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David Sprecher

Lindsey Dorr-Niro

 Closing Event

April 1st 3-7 pm

WEDGE 1448  W. Howard St. Chicago

Receivers (Beach)
We do do… Here here. Listening to things that listen to things that receive. Repeat that to affirm understanding: I hear you. We're here. Do, do, do… iterations across a mouth. I mean a room. A math. We do mean a room. Bark, foam, foam, foam the spines of a fish. Little shifts between vertebra. Tenses. Was, is, a crushed egg, a flat rock, a round pocket drilled by a trapped shell… in a tide. The tide. A little foam pocket for cradling a recorder. A whale's cochlea. Another. A ton of years in either direction, listening through the windows. The walls are listening and horizontal glass. Layers of glass like flat bells, skeletal and sea green. Here, here and here. It's waltzish. Around a little. Some blue bladder wrapped and then again over there. Bright red brackets for a game. Where the styrofoam is broken it looks like limestone. Where the concrete is broken it looks like sea foam. A chunk of buoy eaten by salt. A dolphin's scapula. Calcium and such. Breakers. Maybe the show is called Beach. 
Listening to things that listen to things that receive. Repeat that to affirm understanding: I hear you. 
Receivers (Beach) is born out of an attentional kinship-cum-partnership committed to a shared disposition and practice of receptivity. Unfolding over a three-month period as an emergent installation, fragments of disused styrofoam packaging coupled with rectangular sheets of glass together form a precarious, ever-evolving, site-responsive infrastructure. Atop, through, underneath, and around this floating infrastructure, assorted detritus, fragments of formerly functional objects, and cast forms constellate and flow as a dynamic array dispersed throughout the space. This evolving compositional array, though repeatedly punctuated by synthetic materials and objects so removed from their earthly origins, ultimately points us back to the elemental. 

Here, the vinyl tile is sand. Here, the glass is water. Beautiful ruins or gleaning possibility from what seems ruined. Perhaps what seemed/seems devoid of life is actually the starting point – the meeting point – the threshold for a different kind of life. A different kind of vision. A different kind of hearing. Here, we can begin again. And again.


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