Life on Earth, 2018
A piece of
wood tucked onto a brick so that it stays upright, with a sawn off and painted
pink plastic plate (a seat?) attached, reminiscent of a sign, and then a wire
with a black plastic cork at the end - sticking up like an antenna. At the
other end of the room an orange pole, broken and stained, standing up of a
concrete cast in a grey plastic bucket, with a flashlight attached to the top:
an emergency flare? On the bucket it is crudely written "life on
earth".
In the
exhibition space there are tens of similar constructions, one more rickety than
the other. Their most prominent feature seems to be a strong appearance of
being composite and of having been through complex and incomprehensible
processes. The material in itself seems completely worthless, destroyed and
deprived of any function aside from barely sticking together and expressing its
obvious imperfection. And indeed it seems to be precisely in this incomplete
and hybrid state that the objects find an integrity,
paradoxically: That they stay upright in spite of themselves, fragile and frail
- and from this an assertive presence emerges, virtually an identity.
