Openhouse presents “Obsessions: A Self Portrait”—an exhibition that traces the fine line between passion and obsession and those who walk it.

There is a moment, difficult to pinpoint, when the things we love can begin to consume us. This is not always a bad sign. Sometimes it is simply an indication that something truly matters to us. This is how we live today. Social networks did not invent the phenomenon, but they have sharpened it with an algorithm that, the moment it detects our attraction to something, returns it to us multiplied, amplified, almost hyperbolic; until it becomes difficult to distinguish where genuine interest ends and where vertigo begins, as though obsession were the only valid measure of desire.

Obsession is a double-edged sword. A line upon which certain people choose to walk, tightrope-walker-style: measuring their weight, taking three steps forward and one back, arms outstretched towards what is yet to come.  All these obsessions make life a far more interesting place to be. Even if, at times, they make those who carry them suffer. Like a wound one returns to every so often, just to check it is still there, still alive, still with something to say. Perhaps that is the most honest thing a human being can do: stop pretending it no longer hurts.