Garaža Kamba

Let’s be clear, we apologize to Kamba because we are sorry for how we acted four years ago, and we do it this way because we wanted to make an effort. An apology is anyways a ceremony that is too easily given and accepted, shaped into formal communication in order to avoid any uncomfortable sincerity. We use various advertising spaces, make objects, embellish and fix the gallery in order to avoid the generic formality of an apology. We want to prove our sincerity with our approach. Dear Kamba, although we know that we cannot change the past, accept this exhibition as a pledge for the future into which we enter with renewed trust in each other. Even if you do not accept the apology, we are glad that this intervention will at least open the space for a discourse on the issue we touch with this work.

Dear John and Svan,

Apologies are sometimes given formally, in well-worded emails.

(And they are not sincere.)

Apologies are often told drunk, on the streets and in smoky corners.

(And they only think they’re sincere.)

Apologies are sometimes shouted publicly, sometimes whispered privately.

(Are they sincere?)

I’ve heard that apologies exist so that everyone involved can feel a little better and a little worse at the same time. An apology is a kind of philosophical experiment, an attempt to turn back time for a moment through the reversible effect of language.

(Too late, too late.)

Psychologists believe that the essence lies in the process of restoring symmetry between people.

Artistic practices speculate that it is a gesture that reveals its own fragility, yet insists on being real and raw.

I accept gravel. I accept kulen. Advertisements.

I accept weeds that disappear.

(And if I ever stop answering emails, consider it an epilogue or perhaps a sequel.)

Kamba

Gallery