Destiny is spinning.
Destinies and perspectives of pleasure. The becoming of the aesthetic canon.
A constant movement, like a thread that coils and uncoils, tracing the turns of our lives and the caprices of our gaze.

I wonder whether fashion, in its condition as artifice and beauty, can also function as a tool for interpreting our desires and our fears. Whether the aesthetic canon can be read as a reflection of what we long for—and of what we are afraid to lose. Or whether this guilty beauty is ultimately destined to dissolve into the bitter impotence of form.

I believe destiny is inherent within human character. It is written within us like a map: offering directions, hinting at endings, outlining patterns of behaviour. Within that drawing, I ask myself, should a strong character impose itself upon improvisation, challenge the random turns of fortune? Or is it wiser to accept the vertigo of not knowing, to let oneself be carried by the countless possibilities destiny sets in motion?

This dialogue between character and destiny also echoes the metaphor of Damien Hirst’s Spin Paintings: canvases set in motion on a rotating platform, where the artist’s hand merely selects and pours the colours, while centrifugal force—blind, inevitable—dictates the final dance. At their core lies an essential question: is the painting the work of the artist, or of the chance that drives it? The same uncertainty extends to our own existence: how much is conscious will and how much unpredictable turn, how much authorship and how much destiny in the image that ultimately defines us?

I am one of those who still believe in the absurd desire to defy fortune—to attempt to impose a personal mark upon the unfolding of the inevitable. And yet I do not know whether a true balance exists: that narrow margin where character and destiny enter into dialogue, where chance intertwines with will, and the future is written halfway between randomness and decision.

Spinning Destiny inhabits that uncertain territory: a space suspended between choice and fatality, between what we are and what we have yet to become.