hen the surrounding world turns into dark clouds of uncertainty and immerses into the unknown, you rush to scream in your garage-the rehearsal room of life. The growling therapy brings temporary relief. After some time the egg walls of the rehearsal room of life start getting closer, they’re pushing on you, the peaks of their pyramids are stabbing your hips and elbows, they are now nearly touching each other and it’s getting unbearably tight inside. So you’re running away again, this time you’re heading outside, to spread your jacket like wings and find solace in the company of other individuals. Therapy through camaraderie and fermented grain brings temporary relief. This pattern is repeated monotonously, just like prehistoric cyclic time did. It’s exhausting. You’re contemplating – why is this happening, are you to blame, can you do something about it? The feeling of anxiety is undeniably entangled with the fact, that something is around you. You realize that you are inside and you are starting to comprehend the impossibility to leave. But where even are you, inside of what is it? Is it in the surrounding world? In the rehearsal room of life? Or is it just you? You feel no Eden of the heart, only the anxiety-ridden maze of the grey cerebral cortex. Move anywhere and the maze is still there, it’s all around, it’s still inside you. You wish to escape. You have to say ACAB to your inner cop.

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The core of a collaborative project Shelter of Trust is formed by an artistic duo that fluidly ramifies into further minds, hands, and hearts for the purposes of individual interventions. Their projects are usually presented in the form of short-term pop-up exhibitions in atypical exhibiting spaces, most lately in Riga, Athens, or Prague. Their talent is the ability to create appealing and aesthetically provocative installations that address the themes of autonomy, anarchy, punk, and alternative subcultures through certain dirtiness and pop-cultural quotes.

— Šimon Kadlčák