The exhibit consists of simultaneous, ongoing performances in five rooms from which viewers, one by one, can enter and exit. As each viewer enters a room, lights go up slowly.

ROOM ONE

A white sparsely furnished room. A window on the side wall, with slanted window blinds. A bed with light, white bedding. Instead of the night tables, minimal shelves extend by each side of the headboard. There are a couple red solo cups, a cell phone, and a vape. On the bed a handsome naked man starts to wake up, groggy, reaches for water. We can hear the shower running in the bathroom.

VOICE OVER:

         Countries pick their people, swiping left and right on Golden Citizen app.

         Every square meter of land you ever walked lives inside you like a tenant.

         Every temporary place of residence is a sovereign country.

         That is not you, that is not us, these are not our lives.

ROOM TWO

A therapist’s lobby. Soft, muted interior with beige brocade wallpaper and plush sofa chairs. Instrumental music is softly playing, Brian Eno. Two men sit in opposite corners, look at their phones and avoid eye contact while waiting for the therapist to invite them in. From inside the therapist’s office, we hear muffled party-like laughter.

VOICE OVER: Countries don’t do therapy. They set up meetings, get together, and so on, but they’re not in a business of reaching resolutions, improvement, etc. You’re looking at it all wrong.

Pause. In a hushed voice.

The therapist, he’s just the guy with the full bar.

ROOM THREE

We are in Loi Bazaar in Uttar Pradesh, a buzzing Indian bazaar that extends through a network of narrow streets lined with tightly packed booths filled with woven fruit baskets, stacks of textiles, lassi, chaat, rasmalai, and jalebi vendors. Booths are covered with banners: Chaitanya Tulsi, Ayurveda, and numerous other ones in Sanskrit. We see the market as if we were sitting in a richshaw that passes through the streets that are projected onto the walls of the room. A slender pale cow saunters by, swatting flies with its tail. A sadhu in saffron robes passes by a storefront covered in bright yellow UltraTech Cement ad, through a knot of bike traffic, its beeps and rings. Women in colorful saris pass by the side of the road, and white men with shaved heads and long robes chant while checking out the shops.

The scene switches to the streets of Venezia, the open market across the pedestrian bridge that brings visitors from the bus station. The booths are packed with Venetian mask and gelato vendors. Migrant vendors, from Senegal, Bangladesh and other places stand next to spread blankets in front of them and sell designer fakes, purses, bags, sunglasses. They yell “vu compra” at passersby.

The scene shifts to LA, the corner of Centinela Ave and Venice Blvd with a woman offering elotes and equites, to the Piñata district with taco carts, huaraches and chicharrónes, pupusa and agua fresca booths.

Once again the scene turns, this time to an abandoned, desolate flee market in a desert town. We hear the raspy hiss of a vulture, then the heavy flap of its wings. Only one table is filled with goods: from vintage clothing and cassette tapes to old toys, telephones and typewriters to militaria, framed photos of dead dictators and war criminals.

ROOM FOUR

The Hague Penitentiary. Scheveningen, Netherlands. UN Detention Unit. Two prison cells next to each other. Two older men enter the scene from opposite ends of the room, towards their respective cells, and before they enter them, they look and slowly nod at each other. They lift their hands and touch each other’s fingertips and slowly enter their respective cells. As they connect, “You Are the Inspiration” by Chicago starts playing.

ROOM WITHOUT A NUMBER

As the lights come on, the installation in the center of the room is revealed: a model consisting of 5-foot walls made of different materials. They look like scattered large-scale domino blocks. In front of the model, the artist gives her talk.

ARTIST (In a measured unaffected manner.): I have planned this exhibition of border landscape to be explored. I wanted the viewer to experience this on a sensory level. So, please follow me…

Slowly walks and pauses.

So, when we explore the environment around us, there is always something we see on the ground, right? And something on the eye level. And of course, there is always something in the sky. Right? So, here we have a fence. You can touch it. It’s okay to touch it.

Pause.

In nature we also have different colors, right. Different movement. Notice the breaking of color here.

Points to another, barbed wire fence.

The light and its movement affect us. Lack of light limits our movement.

Lights momentarily go off in the room.

And we affect them, too. We can block light with a simple concrete wall, like this one over there. Or capture it in a lamp.

The lights in the room intensify their neon brightness.

And here, follow me, please, onto the road. Notice the cameras. Their watchful eyes. Please stay on the road. This is a model, so we have less space than we would on the field. Touch the ground. It feels just like a real road, right. Feel the heat?

Pause. Continues slowly walking.

And this bit of green. It’s easy on the eye, right. So, landscape also has things we cannot see.

See in the distance, there is a ridge. And beyond it is a mountain. Notice the pink skirting the edge of the mountain.

Artist points at the projected mountain on a wall.

Bright pink is the oldest color on geological record.

Long pause.

And what is beyond the mountain?

Pause.

Light. More light. As you can see light is a material I am very interested in. You see, every barrier, every sensor and watchtower needs light. Right. And machine guns, too. Would you like to experience them, in this safe space?

Artist reaches into the pocket of her overalls and pulls out a small remote.

When activated they shoot out ice-cold pins.

Notice how on one side of this wall there is light, and on the other side there is also light. Right.

Brief pause.

Light is the first material since the beginning of existence.

Pause.

I wanted to open this up to your interpretation.

ROOM FIVE

Acting Class. A dozen students dressed in black Lycra are doing a mirroring activity. They are grouped in pairs and face each other. The teacher, a gray-haired, lithe woman takes a sip of water from her bottle and pulls a new, unpaired student in plain clothing out to model the activity.

TEACHER: Follow my movement, sweety. Slow, steady. We are learning universal commonality.

The student is mimicking the slow circular movement of the arms and the slight sway of the teacher’s legs.

TEACHER: Good. Now, repeat after me. (Loudly enunciates.) You have two eyes.

STUDENT: To lighthouse—

TEACHER (Whispers to the student): Just repeat the same thing that I say: You have two eyes. (Clears her throat.) You have two feet.

STUDENT: Olive tree.

TEACHER (Whispers again): You don’t understand. Just say you have two feet! (Loud, so the class can hear her.) You have two legs.

STUDENT: I have two bollards.

TEACHER (Frustrated): You have hair.

STUDENT: I have sea urchin.

Students in the background laugh. The teacher ignores them.

TEACHER: You have a stomach.

STUDENT (Fast): Grotto.

Students in the back curl into fetal position and begin to impersonate each line the foreign student says. This gradually turns into a dance.

TEACHER: You have shoulders.

STUDENT (Fast): I have cliffs.

TEACHER (Barks): You have clavicles.

STUDENT (Raises her voice): I have shipyard.

TEACHER: You have teeth.

STUDENT (Louder): Chipped limestone.

TEACHER: You have hair. Hair on your head.  

STUDENT (Sings): Anemone, anemone, anemone.  

TEACHER: You have breasts.

STUDENT (Pulls her shirt open): Wings of gulls.

TEACHER: You have palms.

STUDENT (Spreads her arms, palms up, towards her): Frozen seabreams.

TEACHER: You have an abdomen.

STUDENT (Grips her stomach): Buoy in winter fog.

TEACHER: You have a body.

STUDENT (Straightens up): I have home.

TEACHER: You have (emphasizes) “a” home.

STUDENT (Looks aside): An elegy I have.

TEACHER: (Pours a glass of water. Hands the student the glass of water.): You have a mother.

STUDENT (Looks her in the eyes. Long pause.): In my mouth. Drowning.

Student pours the water onto the floor.

In the sea in the middle of the earth. Drowning.

The rest of the students in the background make swimming motions towards the exit. We hear the sea.

And in my mouth. Drowning.

Lights down. Black.