linger too long
2025
Studio 8304, Paris
4-channel sound loop (7 min), exciters, amplifiers, smartphones, found objects: driving belts, silk scarf, reflectors, Maneki Neko, glass shelf, black glass plate, blanket, curtain, metal pipe, rubber seal, gate lock frame system, bike tyres, mattrass foam, acrylic glass cover, hospital blanket, table frame, transport secure elastic cord, lady bug, electronic massage belt, electric back massager relax mat, acrylic shelf, carpet, fruit net, peanuts, flowers and fruits from the potager du roi, ziploc bags, reflective film, loose plastic parts, aluminium plate, tent pole, little tree air freshener, spectacle lens, mycelium, packaging material, jacket, walnut, asphalt sticker, mounting adapter, hairband, comb, paperweight, plastic bottle, plastic jerrycan, water from the Seine, stone, corrugated pipe, Audi logo, foam edge protectors, windscreen frame, lace paper coaster, slippers, chestnut, olive oil pourer, anti-glare glass packaging, earbuds case, brake shoe.
Studio 8304, Paris
4-channel sound loop (7 min), exciters, amplifiers, smartphones, found objects: driving belts, silk scarf, reflectors, Maneki Neko, glass shelf, black glass plate, blanket, curtain, metal pipe, rubber seal, gate lock frame system, bike tyres, mattrass foam, acrylic glass cover, hospital blanket, table frame, transport secure elastic cord, lady bug, electronic massage belt, electric back massager relax mat, acrylic shelf, carpet, fruit net, peanuts, flowers and fruits from the potager du roi, ziploc bags, reflective film, loose plastic parts, aluminium plate, tent pole, little tree air freshener, spectacle lens, mycelium, packaging material, jacket, walnut, asphalt sticker, mounting adapter, hairband, comb, paperweight, plastic bottle, plastic jerrycan, water from the Seine, stone, corrugated pipe, Audi logo, foam edge protectors, windscreen frame, lace paper coaster, slippers, chestnut, olive oil pourer, anti-glare glass packaging, earbuds case, brake shoe.
The para-pragmatic is the humility of drift. It is the minor gesture that does not scale. It is fidelity to the crack. It is the refusal to plug holes in the levee of the real without first listening to the water. It is what surfaces when we notice that doing something often does something else entirely (Báyò Akómoláfé).
A ticking sound emanates from the back of the room. Plastic meets glass. Each time the tiny pendulum bumps into the glass, the resonance is broken, it stutters, starts anew, and finds its rhythm once again just to lose it once more. The unpredictability of the ticking is slightly distressing. Someone nearby is humming, it takes me a moment to recognize the base line of the «Mission Impossible» theme - bam bam - bam bam bam bam, time signature 5/4. The person bends under one of the black strips dissecting the space, gets caught on the strip, and sends a pulse through the whole room. Grins apologetically. Inside the pocket, a phone lights up: «Someone likes you», the glow warming the thigh, the warmth percolating into the skin.
In the same room, there is an ulcer. A discontinuity in a membrane that gradually burns through a wall. The perforation allows the stomach contents to leak into the outer abdominal cavity. The cavity needs to be punctured to drain the liquid. The liquid is collected in a handy transparent plastic bottle, allowing us to witness the progress. Simultaneously, a syringe pump and an infusion pump deliver precise doses of liquids into the body. The bed sheets are embroidered with «Assistance Publique Hôpiteaux de Paris 2023», green thread through yellow cloth – this is the second time I’ve come across this embroidery. Later, I am told that the «Hôpital de la Salpêtrière» itself takes its name from its former function as a gunpowder factory. Saltpeter providing oxygen, allowing the mixture to expand even within confined spaces.
Every time I open the lid, gaseous petrol leaks into the air. To the petrol left in the plastic jerrycan, I add water from the Seine, mixing the city. Accompanied by the warm air, I climb up the metro air vent. Upon reaching the top and sticking my head through the grate, somebody spots me, emanating a high-pitched sound. We have become symbols of disease, but we are just messengers of the niches created by humans. I attach a hanging water dispenser to the jerrycan, a small gesture of conciliation and care.
In the 18th arrondissement, close to the inner ring of Paris Périphérique, in an aggregation of urban debris, lies a golden Maneki-Neko in the evening sun. It looks almost new, except the arm is missing. As soon as I pick it up, a soft up-tempo ticking is hearable. Taking a closer look at the orifice where the arm once was fixed, I see that the mechanism is still going. Phantom waving. What keeps it going? Fear? Exposure? Joy?
A thing that occupies a space where transaction is meant to be swift. Across the sidewalk, «side» and «walk» describing the expected movement and location, lie some branches partly crystallized, catching the light. They look like how I imagine fossilized lightnings – the glassy masses that form when lightning discharges into grounds like clay. Gathering them scrapes the outermost layer of my fingertips, my fingertips attending to their qualities. Touch induces latency, to linger introduces drift.