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Sit wherever you like

Studio practice, 2014

The studio has been parted in two, and now consist of one room currently housing every item from the old space, and something reminding of a green room. The walls are fabric, the floor is a light beige carpet and two institution-like chairs stand facing each other like the ones on daytime-tv talkshows. There is no roof, so the facade the room itself is, is never hidden to the visitor. 


During my illness, I saw five different doctors, suggesting five different diagnoses and five different cures. They all had what I would presume is a standard-looking office. A room constructed for conversation. All had multiple chairs, some had a sofa. All had a desk, and a chair designated for that particular piece of furniture. All greeted me with the sentence "sit wherever you like". One thing that struck me was that all but the chair clearly belonging to the desk, and therefore out of my reach, had boxes of kleenex discreetly arranged in arms-length distance.


These were all rooms designed to make the visitor get emotional, i deducted. And due to my apparent childishness, I refused to follow that indication and opted for a weird, tragic comedic approach. There is something bizarre with a room designed to fulfil one function. There are no objects pointing to another way of acting inside them, and it always feels a bit awkward as a visitor. it is like you are involuntary acting in a theatre play you did not agree to be the lead act in. 

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