“In the dead of night here, to whom can one write?”
Transcript from Destroy, She Said by Marguerite Duras.

The works in this exhibition needed to be made overnight, for luminosity to be measured, for grief to be observed, for electricity to be needed, for news to be printed, for fruits to ripe, for a thought to soften, for the tide to reach its lowest point, for the sea to be unable to be seen, for silence to be sculpture, for a flower to give its scent, for a decision to change, for a prediction to be made, for discovering oneself alive the next day.

—Iris Touliatou, May 2019

With the support of ΝΕΟΝ.