My first time at 95 GG. All empty beige and brown.
Deranged ceiling structure full of pipes and white bright lights
and spikes coming out. A heavily worn concrete floor which I bet never missed their 10k steps. A mirror at least.
We filled it all with chairs we took from the high end swanky hotel next door. Later the chairs were filled with curious eyes and crossed legs. All I got from the screening and the Q&A coming after is that a society of cells where some become corrupted by infections are forming real wars inside organisms. The whole thing felt refreshing but quite confusing to find outside an immaculate lecture room with a built-in projector.
‘One Cell at a Time’ they were saying.
‘Indeed’ I said to myself.
Then my second time for ‘Some of Us are Brave’ opening.
All full, warm and colorful. Everyone talked very gently and smiled at me while drinking frizz.
The industrial classroom became a living renaissance party painting this time.
Over the years every display felt like a score every single person played differently, sometimes intentionally.
After that the comforting stillness wrapped you up with a blanket made of black coffee and blowing heaters.
We had the last supper once. Flowers were falling from the ceiling. We ate pizza surrounded by air sculptures dressed like arlequins. The table was filled by very delicate tapestries and aggressively contorted ceramic pieces which carried a hope message each. LOVE THE WORLD AROUND YOU the show was called and I wish we could bring it to life once again. Nothing wrong with having the last supper twice.
We merged minds as a collective through the video game which explored the conceptual and ethical of emerging technologies for collective thinking.
The most interesting way to bring the visitors into a particular journey was unquestionably Estella Tse’s and her immersive reality forest. Fusion’s exhibitions team became experienced dramaturgists in order to translate correctly something as important as Estella’s healing journey was. I personally found the interaction between the audience and the digital pieces art per se.
Them posing next to AR sculptures or walking blindly around the room wearing a VR headset (most of them for the first time ever) evolved into a parallel piece of art composed by their reactions and their feedback which opened the original path into over three hundred mirrored trails towards each one’s thrive.
“We, 174,183 on The Waiting List demand allotments”
A ‘10 pole’ sized seeded paper banner was created, mostly in silence. The whole space turned into a closed doors studio where a ritual of pure mimicry was hosted over and over for five days. It was a very meditative process that sharpened our senses and developed by mistake into some public performance art piece as the venue was often surrounded by groups of people looking at us whilst we dried Amazonian ashes to 'stinky' organic glue paste.
Tetiten Swarane: Hear the Seeds sing.
The space welcomed an arts collective from Yogyakarta who artistically responded to the climate crisis surrounding us by Cowogan mantras and rituals. A mural was painted on site for the duration of the show applying once again the performative as well as meditative element to something as important as the fight for equal land rights.
Fabrics, branches and other found objects built the way to rediscover Ismael’s afro Caribbean roots. The concrete of the space never felt more organic than surrounded by shells and sculptures and paintings with bright oranges and greens. The whole exhibition felt like a static paradisiac sunset where the flowy old school capoeira movements and the modernity of synth-made music were invited to reign alongside every single natural clay one’s own bibelot made by the attendees of their workshops.
Then a pijama party
Then a display for rare plants
Then someone was playing drums
more than once
Then someone else built a fort
Then giants
Then sunflowers
Then snails
We sewed protest
They sold comics
and prints
Then electronic music
Then networking
Then a theatre play
Then we had a bed
on a set
Then dreams
Then seeds
…
Thousands of people swayed around over the years following, being part and leaving behind a series of cultural annotations that will be part of the building’s memory forever.
95 Gloucester Green you will be forever missed,
Carmen
