"I am not real, I am just like you."
Utopia: a suspended locale, a space without time, extracted from the mud. The canonical version of Utopia is a suspicious object of desire -dis-incarnated; bodies are designed, pacified, idealized. These constructs, made by the little boys playing king, are islands where time is suspended, where transformation is not welcome. A flat country. A healthy country. But the saying goes: tell me what kind of utopia you wrote, and I will tell you what diseases infest you.
What happens when we re-introduce time, when we betray Utopia’s intentions, when we let slime get in the cracks, when we corrupt the model and use putrefaction as a political tool? How far can we push it before it fails us again?
Betraying utopia is a gesture, and we will retrace this effort in the works of philosophers, dancers, movie makers, poets, landscapes and biomes from west african, middle-eastern, indian and asian countries. They offer us documents contributing to the construction of utopia asa technique, as a practical tool: to survive, to host, to haunt.
- our strategy is to use the double bind of haunting and hospitality to fragment utopia into smaller pieces and disseminate those fragments in our present practices.