The curtain falls. I fall onto a stage. The stage falls. I don’t fall with it. I remain on stage—that is, in the place where the stage used to be before it fell away. The curtain keeps falling. The sound of music is constant. The noise never ceases. A constant distraction. Or an attraction? I try to turn around to face the music. I keep turning. It never faces me. And these faces I see, every time I turn, never embrace me.

I used to feel as if we were getting away with it, slipping through unnoticed. Now, I feel that we try hard not to worry, even though we are well aware that we are going the wrong way and aren’t carrying any supplies. We take pride in our aims, which come with sleepless nights, and crave sleep for the remainder of time.

While trying to make sense of this sound, the house had moved. Everything was now in a different place, myself included. There was no front yard, no cobbled pathway through which I had entered earlier. Instead, I found the sea. The endless waves were crashing against the walls, and I had no time for swimming lessons. Was I asleep? Did I already mention it was night? It was night, and it was cold. It was 3:55 AM, and I felt wide awake, the icy kick of the sea only serving to confuse me further. I was hoping there might still be a way out, even though I couldn’t see one. As long as you are in a dream, there is always a way out—at least, that’s what they say. But was I dreaming? I hoped I was. Still, who were these two other clowns in bed with me?

– More confusing news?
– Yes and no. Though I have a feeling we have to continue.
– So, how does it work?
– It doesn’t. It’s not supposed to be this way.
– Then how is it supposed to be?
– I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. We can just turn a blind eye while everything keeps unraveling. We just have to stay where we are, absorbed by this endless noise.
– It feels like we’re getting cornered.
– That’s natural, almost essential. But have you ever felt cornered to the point of bursting out laughing in the face of it?
– Not really, no… But funny you should say that. I think we’re getting close.

“How’s the weather in your head right now?” is a phrase used to ask someone about their mental state in a genuine way. How does it sound? The weather, I mean… Have you, by any chance, been ignoring these sounds, this music, these evil tongues? Or have you been listening to them a bit too keenly? You and I could still make some beautiful music together.

Accompanying text: Marten Esko
Graphic design: Ott Metusala

The exhibition is supported by the Cultural Endowment of Estonia.