Polystyrene flesh office is a shifting state. Static objects rest unactivated, their past lives inextricably linked with human experience. They are materials of anthropomass. We put them in our sacks. Natural and unnatural, we consider their origin and generate a response. Our OverallAnxiety, our creative impulses on display, taken to work, polystyrene carried to the office by flesh. Billboards leering at the top of their poles. The river that used to be there, disfigured by industry into a spillway. Concrete and steel. There used to be flesh in this river. They came and they built slaughterhouses and this river ran red. Now I can see polystyrene cups and plastic bags, I saw ducks, I saw terraformed dirt. I logged on when I got home and I saw how cool you all are. It was facebook at 3:30am what access! WHAT ACCESS!!!? Log in log off delete this delete that. Recently deleted folders clogged up more than the spillway. The spillway will flood, the Maribyrnong will burst her banks again. Log in, enter authentication code - welcome back. Mmmmm.
Can you smell the jet fuel?
Can you smell the jet fuel?
We are happy here in this office. Here in Mixed Zoning we can mix ourselves together. Multi levels multi options infinite configurations lead to infinite moments. You can fold in on yourself here. If you are gentle you can touch entities that welcome your embrace. Mirrored and janky angels guide us, fish in resin, flesh in cloth, the stage is set, pull on the chain pull on the chain. Now hush - they speak. They speak their truths absorbed and integrated through flesh-gathering-world-walking. Scurrying down rivers that were never terraformed, they howl to the moon stark, hysterical, naked. Wearing what they make, a body without rules, a chosen role of other.
All photos taken by Tamara Chicheva
