Cindy Coutant

In the beginning, earth and sky. Snails move about on the axis of the naked world, during a slow ascension where the ordinary rubs shoulders with the supernatural. In which waters do these creatures, both familiar and monstrous, navigate? There's no answer, but the images haunt.

What if the famous biblical ark, the last refuge of humankind and the animal kingdom during the great flood, was not merely an act of divine intervention but, instead, a meticulously planned programme for professional reintegration?

The breath of the machine fills the air, where the singing can flow. Nina stands in front of the wiggling robot. The soft bodies measure up themselves, sometimes harmonize. The breaths dilate the organs, which swell and fold; transmute the synthetic movement into vital impetus and the vulva into mouth, which inflates until it spreads.