Initially exhibited as part of Camberwell College of Arts’ degree show.

‘I wanted to write a story about a world, just like ours, in which we suddenly realise that everything is controlled by pollen. Not controlled. Maybe just regulated. Maybe the softness of the structure premature its rigidity. In this world, the pollen arrives as a sentient reaction from the plants, from the flora, from the fauna – a being of being carried by the symbiosis inscribed by time onto the co-dependency of all that grows and their desired vectors. A world made and remade from the spreading everywhere of the powder, a form affecting all beings by one grain or an other. A world intoxicated by a floral lust.

This lust, its origin, is locked and kept. Between objects excavated, looted, dis and misplaced, there dwells the origins of the myths from which this lust nourishes, thrives on, relaying reliefs on reliefs. Carrier bags of pollen made of stone standing still under a spotlight, eagle headed spirits, bees-winged-gods, dates palmed for your gazing eyes. Sick of the spectacle of objecthood, tired of the shielding glass, the pollen in the carrier bags slowly dries out. Rutting to get rotten, it craves for some humidity to instigate a new cycle of life. ‘

i_you, as pollen (2022) is an audio-visual meditation on pollen. Pollen as a substance often hidden in plain sight, as a disembodied form of sexuality that is based on inter-specie co-dependency, as a toxin making the streets uninhabitable for humans, as a form of telling told in the form of fables and myths, as a material history entangled with the colonial landscape of Israel-Palestine (where I grew up). In the midst of the different stories in motions circulating along with powder, i_you, as pollen attempts to listen to the pollen both as a witness as well as a body already resonating with embodied otherwises, those acute narratives for re-orienting our path. The piece encompasses of a generative sound piece played through 10 wax-casted speakers and an amplifier embedded onto the bark of a burnt Jerusalem/Aleppo pine.

i_you, as pollen (2022)

© Guy Ronen 2023