I have sent the love letter I wrote to Gagosian Gallery by physical mail. It is currently on its way to New York. This love letter is a request initiated in the form of "desire," a gaze and a knock from a marginal identity toward the central system, an impulse to create a self-mythology in moments of silencing.
At the exhibition, what remains is a facsimile-the original love letter is now crossing borders, carried through customs and bureaucracies, flying towards its recipient. And the real-time logistics of the letter turns "private expression" into something traceable, datafied - you can peek into the process of me being "owned."
It is my final sprint before institutional absorption.