"the times wont save you (this rain smells of memory)"
an installation and other moments by Know Hope (Tel Aviv, Israel)
Opening Reception: June 4, 2009, 7-10pm
Exhibition: June 4th-July 2nd
Carmichael Gallery in West Hollywood
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in continuation of this storyline, or any storyline for that matter, we turn to become vulnerable to the times. these are the anytimes. the end of the world comes and goes, it seems, on a regular basis.
that said, this chapter, or episode functions as the embodiment of the signs of things to come- a telegram or bottle rocket from elsewhere, that in clumsy dialect is telling us that we must overcome.
the times are happening in real time.
the naturally inevitable dynamics of every fear, hope or premonition we could ever have.
and as we feel the times rising upwards like a flood, were standing here knee-deep with our fingers crossed while we hope-fully plea, "we'll be after everything someday".
this rain smells of memory. memories creating themselves in real time.
and so its written in the usual but eerily accurate headlines, its written all over our weary faces.
tattooed on our eyelids so when we sleep we are speaking dreams of elsewhere, and subtly and secretly confessing our desperate love for our busted surroundings, and anything or anyone inhabiting them;
and so in that same clumsy, but very eager dialect, we speak a born-again stutter, "the times wont save you, your embracing of them will."
this exhibition holds nothing but a reflection of where we are now, and offers us nothing but the suggestion of adaptation and (re)adjustment to the current tides.
this is a binding burden, and we're all in this together.
an installation and other moments by Know Hope (Tel Aviv, Israel)
Opening Reception: June 4, 2009, 7-10pm
Exhibition: June 4th-July 2nd
Carmichael Gallery in West Hollywood
--------------------------------------------------------
in continuation of this storyline, or any storyline for that matter, we turn to become vulnerable to the times. these are the anytimes. the end of the world comes and goes, it seems, on a regular basis.
that said, this chapter, or episode functions as the embodiment of the signs of things to come- a telegram or bottle rocket from elsewhere, that in clumsy dialect is telling us that we must overcome.
the times are happening in real time.
the naturally inevitable dynamics of every fear, hope or premonition we could ever have.
and as we feel the times rising upwards like a flood, were standing here knee-deep with our fingers crossed while we hope-fully plea, "we'll be after everything someday".
this rain smells of memory. memories creating themselves in real time.
and so its written in the usual but eerily accurate headlines, its written all over our weary faces.
tattooed on our eyelids so when we sleep we are speaking dreams of elsewhere, and subtly and secretly confessing our desperate love for our busted surroundings, and anything or anyone inhabiting them;
and so in that same clumsy, but very eager dialect, we speak a born-again stutter, "the times wont save you, your embracing of them will."
this exhibition holds nothing but a reflection of where we are now, and offers us nothing but the suggestion of adaptation and (re)adjustment to the current tides.
this is a binding burden, and we're all in this together.