We all shine, and we long. And we will long. But it seems
as though only in glamour we are returning to life.
In glamour we even proclaim life. The golden surface is
the aura of the inner good and prouder out. Is this
knighthood in media time or the cinematic reality of a
sign, devoid of time and meaning, like optimal marketing
fed by narcissism? A flag for a doomed expectation, but
festive in its self-oblivion.
And we go inside. I would even sit somewhere near
the wall for a little while to spend time with myself. It’s
peaceful. The being across – sewn up, propped up on
branches, fastened with hemp, charming in its disability,
reanimated with handy means, crushingly soft. Its
synthetic glow is noble. Former trophy, present me.
The psychological abyss of the child in me, hanging for
years on a roller coaster in the amusement park of
capitalism.
Whose is this kingdom?
But it is precisely this question in this exhibition that will
not be answered. Because within a politics of
imagination, potentiality and difference that we lead,
all these oppositions dark-light, inside-out, cause-effect,
will be broken down. Just because the world must be
different. Also, the world is elsewhere, somewhere
in the crevasse between anxiety and expectation …
Suddenly, you even get a little funny because you
understand that exactly this story – how we believed we
knew the answer – is actually true.
Curated by Viktoria Draganova
Courtesy of the artist and Swimming Pool
Photocredit Yana Lozeva