‘[the task is] to cultivate and invent the arts of living with and for damaged worlds in place, […] as and for those living and dying in ruined places.’
-Donna J. Haraway
‘The permanence of experienced unity is not only impossible, it is aesthetically undesirable; for art requires the challenge of tension and disruptive novelty and rhythmic struggle of achievement and breakdown of order’
-Shusterman on Deway in Kagan’s Art and Sustainability
‘Mosaic’ explores the ‘unfinished, ongoing practice of living in the ruins’ (Anna Tsing), to contest the singular image through the complexity of broken parts. By creating fractured bodies out of ruins, embracing multi-corporeality and symbiotic identity it investigates how concepts such as cultures, home, territories, security, environment and identity are temporary structures, constantly shifted and shaped by its social, political and environmental milieu. Mosaic’s work thus leans into the transformative consequence of change and encourage fragmentation over time, as a way of integrating and adapting to a world in motion.
Lost between broken pieces. An old kingdom of perhaps natural phenomenons. The dust is settled and this space is forgotten. The sun is disappearing and it is getting dark here. Opposite Kino Kultura was there once a kafana – now it is gone and they are building a church there instead. Laurie Anderson’s words echo in my ear ” thank you for this time”. Nothing lasts and it is a burden to deal with. A burden to fill the time out and let it slip. A broken structure – a half smoked cigarette. A rope with two ends…. Things crumple and leaves peace for other structures, other materials.
Stone becomes dust. Stone becomes houses, that becomes dust. Relations become love, become hate, becomes passion, become empathy, become dust… What is forgotten becomes dusty. Hold the earth, hold things in balance. Can only last so long – there is a limit of energy or remaining before transforming. We have our limits: a limit of settlement, of balance, of energy, of heartbreak, of bones, of love, of home. Forgotten cobwebs everywhere, dusty and broken, we all move on – we have to – breathe, breath again, breathe again and so on… we always lose part of ourselves – give it away. Donate and get our home broken into, letting our lungs decay. Whisper a word. Unfold and collapse. Unfold and collapse. Make love to me and close the door, before I regret everything we have built up together.