Spencer Lai, 2020
Written for the event of Bronte Stolz's exhibition 'New Work' at Discordia Gallery
Even I am not perceptive to the faint tremor of cartoon forcefields. Their rendering in hues or purple or light blue, electronic pulses and colour palette of centuries of game design and environment texture modding an eccholation of yesteryear’s exposition.
The scope of understanding of our immediate and peripheral environment, or the intangible presence that enshrouds form and bodies. I imagine this to be of shades of lilac, or violet.
To sharpen oneself, to sharpen one’s mind into a concentrated finite and therefore acerbic pointed edge, to coerce a matriculation of joints and extremities of the body to a single point in the Cartesian Plane. Like if Tom or Jerry sucked too hard on a bottle, the character’s entire cranial structure is withdrawn into the bottle itself.
To take mass as if it was never on the table for supper and you are later reported to be essentially thieving these goods in a hungrily desperate manner. Etchings of thieves at market bazaars. The NPC thieves are cunning: the AI works in such a way that is realistic, their movements are silent, swift and agile. An arm sweeps a wonderful bracelet in turquoise and lapis into a filthy loincloth sack.
Have you ever laughed at a joke that wasn’t funny, your teeth jutted forward and exposed to the elements, head tilted backwards,hocking for air, squinted eyes towards your opponent?
The warped sound of forced laughter, passing through bared teeth.
I have met someone new.
Perhaps, more accurately, I have met someone that I was not aware of.
They had, indeed, existed before we had met -- with their life and their body, with their thoughts, with their problems inside their head, walking around in this Kindgom-World.
When getting to know a person, It is common to exchange personal information and experiences.
I provide a set of statements about who I am, what I like, what I prefer. We walk around the magnificent and well-kept gardens, pointing out various flower-structures or leaf-structures.
I find it amusing when I find a particularly interesting cloud-structure that resembles the form-function of my past dead Kingdom-partner, Nubik-2. Of course, I keep this information to my-Self -- I only allow a wry smile-expression to form on my face, a twitching of nerves which I like to think is Nubik-2 temporarily taking over my brain function, creating this smile-expression as memory-tribute.
The Kingdom-partner-ceremony is a tremendous display of decadence.
Afterwards, Nubik-3 is exhausted from the proceedings of the sacrifice-ceremony in the early afternoon, but seemingly pleased to be together with me.
After some decades of ruling the Kingdom with my new Kingdom-partner, I fall prey to a physical assault which unfortunately ends my life earlier than anticipated.
The assailant is a personal servant. He lands multiple blows to my cranium and frontal cortex, the severity of the impact to my brain that my death is sudden and rather anticlimactic. Scrolls of parchment record a few signs of struggle after losing consciousness, forever.
My Kingdom-people are sad to learn this information. They hold their head in their hands and lean over countertops, or tables, crying as their body jerks in violent spasmodic rhythms, uhnn uhnn uhhnnnnnnn, etc. Each Kingdom-person wears articles of clothing, garments, to keep them warm, cool or comfortable, depending on the weather, situation or environment.