A large beer and a half-liter room-temperature water bottle

“Looking at the exhibition’s works, we keep thinking about Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism. Fisher was a teacher and, by observing the behavior of his students, he elaborated that idea of depressed hedonia. As we understand his words, in a society that imposes unrestrained enjoyment – the dopamine rush produced by notifications and social media likes, same-day deliveries of whatever we wish for, the possibility of immediately obtaining any information – all this stuff totally erases the concept of desire, and in the long run prevents us from being happy. Basically, the impossibility of accessing pleasure paradoxically occurs because we are totally and daily subjected to microdoses of pleasure. Every calculated action, every flattened thought, every controlled movement—all of this causes constant daily enjoyment without pleasure. Now, what kind of aesthetic can arise from this context?”

“Dlu dlu dlu. Dluuu. Dlu dludlu. Dlu. Dludludlu dlu. Dluuu dluuu.”

“Yes. We, too, think that this abundance of pointed shapes comes from there. The excess of information and communication that characterizes our time was anticipated, or rather introduced, by the adoption of the goose quill in the 10th century in French chancelleries. Before that, people used the calamus, which was some kind of pointed stick that had to be continuously dipped in ink. The goose quill, on the other hand, stored more ink, allowing for smoother, faster and seamless writing. Cursive was born then, and consequently the mass production of information. And from there also Gothic architecture was born, driven by the need for larger windows to illuminate vast rooms where a large number of officers worked, all of them writing in cursive with their pens. So, this going back to sharp and angular calamus lines seems like a return to the crossroads of goose quill and information.”

“Dlu. Dludlu dludlu. Dlu dlu dlu.”

“That’s right. The calamus stroke that meets surrealist automatic writing through digital culture.”
“Dlu dlu dludlu dlu, dlu dlu. Dlu dludlu.”
“Yes.”
“Dlu dlu. Dlu, dludlu dlu. Dluuuu.”
“You said it very well.”
“Dlu dlu. Dluuu.”
“Out of curiosity, what is your favorite artwork?”
“Dlu. Dlu dlu, dlu?”
“Yes ok, apart from you. It’s not fair to quote yourself.”
“Dludlu. Dludlu dlu dludlu. Dludlu?”
“We really love that too. We know it is a very broad question, but which direction do you think the evolution
of this thought will take?”
“Dludlu dludlu dlu, dludlu dlu dludludludludlu dludlu dludlu dlu. Dludlu, dlu dlu dlu dludludlu dlu dludlu,
dlu dludlu dlu dlu dlu. Dlu, dludlu dlu, dludlu, dlu, dludludlu dludludlu dludludlu, dlu dlu. Dlu.”
“Of course.”
“Dlu dlu dlu, dlu. Dludludlu dludlu dludludlu dludlu, dlu dlu. Dlu dludludlu dludlu, dlu dludlu. Dlu,
dludludlu? Dludlu. Dludlu dludlu dlu? Dlu dlu dludlu. Dlu dlu.”
“Yes, sure, it makes sense, information moves in the dark.”
“Dlu dludludludludlu dlu dludlu dludludludludlu. Dlu? Dludlu! Dludlu dlu. Dludludlu. Dludlu dlu dludlu
dlu, dlu, dlu?”
“No, of course not, it would freeze.”
“Dludludlu dludlu dludlu dludlu dludludlu dlu, dludlu dlu. Dlu.”
“Wow.”
“Dluuu dlu.”
“Let’s think about it for a moment. Now let’s go back up to get a drink. Do you want something?”
“Dlu dludlu. Dluuu.”

Text by
Treti Galaxy
Traslated by
Giulia Lenti, Victoria Cornacchia