The fiction of the fix

A one-day event with installation, film, and performance, with artists Lynne Kouassi, Shana Moulton, Diana Policarpo, Theo Turpin, and Holly White

In Plato’s Phaedrus, the Egyptian god Theuth offers King Thamus writing as a remedy, claiming that it can be a tool to help memory. Thamus refuses the gift on the grounds that it will only create forgetfulness – for him, writing is not a remedy for memory itself, but merely a way of reminding. Writing is thus a poison. Plato calls this phenomenon of something that simultaneously acts as both a poison and a cure a pharmakon. In essence, the pharmakon is about sacrifice: King Thamus decides to write so that his power can circulate beyond his physical presence. But in writing, the sovereign body disseminates itself and thus surrenders to a loss of control.

As loving subjects, we tell ourselves sacrificial stories all the time: we are nowhere gathered together, and scramble to make sense of subtle gestures, decipher what’s behind late night text messages, and decode the rhythms of affection. The methods are diverse: find a fictional character that’s going through exactly the same thing, sing along to the pop song that just gets you, or carefully study astrological compatibility charts. When it comes to attracting the object of desire, we attempt to conjure our own magic: wear perfume, keep little secrets, create an air of mystery. These words and gestures are borrowed, as we have been repeating the same myths for centuries. And yet, they feel unique, giving us the precise affirmation we need for our solitary devotion. Like a pharmakon, these carefully measured rituals offer the momentary fix of being in control, while simultaneously exposing our fundamental dependence on such supplements.

‘The fiction of the fix’ brings together artists that share a concern with the rituals of the everyday, and how language, voice, and myth can become physical in their potency to attract. The works unabashedly devote themselves to a cause we can’t quite put our fingers on, allowing us to project our own obsessions. As they straddle the common and the supernatural, we are invited to give into superstition, exaggeration, and the cliché: discover the antidote in your own kitchen, and break the curse with your own two hands.