The installations of Zoro Feigl (1983) seem to be alive. His materials dance and twist. Placed together in a space, the separate works become one: large and ponderous in places, nervous or gracious elsewhere.
Feigl’s forms are constantly changing, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly. The exhibition space becomes an enlarged microscope: single-cell creatures, primitive organisms are twisting, groaning and convulsing. Without beginning or end the objects seem to be locked into themselves. As a viewer you become entangled in their movements: they embrace and amaze, but sometimes also frighten you