Soil-on-to-logic is a proposal for long term engagement, a time for speculation, a refusal of binary formations and most probably a space for (un)learning in public. It’s a sneaking suspicion following me, of what it means to be a creator? The creator of something. What is produced in these hands and what is reproduced in common sphere? And the other way around. Trying to deal with, understand complexities, take responsibility and (un)learn has never been comfortable. Transition is often both painful and relieving, pleasurable and confusing. And it means to sometimes fumble around blinded by the sun and to insist on things I’m certainly not sure about. I hate to fail, and maybe that is, in a way, what (un)learning is all about.
There are a lot of urgencies on my mind, things to deal with, things to handle. Slowly I have felt the need for a slower reaction, a change of perspective, a stillness in frustration. A beginning of the possibility to untangle my own me? Writing me as in me out of the story I know. Who am I anyway in a body full of mes and its? “What if the ways we respond to crisis is part of the crisis? What if there are other spaces of power? What if we can touch those spaces of power and be touched in return?”(Bayo Akomolafe)
The exhibition contains a performative installation and the film Weathering Heights; a poetic speculation of how the term "weathering" (as coined by A. Neimanis and R. Loewen Walker) could be translated into a narrative form and dramaturgy, using and refusing filmic conventions.
