Day Before This Place
06 Aug - 07 Sep 2013
DAY BEFORE THIS PLACE
6 August - 7 September 2013
Ben Schumacher
Bradley Kronz
Carlos Reyes
Dena Yago
Jason Matthew Lee
Keith Farquhar
Marlie Mul
Curated by Tara Downs
That morning, as the band of the treadmill moved at six miles per hour beneath her trainers, a news story flashed on the screen suspended from the low hanging drop-ceiling. “Chinese Woman Stuck Between Walls Mistaken For A Ghost, Rescued 7 Hours Later.”
That evening, outside of the opening, a pack was opened and presented to her.
Relaying the story: “She was walking home, trying to take a shortcut in some province in China. She was halfway down the alleyway when she couldn’t move any further. She couldn’t go forward or backwards. I’m not really sure how that happens, but it happened.”
Pause, and the passing of a cigarette from one hand to another.
“The tenants of the buildings on either side of her thought that her cries for help were the cries of a ghost transitioning into the afterlife.”
Thin smoke traveled upwards from the cigarette's resting place.
“The tenants called the cops, saying there was a ghost between their walls. The cops ignored them. God, she spent the night just pancaked in those walls.”
The smoke trail had thinned.
“It wasn’t until the next morning when this “passerby” also heard her calling for help, that the cops finally responded.”
Secondary drag of a shared cigarette.
“I don’t really get what make’s this passerby a passerby; it’s not like they just passed her by while they were also taking this alleyway shortcut. How do you pass by a woman that’s sandwiched in an alleyway.”
Smoke drawn inwards, and the cigarette placed gently on a sliver of metal, unextinguished.
“Doesn’t really make sense.”
The powdered grey ash fell, indistinguishably, into the dirty snow below.
“I’ve had that feeling in New York, where we have entrances with two doors and one buzzer. You press the buzzer, wait until you’re buzzed in, only to find that the interior door needed to be buzzed as well. You hadn’t moved quickly enough to push both doors simultaneously. And you’re stuck. You need to go back outside to buzz again, holding the exterior door open as you reach outside to buzz, and then move quickly enough to open both doors. Or you’re stuck and have to call your friend to buzz again, or come down to meet you at the interior door.”
The cigarette was extinguished leaving a dense charcoal ring on the metal sliver that went unnoticed.
Dena Yago
7/16/13
New York City
6 August - 7 September 2013
Ben Schumacher
Bradley Kronz
Carlos Reyes
Dena Yago
Jason Matthew Lee
Keith Farquhar
Marlie Mul
Curated by Tara Downs
That morning, as the band of the treadmill moved at six miles per hour beneath her trainers, a news story flashed on the screen suspended from the low hanging drop-ceiling. “Chinese Woman Stuck Between Walls Mistaken For A Ghost, Rescued 7 Hours Later.”
That evening, outside of the opening, a pack was opened and presented to her.
Relaying the story: “She was walking home, trying to take a shortcut in some province in China. She was halfway down the alleyway when she couldn’t move any further. She couldn’t go forward or backwards. I’m not really sure how that happens, but it happened.”
Pause, and the passing of a cigarette from one hand to another.
“The tenants of the buildings on either side of her thought that her cries for help were the cries of a ghost transitioning into the afterlife.”
Thin smoke traveled upwards from the cigarette's resting place.
“The tenants called the cops, saying there was a ghost between their walls. The cops ignored them. God, she spent the night just pancaked in those walls.”
The smoke trail had thinned.
“It wasn’t until the next morning when this “passerby” also heard her calling for help, that the cops finally responded.”
Secondary drag of a shared cigarette.
“I don’t really get what make’s this passerby a passerby; it’s not like they just passed her by while they were also taking this alleyway shortcut. How do you pass by a woman that’s sandwiched in an alleyway.”
Smoke drawn inwards, and the cigarette placed gently on a sliver of metal, unextinguished.
“Doesn’t really make sense.”
The powdered grey ash fell, indistinguishably, into the dirty snow below.
“I’ve had that feeling in New York, where we have entrances with two doors and one buzzer. You press the buzzer, wait until you’re buzzed in, only to find that the interior door needed to be buzzed as well. You hadn’t moved quickly enough to push both doors simultaneously. And you’re stuck. You need to go back outside to buzz again, holding the exterior door open as you reach outside to buzz, and then move quickly enough to open both doors. Or you’re stuck and have to call your friend to buzz again, or come down to meet you at the interior door.”
The cigarette was extinguished leaving a dense charcoal ring on the metal sliver that went unnoticed.
Dena Yago
7/16/13
New York City