This is a patient exhibition. It chooses its words carefully, but then speaks them without hesitation. Its movements are slow but not tired, like someone who has laid out in the sun for too long. It’s blank but not mute, quiet but not frozen, absent but not ambivalent. It’s not in any rush—it enjoys the luxury of taking its time.
COMING SOON is an unperformance. It’s made of pauses, interruptions, loops, and delays. It’s a movie without a movie and a dance without a dance. Nothing happens on time.
Four screens slowly change from black to white and back again, while two voices whisper a few soft words to each other. The full cinematic arc of anticipation, climax, and loss is contained within this abstract fragment from a film that isn’t there. It is a story that has lost its linearity and finds itself between melancholy and suspense: it has already happened, it’s happening, and it hasn’t happened yet.
Large abstract paintings resemble blank cinema screens. Painted with cheap house paint on large scrolls of paper, they have yellowed considerably over the years, like an impossibly slow movie made of nothing but light, time, paper, and paint.
A room full of chandeliers also follows the speed of sunlight: they begin each morning on the ceiling and reach the floor by the end of each day. For those who know how to wait, it’s a true spectacle.
By the end of the exhibition, more chapters might be added to the story of COMING SOON. Let see.
Curated by Anthony Huberman