The Salt Lakes of an Endless Bummer installation took over the deepest end of a ladies public bathroom.
Through the initial passage a looped video of the artists and one stranger dancing a lonely nightclub scene is projected on a tiled wall above latex vomits.
The place is dark, various odours sit in the dank air, and warped tunes drone from beyond a makeshift barrier. The viewer moves through the second narrow entrance where the remnants of another’s territory lay spent. Separate cubicles, sinks and nooks provided by the chosen bathroom space, are saturated places of occult purpose and party phenomenon.
Colour, light and smell act as guide’s through the space; sometimes concentrated behind closed doors, flickering on tiles through the use of candles or by way of a fat pile of glowing used condoms. Sterile cleaning products are sprayed in one cubicle, watermelon rinds fill the air with stink in a shower and spilled strawberry flavour adds to a sickeningly, already saturated, pink make shift boudoir.
The sense of the time spent and ritual goings on is apparent in the details; abandoned costume; discarded treats and the drone of low tunes were left to play looped. A bloodied Prozac letter-opener and bloody fishing hooks hang by sticky-tape, aside a warning on the tiles: “once inside no outsy-insy”
Salt Lake Fishing: A Review of a creation by Grace Gamage and Olivia O’Donnell
The space is a sum of all its intricate parts. I first walk in and I am overwhelmed by this sum, the feeling that was brought together by all the trinkets and toe-twirls and bobbies that make up a bathroom of alternate reality.
These parts are all things I’ve seen before, maybe with the exception of those juicy little balls objects that soup in the hollowed out watermelon that sits next to the sink which who could resist but planting your palms in for a seductive sin.I feel found in a place like this, the mood that it sets in is one of jumping into a party that’s bursting at the seams, just at the height of drink drunk giants. The people are found everywhere, you turn a corner to find another sacred moment that perhaps won’t be remembered or is just a glimpse into a world that will never come but is dreamed about and is brought up to the surface with a number of chemicals.
A projected film of a distant dormant thought, grotesque nightmares of the sinks, bits of puke and bile that are much more otherworldly and interesting than anything you actually would find at a party.
You walk into the stall and it’s almost a cartoonish creation of the mystical woman’s dunny. Pink satin draping the walls! Rose petals cover the floors and are filling your nostrils with women’s flowery farts! Comfort in a flowering flourish and yet next to it is the rocky counter cavern that engulfs ya into it’s belly! They lied about their loos! They aren’t primp at all! Jesus let’s get out of here before the germs evolve into mutant beings and take you in for torture!
A makeshift bed of needily grasses, a final resting place for the last lonely survivor of a party gone wild. Quiet Honolulu spot for the lonesome babe as the disco ball continues its spin.
There are watermelon on the floor, and cakes to, with ancient fossil footprints in ‘em. Ground cake, sprouting from a seed and the melon carpet are primordial carpets, bringing to sense the floor doors which have not come or do not belong in the tiled and wet floors of a student’s bathroom.
It is all consuming! The dreamscape loo’s are filled with the tinny hollowed sounds of what a witch’s drum and bass would sound like, bringing about Armageddon with the serpent of the end of time.
When first looking over it all it’s a flurry of deserts quite literally as you have shrunk onto an all you can eat buffet. It’s hard to distinguish it all and this is what makes it so encompassing as you rewind back through the alternate dimension and watch it all again. I swear I’ve seen this before, but it’s the first time I’ve found the bitch’s lair.
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