You’re the first through the gate. You prowl like the dogs packed and ranging in their territorial landscape, silently eyeing each other you are. It’s clear who’s in the ascendancy. They’re lying down from vertical to ground level lolling and rolling, hard and defiant. Their colour shifts across each individual, shaded with a subtlety lost in chemical treatments and smooth mechanical finishes. Pomegranates, olives, quinces and grapes make for a tantalising offering here in the Agora spread across your well-used rectangle of fabric and worth the money. The fragments are bits, chunks, stocked, stacked, rolled, salvaged, laid out, revealing slots and assembly methods, hidden means of elevation and connection. We know how to extract and shape it with a mix of olive oil and water to quench the overheating in the saw cut. Never a perfect cylinder you say but we’re not interested in perfection or what the earthquake will do when we’re dead.
Agora Izmir Turkey Jan 2018
The Naming 