal or societal fears thanks to a simple rain.
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