Ana-José Riley

Artist Catalogue

Virtual Exhibition

The rot remains with us, the men are gone.

There was an explosion (or, rather, I don't know a world in which explosions do not occur). This isn’t home. But it is where we find ourselves.

The rot remains with us, the men are gone borrows its title from Derek Walcott’s poem Ruins of a Great House (1954). And it is this that introduces the work’s initial inquiry: What does survival mean in a world fundamentally impacted by colonialism? Brick, materially and speculatively, is the starting point: in its ability to structure (and restructure) white supremacy - defining its solid base and protective layer. White supremacy’s added layer of skin. Our steps have been set, and as such, survival in this context speaks to our relation to whiteness - referencing both spectacle and audience member in the worst play ever!!!!! I am reaching out. I ask: How do you describe the particular pain in realising that you, yourself, have become its brick? I cannot translate its impact, as it is not merely a linguistic issue.

Stagnation stuck to my skin. Even if you hide - you cannot look away - white supremacy has infected the air you breathe. It stinks, and although people are all going about as if nothing really happened, maggots know rot. [return to sender?]

War survival guides tell us to engage in safe practices - to remain non-confrontational, to hoard resources - to lay low. But I wonder if the goal really is to survive. Here, we reconsider ruin-ing. On-site, the scene revolves around bricks and the brick-related (think home, wall, border, rock, sand, cement, dust and digs). Underground, my only rule is, Find out how to break a brick!!!!. I care to break the bones of this thing - Jenga but so much slower. Destruction with the hopes the world will follow suit. Michelangelo’s insight was that the sculpture is already embedded in the stone - but in trying to get to the bottom of it, all I have found is its choke-y-er and foggy-er form. Dust sees a genesis, and dust survives elsewhere—a message by air. I hammer, I silt until this can all blow over, but dust lands on its feet.