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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. | ||
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===== '''THE RESULT''' ===== | ===== '''THE RESULT''' ===== |
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