Silversnake Michelle Dancing Blind distopia

Dancing blind.

Dancing blind, not knowing what steps to take. Without realizing where to go. How to move.

Three different views of existence. A white hall, an Art Nouveau hall with a party and a disfigured, decadent reality where men are no longer men.

But aberrant and raged creatures.

It represents a break in the soul, an internal destruction, in which human beings have lost their true essence, their values and emotions are controlled and polluted by something artificial.

A world where you lose the sense of things and the wind blows relentlessly making you change direction from what you had dreamed in your life.

A nostalgia for the time that was. Of beauty, of elegance, of youth.

A desire to return back to the ground and to the instinct.

We relished smells, words and laughter.

But the new era has begun and the shelter is a personal jail, made of dreams and visions that protect from the cold and cruel reality. White is loneliness, something undefined and indeterminate.

In white, forms lose sense. If you go into it, it blinds you, swallows you up and smother you.

There is no more hope to understand and struggle, but to let oneself live diving into a white world where the artist communicates and worships the snake. Symbol of independence, inexpressivity and lack of social relations.

A request for help, for an hand that won't let me fall down , that won't let me drift, that will be strong and hold me up.

I don’t want anymore a world in which everyone is his own god.

A refuge in one's own whiteness, without references, sexless, with lack of desire, in which each of us dances alone, blindly.

Produced and arranged by

Silversnake Michelle e Daniele Marchetti

Recorded at Snake Machine Studio, Milano, Italy

Mix Master by Marcello De Toffoli

Mastered at Swift Mastering by Alex Balzama, London, UK

Label/Publisher – SNAKE MACHINE

Videoclip by PUNTO MOV

Photo Shooting – Daniele Marchetti, Mirko De Stefano

Cover – Silversnake Michelle

Stylist e MUA – Elena Salvi, Antonio Trovisi

Torna in alto