In the bottom floor of the exhibit, there are 2 panes of glass suspended from the ceiling. They hang parallel to one another and have different sized holes in seemingly random places. They are just… there.
Everything is so opaque. I have no idea in the world how to ascertain the intention of these works. I can stare through the holes in the glass or trace the shadows but my mind is occupied by all the noise. So so so much noise. I suppose that’s the point? Noise of observation? Noise of hot takes, fluffy words, and calls to action that are there only to be filtered out.
That’s not what a bullet hole looks like.
I’m not gonna lie, it makes me feel dumb. I’m so divorced from the context despite it being right in front of me. Why does this go over my head? Why can’t I see through the glass?
That’s not what a bullet hole looks like.
There is abundant context projecting the intended meaning on something so clear. Feedback, there’s so much feedback from the chair, from everywhere, from everything. I can’t focus, I can’t keep myself from painting my own meaning on these works.
And here I am. I project my own noisy observation on window panes. I know we’re surrounded by noise, that’s why I was hoping for quiet.
You know the ventilation in the building is amazing. I mean, you have all these things hanging. There’s probably only and ariflow of like 25, but the place is really comfortable, especially with so many windows.
Why am I so disconnected? Branches and wires and bandaid tins and glass and cages and air vents.
Why do I see only the parts?
Cold Critical 