The Triumph Of Lonely Place

at Gallery Espace Maurice

A Women who Never Sleeps (2023)
Light box, pigment inkjet, translucent photo vinyl
30x60x5 in

A Woman Who Will Never Sleep Again (2024)
pigment inkjet, silver polyester film, gloss laminate, luster photo paper, dibond, aluminum bracing
60x40 in

On the other side of the wall, once the flames die down, the flora grows ferociously. The realm beyond the

divide has undergone a metamorphosis: the beings that now inhabit its confines elude any familiar

recognition. Amidst the remnants perched atop the murky waters, where heaps of debris have accumulated,

trees brazenly entwine, boldly growing within each other and above each other. Is this The Lonely Place?

In Goffman’s weltlandschaft, somewhere between distortion and premonition: a fantastical, frightening

topography grows. Abstracted technological imagery is superimposed onto a rural landscape. At times it isn't

clear which parts form the fantasy – is it the pastoral or the faeryland colorscape that hovers over it ? I am of

those who view glimpses of a future time with apprehension and fear. Goffman’s vision offers an alternate

perspective.

It is not to say that we are in some kind of Wordsworthian dualism, where nature reigns supreme and

mankind repetitively fails. Here, nature is complicit in the violence and decay. While elements of architectural

experiments thrive – testaments to the passage of time, layered upon each other.

In The Lonely Place, we are confronted to the limits of our advancement, witnessing our gradual decline. The

initial events are not foreign to us. But as the story progresses, the purpose of our technological prowess

seems increasingly futile. In this future, protagonists hop over fences, imbibe from aged farm wine, bike back

to town and shower off the poisoned air, poisoned waters. There is a normalcy to this catastrophe, a

resignation to the demise. These feel like familiar grounds.

Tied to a form of romanticism, Goffman’s work proposes an unexpected element of grandeur, or renewal, an

idealization not a mimetic activity. Goffman’s post-apocalyptic fantasy grows from writing to sculpture, and is

vibrant with beauty. In rhyme with the romantic spirit of the 1700s, nature and the imaginary intertwine, to

overcome our destruction.

In my kitchen, on the radio, I hear them talk of East Palestine, Ohio. It’s been a year now. Somewhere by the

tracks flora keeps growing too. A sticker on the back of a parked SUV reads If you find a friend in Jesus, you find a

friend in me. After the explosion, things also changed, but not as much as you’d expect them to.

• Marie Songolene