The dictionary definition of change means your face looks different in the water & even tho’you’d feel at home down there each moment spent at one remove, anywhere between the mammal & the sponge, you know you’d miss a particular cassette idle tears or a glass of gin & be irked by the serious options a changeless life presents e.g. ‘Minor poet, conspicuously dishonest’ would look funny on a plaque screwed to a tree while the blue trace of your former life suggests an exception generations will end up chanting; for them the parts of speech will need explaining not lakes or sleep or sex, or the dumb poets of the past who, being lyrical, missed out on this. — John Forbes, ‘The Age of Plastic’

Hence/ Thus / Therefore / Consequently: to not know—be free—ultimately free, freedom through a knowledge that comes from not knowing, not knowing yet, but knowing still—motionless, unmoving—calm but moving, active, searching for an imaginary that does not default to the systems of value—those that keep us permanent, stable—imaginary that renders us in possibility and not in actuality—moving, moving—those systems of value such as language and the market—what market, market as language, language as trade—trading knowledge, trading durability, trading constancy, continuity, becoming marooned by knowledge—that knowledge that changes—by plastic images, by humid flustered competing days making short and unfulfilled journeys —save your selves!

Just fling yourself off the bridge—thought bobs like flotsam in a sea of images—plastic images—contexts and (deconstructed) constructions of our collective creation, that which appears and disappears throughout existence, dependent on creation—plastic images—at least we might have once made them, they came from somewhere—between here and there—now an unwieldy structure of shiny reflective surfaces—beneath which, dull and repetitive wastelands—Nietzsche’s wasteland, a text, this text? The surface is a transparent plane—images merge and submerge, screen stretching endlessly to an absent horizon—unreachable, no longer between here and there—lost, adrift, floating—as all planes of vision—existence—imitate, intermingle, liquefy into unintelligible uniformity.

We will let you compare particles of water with particles of images ... constantly morphing, travelling, undergoing change within their own scheme, reused and recycled—process, salvage, raw—where the watermark is a boundary between liquid and solid, despite the fact that they both contain each other, permanently affect and (in)form each other, perhaps the screen is a boundary between image and body, virtual and real, and they too both contain each other, each dissolving into the other until the screen, like the watermark, fades and eventually disappears.

Text by Sarah Bayliss and María Angelíca Madero