The gallery is currently closed while we install our upcoming exhibition
JE RELIS TES LIGNES
MARIE-MICHELLE DESCHAMPS, ELEONORE FALSE
April 21 - June 9
Opening: April 21, 3pm
REREADING TO THE POINT OF--
There is no telling how it will--
There’s no telling at all.
I have lost the plot, the non-(r)enumerated pages shuffled beyond reordering.
Glass loses its inherent purpose once it is broken, just like the violent/delicate illusion we collectively harboured, spume smacking the panels and frantically reminding us of our idiocy, the ephemera of it all.
The waves weave up, building.
Water in its most intricate structure manifests into brute force.
It is opaque in its transparency and its motives are too lucid to quite pin down.
Heraclitus once said that he was tired, and went for a nap.
He never emerged from the undercurrent, the water above changing at the maddening pace of someone preening for attention, shifting, Protean, from one position to the next, trying to catch the eye, any eye, but that one in particular.
Stephanie E. Creaghan