Featuring works by Nicole Fraser-Herron, John Herschend, Jaime Knight, and Justin Nagle. Curated by Fiona Ball, Naz Cuguoglu, Yomna Osman, and Orly Vermes.

We try to remember our first encounter with glitter. All we remember is excess. She bought a tube of silver powder glitter. To mask the unwanted, the abject. Camaraderie. Remember the galaxy of stars in her domestic space? Debauchery. Finding the undercommons. Glitter to confuse, to create temporary autonomous zones. The underground—Look under the ground, glitter is pouring from the ugly holes. Silent resistance. It creates a movement, and the floor below our feet shakes, listen to the strong bass of that electronic music. Bright and loud. It is sticky and disgusting—it is a contradiction, a critique. It is hard to clean, it got everywhere, infecting spaces and bodies. The sparkly dust is resilient. Like playtime has no end. Her aunt’s walls were white with colorful glitter. Bonkers. An incurable plague to wreak havoc on her mental state. Do not mind us, we are only trying to find ways to glow in the dark times. Rebellion. Riot. Revolution. Adults did not mind, but we did. The abnormal ones of the society—the narrative that is suppressed. A spurious gesture. Think about her mom’s nail polish. Like that, we are all superfluous—found families. An entropy. Bedlam. What we mean is that it creates temporary blindness for the big brother—and it is in that millisecond that we run away. And we prefer not to.

Image credit: Nicole Fraser-Herron, untitled, 2014. Courtesy of the artist.