The exhibition will allow for an exploration of transient spaces and temporality. As artists, we share an interest in
the ‘in between space’ in metamorphosis and the use of narrative structure to create tension between seemingly static spaces and the potential for action.
Our focus is on the fragments and
residues that linger beneath a new form, visible only after a period of waiting.
and we couldn’t say we fully understood why it started. We figured out pretty quickly why it physically happened, but – just like with anything major happening to humanity – we all argued amongst ourselves, in order to explain the metaphorical and philosophical causes of The Rumble. Some of us were soothed by the apocalyptic turn of the current events, quoting religious texts, as if The Rumble was a comforting confirmation of their faith. Others were preparing for the worst, hoarding food in their crumbling houses, readying weapons for incoming battles. The year was spinning into chaos – and we were only in March.
Gentle initially, only those with the highest senses spotted it. It startled the pigeons perched on the wall above the off-licence, leaving a couple of feathers slowly spinning down onto the road. It cracked an ancient vase, stolen centuries ago from another country. It disoriented the local fox population, causing them to run into oncoming traffic. The pavement trembled underneath an office worker’s polished shoe, decimating her physical balance and already fragile emotional stability. Years of counting someone else’s numbers under copious amounts of cocaine, and the gentlest slip in the road made her break down completely. She clutched her bleeding knee, sobbing on the wobbly ground.
We unanimously voted for the best scientists to take measurements and examine the causes and effects of The Rumble. The authorities sent a team in hazmat suits and, by the time they arrived at the scene, the whole city was shaking. The local news station sent a camera drone and broadcasted the scientists, who – on all fours – were carefully recording their findings. They jiggled as if their bodies solidified into Jell-O and for most of us it looked comical. Just like the coronation or Gogglebox, we all watched it on telly, and it instilled a sense of belonging and national identity in us.
The examination was finished by 4 pm and a loud fanfare sounded from everyone’s TV speakers to announce the findings. The scientists were united on the cause of The Rumble – the big cleanup of pavements, done the night before, was to blame for the instability of the city. It stripped all the chewing gums off the ground, harming the delicate structure of the city and damaging its skeleton. They told us to wait in our homes for further instructions.
I poured my flatmate a large glass of gin and tonic and joined her on the balcony of our flat. It was a converted Victorian house, divided by cardboard walls into five separate tiny flats. Sometimes we laughed at the fact that only one family used to live in the whole house – I mean, who would ever need this much space? And imagine the endless cleaning and vacuuming. "Thank Fuck For the Lack of Space" was the last year's Tory campaign slogan, and whether you agreed or not with the Tories, this one hit all of us pretty hard.
She took the glass from my hand and asked me what I thought about the announcement.
“Well, I mean, I’d rather not think about it, you know?” I said anxiously. “It’s just all so weird, I always thought
gums were just litter. And what a strange activity it is – chewing and spitting out. And chewing some more and spitting
out. But I think, maybe, I don’t know... Maybe there was some meaning in it? Maybe in this mindless act of littering, in the
mechanical impulse to dispose of the used, we were all collectively building this city? You know, physically combining
human DNA from saliva with pavements? Sounds like a metaphor we’ve all been missing. And what is the city if there
isn’t anything human left in it?”
With a shaky hand, I took a huge gulp of my drink.
My flatmate looked at me, squinting her eyes. “Or maybe you’re overreacting a little? And anyway, you sound a bit
political. Just relax, it’s all fine.” She shot me a big smile.
Admittedly, I’ve always had a tendency to overthink and worry.
“You're right,” I said with a sigh. It was just my mind playing tricks on me.
A piece of loose brick, falling from the building above smashed my gin glass.
“By tomorrow this new, unthinkable thing will be our boring normality.”
The day has passed, the novelty wore off. We all crawled to work on all fours and couldn’t remember how the world has come to this.
