I am viewing a show of mechanical art, a voluntary return to old-fashioned hands-on mechanical engineering in an age of rampant technology. The works on display range considerably in size, some are rough raw wood, simply functional (if ever they are actually used); others are elegant creations in polished hardwood and silky brass, sinuously designed. All are bizarre, curios set up in an art gallery, positioned purposely to create wonder. This is the work of Aaron Bezzina, a young artist who has managed to create something so strangely unique within the local art scene that it could become pretty much unforgettable.

The exhibition, which technically speaks of different body parts and mortality, even while not one single body is displayed, opened strategically on 1 November, on the eve of All Souls Day and in keeping with this mind frame, the artist welcomed his guests with a marble tombstone, complete with a Latin inscription announcing his own entombment. Bezzina says: "Hic Iacet Corpus, is the introductory floor piece to the show, evidently of a different format to the rest of the exhibition, yet it is a time and site-specific curatorial intervention suggested by my curators Ann Laenen and Stefan Kolgen. Our collaboration came about very organically. They eased me in the right direction with regards to what kind of work the exhibition ought to be comprised of, using a freer approach, thus allowing me to take the focus as the key figure within my own show. I view our work as a long discussion that resulted in Corpus Adflictum, a discussion that began some three months prior to the opening. The floor piece in particular, epitomises this friendly/playful interaction between artist and curator and leads the visitor on to what follows."

Morbidity is key in what follows and as one observes each contraption, delicately engineered to purposely cause bodily self-harm in the most absurd manners, one wonders what lay behind this concept. "Do not touch. This body of works, hence the use of the Latin 'corpus', is the result of a series of observations of people and how they behave in museums and art galleries. People want to touch art, meddle with it, even when there is nothing tactile about it. Contrary to the concept of inter-activity, my works are counter-inter-active.  People pause to scrutinise, for instance the 'High-Striking Guillotine', and when they come to terms with how it actually works, the beckoning machine elicits first perplexity, and then a nervous snigger. The viewer realises this is, most effectively, untouchable art."

Indeed although the artworks seem to invite one to experiment with them, nobody dares to. The machines which some might argue, are just that, are so unusable, that like artefacts, one must simply stop to admire, nothing more. I mean, why on earth would one want to try out a tongue piercer or a hand divider for that matter? The ambiguity of Bezzina's show is totally successful and as the artist regresses blissfully into mechanics, the viewer has no other option but to stand back and simply stare. There isn't even the need to add a Don't Touch notice.
"In the bigger works especially, I wanted to remove aesthetic allure where possible, maintaining my focus on the functionality and practical 'use' of the machines. I constructed them based on my own physical limitations of space and transportation." Yet there is no hint at limitation, since within this gallery, the works sit comfortably displayed, shedding light on the way the human brain can play around with the issue of pain, even while the kind of  pain herewith suggested,  has to be procured by self-infliction.

A series of technical blueprints shed light on Bezzina's original thought processes, simple sketches that jot down a basic idea that in time, became ripe for development. They are the seed that led to the germination of each contraption. And as bizarre as it all is, one cannot vouch to forget Aaron Bezzina. This is especially unlikely if one decides to tamper with one of his machines.

'Corpus Adflictum' is showing at Valletta Contemporary, 15, 16, 17 East Street, Valletta, until 4 December. For more information phone on 00356 7904 1051