“Oh enlightened satrap, chairman, grand master, your excellences, internet providers and masters of protocol, guardians of justice and morals, commission of commissions, masters of ceremonies, priestess and keeper of the old religion flame, DJ, elders, seers, council of mothers, shareholder meeting, presidium, one and ninety nine percent, members of the inner circle, advisor, consul, world managers, admiral, marketing director, sales manager, public relations specialist, revolutionaries, go-go dancer, anarchists and leftists. Welcome to the meeting!
To hell with data, falling prices and worsening statistics. There are times when I reflect too much on things, over analyzing and over thinking them. But today I want to celebrate. Although celebrating’s not easy – you can’t grumble, hide, or run away. I want to celebrate coincidences and little choices. I have good news – we will get away with it. There is the Lithuanian folk belief that animals in barns talk about the future on Christmas Eve, but you mustn’t listen to them because if you do, you’ll be struck dead. I remember when I was a child, we were celebrating Christmas Eve in the village, and I snuck out of the house and walked around in the squeaking snow – thinking I might hear something. That time I got away with it.
It’s uncomfortable to confess, perhaps unfashionable, and aren’t you ashamed for daring to complain? You’re privileged and blessed, but this get-together completes a difficult stage for me. This summer, which I spent by the sea trying to chill out and stuff, nearly finished me off. Now I realize I was listening to conversations and wanted answers that were not for me to know.
British scientists and Elon himself say there is a 99 percent probability that we are living in a simulation and as soon as we turn our backs a powerful universe computer stops rendering a reality that no one sees. I have a theory that when no one’s looking, things start to dance and smooch, and when you turn back around, they pretend everything’s normal. But where do our socks and keys go? I don’t think we need to explain that because of their physiological properties they simply don’t manage to get back to their places in time.”
Curator Neringa Bumblienė
September 10 – October 09, 2020
Photography: Robertas Narkus