In a medley of potential relationships to home and house, an associative Derivé of the private appears. Starting from - so I assume - a shared bed, framed by an old lamp which origins are unknown, guided from the seemingly most public room, through a signifier of privacy: a curtain. At this point we have already been introduced to all the ghostly occupants of the home, however, we will only find out as much later.
Like the inversion of public and private in the architectural living room, the perspectives are reversed as well. Starting from an incredibly detailed view with tiny characters and intimate insights, we maneuver through mementos of relationships with the home and stumble over artifacts of being on the move until we are confronted with models of places never known. Truly, a shared psychogeographic experience uncannily oscillating between private and public, big picture and detail, intimate and unidentifiable. An unseizable yet noticeably precise mesh of critique, reproduction, endorsement and warfare evolve which are oh so confusing and unsettling but still so familiar, warm and positively em- bracing.
Shabby 3D-printed chairs meet loving melancholia, technopunk and the materials of the literal home- maker look each other dead in the eye with absolutely no fear while the accelerationist dystopia of cardboard delivery boxes from Amazon Prime recreate the architecture of a blurry European past.
Yes, the accelerationist dystopia meets a Derivé of the private. Within our own four walls. In our shared beds.