This must be metaphysical, because if it’s not, it’s lonely.
Because I often feel a rickety kind of discontent while swimming through the internet. It’s private and cold. A tunnel between forms.
For the purpose of this show, we choose metaphysical.
In this show, Entry For It’s Heaven, It’s Fine, the tender void happens between frames, between isolated points in a timeline that we reproduce in digital story: infinite and infinitely replaceable. It’s the physical space that we couldn’t afford.