What does it mean to be well at the end of the world? When the world intrudes into places it was never supposed to access. The tightly guarded order of modernity, where everything has its designated place, where every question has a clear answer, where nothing spills over, tangles, or sticks, is taken over by scandalous inaccuracies. This antiseptic world of clear-cut boundaries becomes an impossibility, a promise unfulfillable on a planet contaminated. We are the result of a series of collisions and eruptions, a product of the looseness of a life thirsty for touch and immersion in otherness. Today's reality asks us for a change of form, a metamorphosis, the development of metaphorical fins, gills, and roots to touch ourselves and the world anew.

Our culture is stuck in the larval stage, a phase defined by unrestrained appetite, extraction, and self-focus at the expense of others. The political and social systems in which we operate keep us in this stage, constantly convincing us that there is no alternative. Swollen with the pleasures of larval years, we know, however, that other possibilities are inscribed in the territories of our bodies. We begin to feel the desire for transformation, abandoning the old form for something simultaneously unknown and enticing. Our bodies demand a new shape, a new choreography, a new cosmology. To metamorphose means to be absorbed by a world from which there is no escape, and to encounter the monstrosity and tentacle-like nature of our fragile becoming. Metamorphosing means decentralizing the human subject, making it part of a larger, buzzing diversity of forms within the creative planetary community.

Our culture is stuck in the larval stage, a stage defined by unbridled appetite, extraction and focus on our own needs at the expense of others. The political and social systems in which we function keep us in this stage, constantly telling us that there is no alternative. Swollen from the pleasures of the larval years, we know, however, that other possibilities are inscribed in the territories of our bodies. We begin to feel the desire to change, to abandon the old form for something that is both unknown and tempting. Our bodies demand a new shape, a new choreography, a new cosmology. To pupate means to allow ourselves to be absorbed by a world from which there is no escape and to encounter the monstrosity and tentacles of our fragile embodiment. To pupate means to decentralize the human subject, to make it part of a larger planetary community buzzing with diverse forms of agency.

Curatorial text: Dominika Wasilewska