You are catching us, so to speak, in the middle of a game of chess. Or is it yoga?
Somewhere out there stretches a land where the embarrassed object and the lonesome theory meet, many hours flight from our current epistemological swamp. Yet if that which has sense is to play with that which has none we must also allow for the possibility that nothing might occur.
Art as a postcard mailed from a future that has forgotten the past. Art as the bird faced by you, the cat in the aviary. Perhaps it is each not understanding the other that, given time, permits something like art still to happen. So please sit and try to get comfortable.
Nihilist’s Spa Wall text, Ernst Fischer & Sandy Smith
Text painted on gallery wall in turquoise pool paint.