Simone Aughterlony and Jen Rosenblit - Everything fits in the room

Everything Fits In The Room does away with unpacking dichotomies and embraces a new wild that is sustained by the effort to make everything fit. It is commitment without hope. The fundamentals are there. There is a window only it won’t be accessible in quite the same way or we simply won’t see the view through it in this configuration. There are doors still, of course, and they sit in the walls for the most part. The walls no longer just support the structure but enact their own participation. We will do the thing we always do of adjusting across the room, bringing all parts with us. The fit is good somehow, no matter the quantity or persuasion.
Don’t worry, we will still fuck over there in the corner. Although it might be called something else entirely, we will potentially foster other resemblances of love-making that might be now known as feeding, bathing or recycling. The roof is still the roof. It functions as it did only we imagine seeing small apertures, spots of deterioration where the light seeps through and takes volume. It is no longer important if this light is artificial or natural.
Inside the room, dungeon-esque encounters and ordinary domestic lingering exercise a politic that comes with care taking, danger and amnesia. Everything Fits In The Room maintains a complicated relationship to order that encourages cracks and leaks inside architectures for gathering. A free-standing wall, a roaming kitchen island and decaying bodies are part of a disruptive ecology that asks for constant adjustment. Rhythmic sorcery drives the effort despite the un-governability of all elements in the room. Is this a construction site or a cooking show? Interrogating the phenomenology of the manifesto solicits the inherent polemic: the fear that all things won’t fit to succeed in the imagined dominant path. The room offers an expanded sight for the horizon, no longer obliged to rid oneself of the things that supposedly delay and suspend progress.