The museum's latest installation was a mix of performance and sculpture bound together in for form of two gigantic plastic balls set neatly on the floor, one connected to a large metal block with no windows and seemingly no doors. This was where the performers rested during closing hours, they weren't meant to leave for the entire two months that the show was on, all their supplies sitting neatly inside the cube, according to the leaflets.
It was called "Rubber and Glue" after the catchphrase, meaning that whatever the people outside did would be copied by the actors and amplified so that a lasting impression was left behind after the show was gone. It certainly left something behind and it was a lot more physical than a mere impression, though it dented the floor too.
During the show there had been a few incidents, as with any interactive show. It began when one of the performers collapsed and refused medical help, instead they retreated to the metal cube and weren't seen for the remainder of the show. Every now and then a performer would break character and try to signal for help but the security guards had been told that the actors must be in character at all times and they would move people away from the artwork until character was resumed.
They didn't know he'd died until they released the actors after the two months, finding his rotting body in his bunk, surrounded by paper flowers. His name was never released, the artist refused and claimed it would have ruined the artwork's intent to be full of nameless mirror beings.
This only made it more sought after, spreading it from gallery to gallery followed by protesters and the inspired masses alike. Performers began to sign up for it as a challenge, a test of endurance and skill. Having to stay constantly in character without losing yourself entirely soon became the next big thing.
Of course this was only one out the multitude of things to go wrong with the show, not to mention after the show. It seemed that with every gallery it left there was something wrong about that area. Not that there was much physically wrong with the space it had once been on but there was something in the air that made it harder to breathe when you passed through that space, like you were breathing nothing but the same stale air as thirty other people.
In some smaller galleries that feeling spread, everyone inside felt like they were being stared at by unseen eyes, even the staff felt it. Ceilings were inspected, health checks carried out, asbestos stories made their rounds in the news but nothing concrete was found. Only the lingering feelings left behind by too many souls crammed in too little space with too little air.
It was called "Rubber and Glue" after the catchphrase, meaning that whatever the people outside did would be copied by the actors and amplified so that a lasting impression was left behind after the show was gone. It certainly left something behind and it was a lot more physical than a mere impression, though it dented the floor too.
During the show there had been a few incidents, as with any interactive show. It began when one of the performers collapsed and refused medical help, instead they retreated to the metal cube and weren't seen for the remainder of the show. Every now and then a performer would break character and try to signal for help but the security guards had been told that the actors must be in character at all times and they would move people away from the artwork until character was resumed.
They didn't know he'd died until they released the actors after the two months, finding his rotting body in his bunk, surrounded by paper flowers. His name was never released, the artist refused and claimed it would have ruined the artwork's intent to be full of nameless mirror beings.
This only made it more sought after, spreading it from gallery to gallery followed by protesters and the inspired masses alike. Performers began to sign up for it as a challenge, a test of endurance and skill. Having to stay constantly in character without losing yourself entirely soon became the next big thing.
Of course this was only one out the multitude of things to go wrong with the show, not to mention after the show. It seemed that with every gallery it left there was something wrong about that area. Not that there was much physically wrong with the space it had once been on but there was something in the air that made it harder to breathe when you passed through that space, like you were breathing nothing but the same stale air as thirty other people.
In some smaller galleries that feeling spread, everyone inside felt like they were being stared at by unseen eyes, even the staff felt it. Ceilings were inspected, health checks carried out, asbestos stories made their rounds in the news but nothing concrete was found. Only the lingering feelings left behind by too many souls crammed in too little space with too little air.
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