About project
In a downtown street, an engine hisses to life, one that should have long remained silent. Flames burst from the exhaust, raw and untamed, reeking of gasoline. A trio of figures in reflective balaclavas stage an improvised cowboy scene of the future: over flickering tongues of fire, they roast sausages as if preparing the last feast of a world on the verge of burning out. The performative piece Grill Flame layers images of a picnic at the edge of apocalypse, hovering somewhere between a desert caravan and a secret séance of worshippers of a lost combustion cult. A glowing engine replaces the campfire, a rattling metal altar beats in sync with the final drops of fuel, and the audience becomes witness to a survivalist ritual. Whether it’s a post-apocalyptic cookout or an ironic manifesto for future archaeologists, it’s long past time to heed the warning triangles. All that’s left are the flames and small charred scraps of meat—a tribute to a civilization that burned up on its own speed.
