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Mercurial Mist Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Practice Art Contemporary Everything Forever Everything Mercurial Mist Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Mmmmmm Mercurial ~ ~ ~ ~ mist I started by typing the words Mercurial Mist in a document. Where the hell did that come from? Something about the words ‘mercurial’ and ‘mist’. What do they mean? And what do they mean together? Merriam-webster’s dictionary was a good starting point. My words know what I’m trying to say better than I do. So I let the words speak for me. Proposal for an ever changing online publication for CAP *Verses written collectively in ‘An Anabolic Poetry Workshop’, led by Hana Noorali and Lynton Talbot, from the work ‘Mary (God is an asphyxiating black sauce)’ by Johanna Hedva, 15 March, 2021. The workshop pointed at ideas of authorship and collaboration to consider how language could be used as a counter-hegemonic technology. fest 2021 – Everything Forever Working title: Mercurial Mist 1: having qualities of eloquence, ingenuity, or thievishness attributed to the god Mercury or to the influence of the planet Mercury 2: characterized by rapid and unpredictable changeableness of mood a mercurial temper 1: water in the form of particles floating or falling in the atmosphere at or near the surface of the earth and approaching the form of rain 2: something that obscures understanding Silent grrr dump leak grrr Silent making now exhausting, Growth in gum Interact * The half-life of us of The half-life side the other to Pulsate entropic as flesh stop-sound fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck stop-sound sublime cut shimmeringly manufacture void Fingernails jagged Fingernails regulates Bull-forth Glottis soft-tissue paused, Rage soft shell, occupy shell, soft soul on a wounded sucking, an absence hollow It all started from a foggy idea of an ever changing collection of writing, ripe with idiosyncrasies, stating stating ripe with idiosyncrasies, writing, of collection changing an ever a foggy idea of from It all started gibberish. of words unutterable it mumbles over folding on one page, clear the crystal Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Practice Art Contemporary Everything Forever Everything Mercurial Mist Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Mercurial Mist was developed as part of Everything Forever, a 3-week online festival organized in 2021. This publication was created to be freely distributed and easy to print-at-home. Reflecting on the nature of the festival, this is a collective object to change individually. It will mutate according to the paper, inkwell, the quality of reproduction one has available, but also by the internal propositions of the artists who challenge each user to transform it. Containing fragments of temporary gestures, this is partially a documentation, but mostly one more thread of a series of generative events that standed for togetherness, dissolution of authorship and collaborative spirit. Within all of its interactions Mercurial Mist has always remained a collaborative bringing together of text, images and language. The works were first piled into an online space (mercurialmist.tumblr.com) that keeps expanding, unfolding in this printable format, possibly becoming material. This print-at-home iteration acts as a de-hierarchised collection, with each work occupying the same conceptual space. In this format the works sit next to each other ready to be folded, scratched, ripped, torn and rearranged. We hope that now it is in your hands, it invites a sense of usership that takes the act of reading further towards the act of manipulation of language. Hence, continuing the possibilities of collaboration beyond the making and editing of the publication. The organisation is defined and grows by the internal relations between works— once again, hopefully mixed and repeated, and mixed again, like particles floating, re-forming, bonding, and disintegrating. Editors: Anita Marante, Georgina Watson and Effy Harle Designer: Louise Gholam Everything Forever 8 March–26 March 2021 everythingforever.net A 3-week online exhibition featuring 90+ artists from around the globe who met on the RCA Contemporary Art Practice course. Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Practice Art Contemporary Everything Forever Everything Mercurial Mist Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Anita Marante KEI.AS/KAU’ SOLARIA Cows, chaos, a general Alessandro Moroni Moroni Alessandro feeling of abandonment. Say “cows” when you want to say “chaos”. Speechless. Do not know how to express it, this bubbling cows inside keeps getting entangled. Scream cows when you mean chaos. When you mean chaos, there will be cows. A diction problem. Repeat after me: cows, cows, cows. Chaos, chaos, chaos. The more people the more to explain. The same does not happen with cows. Or chaos. I can barely understand what a cow is, how am I supposed to replace it with chaos, the word where everything could fit? How can everything fit in a word, including the mouth that projects it? How can you translate cows to chaos and keep the meaning of the sentence? I have been looking for you to deliver a message, if you are ever able to try to translate it. Sometimes you just have to switch it, stretch it, make an effort, look beyond your poor cow-optic eyes asking for answers in your stomach. Transmute into another being. Language is a tool, but that is not enough. This will persist when cows and chaos merge, and when someone believes they never merged them. I think I could spend the rest of my life talking to cows if I learned the language. And that only means that if I looked into their ridiculous eyes, they would understand mine. Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Practice Art Contemporary Everything Forever Everything Mercurial Mist Contemporary Art Practice 2021 FATHER’S HEAD ♾ A severed head bearing an eerie resemblance to my father, stares ahead with glazed over eyes from Effy Harle his niche in the back wall In this long house rooms line up one after the other like pearls on an antique necklace. I pause in front of the threshold Staring at the kitchen floor made entirely of perfectly square pieces of rib-eye steak. I approach in the dark leaving muddy footsteps in my wake. The wall clock rings twelve in a low baritone, reverberating through the current in the electric fence. The whinny of a horse in the neighbouring farm shakes the dust. The attic hangs. The garden stretches. ✂ My father’s head casts a guardian spell over the long garden stretching out towards the nearby My father’s head stares ahead with glazed over eyes. hills. I step over flesh coloured faux marble tiles veined with white Exiled from inside but still tethered to the house. streaks. At the foot of the hill lies buried Pityuka the 8th – rest in peace – my grandmother’s pet parrot. Eager to impress with wicked liveliness. My sister standing in the wind in her grey plush pyjamas, bow strung, her waist-long hair to one side Machine lace dulls the light and age old burgundy drapes as she fires arrows into the cardboard box stuck over a tree stump for target. cast a drunken glow over the yellowish walls. Every hit beats a satisfying drum in my ears. Elemental wilderness. Every missed hit sends arrows rushing to burrow their heads into the ground in shame, biting into Not for comfort nor for pleasure. thick blades of grass. In one bedroom I discover my sister’s long, cut-off dark The small black cat wakes from her afternoon nap. Pines shiver below the house’s blind gaze. blonde braid coiled up in an ornate silver plate. Cool air hangs sweet and round with spring’s promise. Above, the attic hangs. Outside, the garden stretches. ⌛ The house hosts my father as a parasitic earworm When I arrive the house breaks into a requiem Through the cracks in its voice, I hear the long hiatus it has taken from practising scales. I make my presence known by stomping loudly on the doormat to wipe the mud off my shoes. A warning to the spirited soprano greeting me with her false accord. I trace the length of the house like a caged wolf; pacing back and forth anxiously. Rummaging through the draws of a nightsand, I find a shrivelled piece of my little-sister’s umbilical cord. I stroke the carpet against the direction of the rich pile, changing it from dusty pink to sore mauve. Eye sockets were carved out in the back of the house’s mustard yellow nape. My father’s head nestles in one of these holes like a stone dove. The attic homes the house’s own consciousness; a mass of grey dust, resting atop the innards bellow. Holding on to particles form an age before the house was lived in, with ferocious defiance, long clawed aggression. The air inside these rooms is thick with dust and baroque sensibility to contain the hate that is congealed love, guts and mother’s milk. A burning heat that could erupt through my mouth like a plume of rage. Like sticky and itchy and heavy, breathing the air out of my lungs. Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Practice Art Contemporary Everything Forever Everything Mercurial Mist Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Effy Harle Effy Harle Protest SONG TO HUNGARIAN MELODY TO HUNGARIAN SONG Protest Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Practice Art Contemporary Everything Forever Everything Mercurial Mist Contemporary Art Practice 2021 Eline Tsvetkova KISMET BLUE High gloss wooden floor boards accompanied with colourful outdated tiles, evidently leftovers and brass taps entangled and connected to impracticality. This assemblage of found material consists of various objects and photography, mingling the artist’s own Bulgarian family archive with photographs retrieved in Istanbul. What is presented is a collection of group photographs that recall sun-faded advertisements, though one is not quite sure whether these photographs derive from the same source or same communal consciousness.

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