The warehouse
The loading bay
The dusty basement
The plastic bags
The paper box
The enclosed space where my pockets, my hair, my hands, my lungs
are like an ocean
Ocean filled with lifeless material
I can relate now
to the big foamy waves
and the floating rubber, plastic and whatnots
The objects explored in the series are the random elements any worker in a warehouse would touch, attach, detach, throw in the bin, forget in his/her pocket, find in his/her hair, accidentally or not, every day puzzle of pieces. These plastic/rubber/paper objects have something similar - they all form a union with another object, they function as holders, attachments, coming together to remind us of a contract we never signed, but always kept in mind - the one with the material world.
For me - they are the junk in my ocean, the dance of immaterial fishes, the language of those ever-using, ever-spending, ever-throwing away, tiny reminders of the mass-production for the mass-discontented
The loading bay
The dusty basement
The plastic bags
The paper box
The enclosed space where my pockets, my hair, my hands, my lungs
are like an ocean
Ocean filled with lifeless material
I can relate now
to the big foamy waves
and the floating rubber, plastic and whatnots
The objects explored in the series are the random elements any worker in a warehouse would touch, attach, detach, throw in the bin, forget in his/her pocket, find in his/her hair, accidentally or not, every day puzzle of pieces. These plastic/rubber/paper objects have something similar - they all form a union with another object, they function as holders, attachments, coming together to remind us of a contract we never signed, but always kept in mind - the one with the material world.
For me - they are the junk in my ocean, the dance of immaterial fishes, the language of those ever-using, ever-spending, ever-throwing away, tiny reminders of the mass-production for the mass-discontented
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