Part of the Ljubljana Biennial of Graphic Arts in Ljubljana, Slovenia.

Here is a tunnel. You enter by pulling on a rubber tube that is snaking out through a sheet of wood. The wood slides out with a woosh, like the draw where you keep the cutlery. A bell clatters noisily.

The tunnel is dark, what little light there is filters groggily through a row of water bottles that hang gracelessly from the roof.

You notice that the walls of the tunnel have been eaten away, leaving a spotted record of woozy perforations.

You reach into one of the lopsided orifices and your hand meets a pile of cool, greasy metal. Drawing in close in order to see more, you find springs, nuts, gears and other unnamable components inhabiting the hole. Inspecting the other holes you find many other collections of differentiated matter: plastic, paper, vessels, compost, items colourful to look at.

From somewhere down the tunnel the sound of dripping waters meets your ear.

You turn a corner to leave and a voice, didactic but inviting and with a distinct Slovenian accent whispers to you.

“Dismantle what’s here. Rearrange what’s here. Move what’s here. Use what’s here. Pass on what’s here. Write about what’s here.”

As you push in the door you have just exited through a loud clash rings out. The sound is tinny and vulgar, as though a gong made from a dismembered bicycle pump had issued it.


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