A Month of Sundays
As a teenager I had to wear braces. Like many of other kids, I spent long hours waiting for the orthodontist.
From his dull waiting room I remember mismatched chairs and a coffee table with aluminum legs. I vividly remember the posters of impressionists masters and the crumpled magazines from the year before. I remember the cartoonish molar drawn on a blackboard meant to teach kids how to brush their teeth. It had arms, which didn’t make much sense to me.
I mostly remember waiting, anxious for the pain to come. At some point I would inevitably tell myself that things didn’t have to be that way and I started fantasizing about an escape plan and the life I could lead should I simply decide to leave. In these moment, all seemed to be clearer. It didn’t have to be painful ever again, I just had to walk away. I never left but I remember wait as an empowering time.
The exhibition A Month of Sundays is considering waiting time and its many avatars as a symbolic place of all possible. It explores the mundanity and extraordinariness of passing time through a daily routine, a car’s odometer, or a sunset.
Vanessa Safavi; Each Colour is a Gift for You; 2015; 10 taxidermied birds; Dimensions variable
Joke Schmidt; Studien von Warteräumen; 2014; Video installation; 5:47 min
Juliette Blightman; Please water the plant and feed the fish; 2008; Pedestal, fishbowl, fish, plant (Crassula ovata), plant pot, apple; Dimensions variable
Jean-Frédéric Schnyder; Sonnenuntergang am Zugersee (115); 1996; Oil on canvas; 26 x 35cm
Michael Smith; KidZania, Experience No.2: Waiting; 2015; C-print; 59.7 x 85.1 cm
Morgan Fisher; Turning Over; 1975; 1/2’’ video transferred to DVD; 15 min