LOST TOUCH WITH / HONEY I’M ALL YOURS

Under every surface there is material, and every material has a surface. The surface forms a connection to another place. I rub it obsessively, like trying to pierce through it. The invisible layer becomes visible only with my oily fingerprints. I touch the glass as if it were your skin, the surface stays cool regardless of my caress. Apathetic and reluctant expressions reflected on top of your pictures. I position my body towards the door so that if you join me, you’ll see my better side. Electricity hums in my ears as your body collides the surface. Movie marathons and fantasies transport to other spaces. Clammy bed sheets stick to the skin, and opaque horses race in the air. Time passes, yet stays still. A room, a space like a hotel. Monochromatic and pale, clear surfaces and transparent layers. Ghosts from different times, different situations, different emotional states. When the surface breaks, I bandage it with a tape – does not withstand abrasion anymore.

The number you have dialed cannot be reached.

The skin contains the self and us, and as a surface it simultaneously isolates and contains the possibility for connection1. The exhibition ponders on the experience of alienation in relation to corporeality, touch and the formation of connection, when the connection with oneself and others is in a process of being lost. Indifferent melancholy creeps into everyday life – alienation produces absent bodies.