Someone told me that I should be writing about the exhibition, as it’s something rather important and it’s happening right now.
Whereas it is indeed something that literally shapes my days and consumes a lot of my energy, I think you all know better. Well that and the fact that I still need to bring the photos of the vernissage to the lab.
That’s why I wrote about non-related issues before and that is why I will do the same now.
Domesticity is what defines me these days. I am, as anyone, consumed by my own sense of self-awareness and the fact that I spend a lot of time outside the house (at the gallery, that is), makes me all the more inclined to be more observing of my own domestic gestures, as if I was being looked at by some strange creature that is other than me.
The strange creature is satisfied to see me focusing on every.single.gesture to tame anxiety, like in any well-respected (and much loathed) self-help book, where it reads “to calm down, focus on every gesture and remind yourself that you are cooking, cutting the onion, washing the dishes”.
All in all, it seems like a dull exercise, the one you do precisely to avoid leaving anxiety free range.
However, as I was implying in the previous paragraph, before dwelling in the semi-critique of a self-help book, sometimes this kind of focusing happens all by itself when you have achieved what you were trying to do for months. You have managed to put fences around you so that your life has finally been given a certain rhythm: morning, cats, mail, breakfast, email, gallery, reading, writing, home, dinner, various types of entertainment in or outside, reading, sleeping.
It’s much like the calm before the storm. In my head at least.