Khlebnikov's Musical House
Bed-room, a bed that is a room, that is a space. It floats (positioned on four blue wheels) but only when it is pushed hard since it is heavy; but still a portable habitat. So: a floating bed, but heavy, wooden, enclosed with walls and a high transparent ceiling. Reminiscent of a cupboard in which one would hide as a child and from where one would watch the world pass-by. Or else, a boat in which one would escape oppressive conditions (a refugee boat), in which one would escape towards something new. But let's not carry ourselves so far; the point of Khlebnikov's house is that it is not a piece of furniture, nor representation of a boat, but rather, it is a block, a bunker. One that provides not only security but super-security. And its large walls that also work as doors are the sources of both agitation and mollification. There have been some questions of the possibility of asphyxiation (will I be able to breathe in there?). The answer is YES, you can both breathe and suffocate. Few have died already. But if you survive you will have a ride of your life; the original two houses have already been successfully tested for sexual activity, reading philosophy and comics, arguments and gentle conversations, whipping, thinking and non-thinking, and for being silent. Further exercises are expected in near future. Thus: the house is a block and a blocking; it is a block of memory, a block of sleep, a block of a mouth, a block of thought. And, consequently, it is a blocking of dreams. It is a house of bad poetry but, at the same time, of immense power. Dean Lukic
In Collaboration with Dean Lukic
