you were high when I was doomed

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So, we were on Skype with IMT Gallery’s director Lindsay Friend who said, “Take a walk around the block and put down what you have just seen.” She leans back in her chair [does she have a favourite chair designer? Insert make/model], her eyes wandering round the top of the room as if a thousand ghostly pictures were suspended there, “The show is a bricolage of elements, a canvas of what we’ve just seen, mashed up to create new possibilities.” We think she be testing us.

In shock, not sure how to respond. So the show is curated by committee via Skype, we got it mouth-to-mouth. The works can be remnants – an old abandoned sci-fi movie city – but the images have gone dark or been rewritten – they were scraps of cars (“…half a person cut in two by a car…”), underground inhibitors / black-market statins (“…reflections in shop windows…”) a nuclear missile (“…passing faces, a jumble of fragments…”) everything marked, everything 'membered.

We are looking behind us now, across the count of time, down the long haul, what remains of the artefacts of contemporary listless, aporetic modernity. An earlier email reads: “It's a show that has something to do with endings and afterendings. Scrappy fragments are good for mulch. Frames make good screens. Rebuilding a future.” You wait, you'll see.

#IwasDoomed