“Talking about weather
is not just a polite
conversation anymore.”
Dragoș Bădiță, Matei Bejenaru, Zoltán Béla,
Iulian Bisericaru, Irina-Botea Bucan, Daniel Djamo, Oana Coșug, Larisa Crunțeanu, Stoyan Dechev, Belu – Simion Făinaru, Nicu Ilfoveanu, Aurora Király, Róbert Köteles, Adelina Ivan, Olivia Mihălțianu, Decebal Scriba, Doina Simionescu
June 06 – September 07, 2019
Anca Poterașu Gallery, Bucharest
Talking about weather is not just a polite conversation anymore. It became religion, politics, it stirs belief-systems and induces doubts. Meteorology itself is a calculated risk of future chances, a science born out of the need to predict and control, to warn and to create anticipation. The exhibition draws on the charged significations of storms, bringing forward a polyphony of topics related to unpredictability and social anxieties towards chaos and the unknown.
Talking about weather is not just a polite conversation anymore. It became religion, politics, it stirs belief-systems and induces doubts. Meteorology itself is a calculated risk of future chances, a science born out of the need to predict and control, to warn and to create anticipation. The exhibition draws on the charged significations of storms, bringing forward a polyphony of topics related to unpredictability and social anxieties towards chaos and the unknown.
The eye of the storm is the most serene and also the most dangerous place inside the tempest. Capricious changes in the atmospheric pressure shift the compressed sunny skies tothundering landscapes. Yet the more weather forecasts share data of satellites hungrily collecting information, the more unstable our lives reveal themselves to be: there is a code red for everything, climate change – our material reality shifts. Even clouds are not what they used to be – they become metaphors of new mythologies being built in virtual, digital worlds where rain cannot drown-down streets and does not intervene in our daily commutes.
Knowing the weather and looking for shelter, two sides of a coin ignored or traded carelessly as other storms become more important than others. Let us be then in the middle of
the twister – as unstable as it is, it is a privileged place, where the horizon line is always changing. From the eye of the storm, our gaze moves lazily in 360 degrees surveillance
routines, plucking away from the rain and thunder. Swings from childhood games cast shadows of the past and we can dream everything is still possible.
Sunny skies, passing clouds, summer-is-here vibes. Or has it already gone by? – run-down neighbourhoods, the TV is flooding with talks about floods, there are more and more palm-trees in Bucharest.