Living as a curator in the same apartment as the artists is a great and a strange experience. All of us often wonder if there are any cameras hidden in the ceilings, showing our daily life on some unknown tv channel on the other side of the world. Great experience because conversations are often getting pretty wild and crazily funny. Strange because you also share the moments of 'artistic' crisis... which are many.
Up to today, things were going smoothly. We finally succeeded in getting out of the city for a ride to the sea. Being in Australian nature seems like it's entering the Twilight Zone: everything looks the same, but everything is slightly different. Plants look like some cuckoo cousins of what we have in Europe. Birds are much bigger, colorful and louder. The sea is rejecting some giant seaweed and shellfish. And when you think you've seen enough, you happen to meet at the bend in the path a massive herd of kangaroos! Then the layer of representation has changed: you've entered Jurassic Park. And I didn't tell you about driving on the right side of the car. Extreme.
And today, the crisis. The 'disco' side of the installation is not resolved yet. Dan and Greg went to the theater department of the VCA to inquire about lightning. The result is way too showy. Too many spotlights and stages seen in art exhibitions lately. Now the mood is quite morose. What's the curator to do in these moments? Offering a beer and being nice... Not much.