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The exhibition itself staged confusion. In Narva, visitors followed a handwritten riddle into a hidden room, the former projection booth, where a video played on faded wallpaper. What looked like a drone-shot ocean was, in truth, a stream of acidic water near the oil ash mountains. Ocean sounds layered with voices reading the poem—sometimes in unison, sometimes breaking apart. Visitors often couldn't tell what was artwork and what was leftover ruin. And we welcomed that. Confusion became a form of resistance to quick understanding. A way of sitting with the unknown. | The exhibition itself staged confusion. In Narva, visitors followed a handwritten riddle into a hidden room, the former projection booth, where a video played on faded wallpaper. What looked like a drone-shot ocean was, in truth, a stream of acidic water near the oil ash mountains. Ocean sounds layered with voices reading the poem—sometimes in unison, sometimes breaking apart. Visitors often couldn't tell what was artwork and what was leftover ruin. And we welcomed that. Confusion became a form of resistance to quick understanding. A way of sitting with the unknown. | ||
<gallery widths="500" heights="400"> | |||
File:MUSHroom1.jpg|© Nina Bendix Igleses | |||
File:MUSHroom3.jpg|© Nina Bendix Igleses | |||
</gallery> | |||
===== '''THE RESULT''' ===== | ===== '''THE RESULT''' ===== | ||
[[File:MUSHroom.jpg|thumb|316x316px|© Nina Bendix Igleses]] | |||
What we created was a multi-sensory, site-responsive ecopoetic installation a poem not just to be read, but to be inhabited. “MUSHroom blankSPACE” is an attempt to step into the psyche of wounded land, where the text is not just narrative but material: spaced like ribs, broken like memory, merging everything together in a MUSH space. | What we created was a multi-sensory, site-responsive ecopoetic installation a poem not just to be read, but to be inhabited. “MUSHroom blankSPACE” is an attempt to step into the psyche of wounded land, where the text is not just narrative but material: spaced like ribs, broken like memory, merging everything together in a MUSH space. | ||
In Narva, the work lived within its original environment. The old wallpaper, the hum of the architecture, the ambiguity between installation and decay became part of the experience. A small chair held a zine-book of the poem. The projection layered visuals and sound: toxic water disguised as sea, overlapping voices, and the fragile dissonance between beauty and harm. | In Narva, the work lived within its original environment. The old wallpaper, the hum of the architecture, the ambiguity between installation and decay became part of the experience. A small chair held a zine-book of the poem. The projection layered visuals and sound: toxic water disguised as sea, overlapping voices, and the fragile dissonance between beauty and harm. | ||
[[File:Weimar exhibition (5).jpg|thumb|© Eric Beck|left|375x375px]]At the Summary 2025 exhibition at Bauhaus University (July 10–13), the work took a different form. In a clean glass room overlooking the city, the projection played on a white screen. A long scroll of paper, again handwritten, unrolled across the table and floor, next to oil-shale stones and glass worn smooth by the sea. Visitors could listen through headphones, hearing the overlapping voices of the poem alongside ocean sound. The view outside invited a new kind of contemplation, distance, change of view and perspective. | |||
<gallery widths="300" heights="200"> | |||
File:Weimar exhibition MUSHroom.jpg|© Yue Wang | |||
File:Weimar exhibition.jpg|© Nina Bendix Igleses | |||
</gallery> | |||
In both versions, the work asked if we see the "MOSS", the small, persistent life, as important, challenging our definitions of value and purpose. The MUSHroom, like the poem itself, becomes an unlikely witness: a quiet, persistent thing, recreating itself from ruin, refusing to be erased. | In both versions, the work asked if we see the "MOSS", the small, persistent life, as important, challenging our definitions of value and purpose. The MUSHroom, like the poem itself, becomes an unlikely witness: a quiet, persistent thing, recreating itself from ruin, refusing to be erased. | ||
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