One day, I felt the disappearance of my apartment space. I realized something within me had vanished too. A combination of fear and awe settled in my heart. I began making a tunnel in my apartment, from the front door to the window on the other side, using white tape. The tunnel gradually warped and shriveled, and over time, began to feel like the muscles inside my body. But it was cold, and so was I. I wanted to protect us with a firm skin. I covered the tape with cardboard, which I painted blue to match the color of my front door. A sense of unity grew, a connection to the outside world, as the tunnel now linked me from inside to out, through the window, to the blue sky. I have abandoned by bodily self, and given myself to the space. A few days later, I revisited this abandoned body. I began a kind of surgery, cutting into the space with a utility knife. Inside, I found a cancerous mass of tape in one corner, leftover from a previous project. I extracted this mass, and moved it into the blue tunnel. Surgery usually ends with the stitching of the incision, but I refused. The space and I were left exposed.
Making Process