These include post-industrial urban space, gentrification, and what it means to inhabit and navigate hyper-corporate, increasingly privatised, heteronormative cities as queer, takatāpui, trans, LGBTTQIA+.įollowing queer theorist Dianne Chisholm, “ueer constellations sight/cite the city in ruins”. While no singular narrative can ever be entirely subtracted from the mesh of neoliberal capitalism, it is possible to interpret this booth as a “queer constellation” 1 that posits many subsequent and interrelated trajectories. In this late capitalist era, there are many generative narratives contending for the origin story or source of this aesthetic. This contiguity registers on aesthetic and textual levels as decay, destruction, abandonment, and abjection. However it is more accurate in this instance to approach the works and space as a coherent, contiguous entity: a (once) furry integument of sorts that connects more than protects. These two speculative and descriptive passages suggest that the gallery is the proverbial shell or container for the artworks it displays: that the works are separate from the exhibiting structure. Te Kani’s erotic fiction is positioned in the immediate foreground. The two middle-ground works: a film on a monitor slumped against a chunk of concrete and a poster print on the left-hand wall are by Ali Senescall. Keddy’s three poster prints of urban neglect and the artist’s studio desk hang suspended from chains at the rear of the fractured gallery space. On Rat Bones curated by artist and Parasite founder Daniel John Corbett Sanders exhibits new work by Tash Keddy, Ali Senescall, and Samuel Te Kani. Is this the apocalypse with the lights still on? Are we inside a post-revolutionary moment? Is anyone left? Steel girders have fallen, rebar prongs through large shards of concrete, and weak daylight illuminates the dust. Rats have left their bones behind: thoracic vertebrae and femurs to suspend and shelter art - for now at least.
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