The art gallery is a weird phenomenon. What exactly are we looking for when we step into that white cube? Maybe reflection of ourselves. Or an inanimate object to connect with and revere its splendour.
How much would you pay for an object embodying this precious experience? Perhaps the tease of unattainability of the object is what heightens the moment. Would you take it if it was free?
closing party (friday 4-7pm @ weserstrasse 11, friedrichshain-berlin)
re: Dickson Schneider's thurday exhibition @ tapir