Several months ago, with my dearest friend Conor, we ‘received notice’ of our imminent eviction from our studio in SE London. As is so often the case, THEY decided to demolish the building in order to create luxurious-ish flats.
The window of our studio did overlook a wasteland, owned by a consortium, occupied intermittently by Travellers, pioneered by wild rocket and poppies. As we couldn't find any affordable place to move to, Conor suggested we relocate our studio over the other side of the road; onto the abandoned plot. We started dissembling our studio and passing it over the wall: wood, boards, even the front door - since we already had the keys.
From this our dislocated studio transformed into an ephemeral gallery, Khôra - for it represents our capacity to infiltrate a system that marginalises us. Located at the interstices of society; enclosed and exposed; unstable and fixed; opposite and/or adjacent to New Cross Gate Station and New Cross Road; Khôra sits in between visibility and invisibility. It aims towards transcending binaries and hosting a different economy. A maternal economy of fluids and touch in which bodies shape one another through caresses. Today, Khôra is mutating into a garden because there was a leak we could not fix.