Cirrus@Austlit

'1. I could be sitting on an upturned bucket in a former retail space in Shanghai. I could be staring at the ceiling: electrical wires, pipes, brownish-yellow stains from the air conditioning. I could be outside, on the street, face pressed against the window, squinting at a pile of miscellaneous clothing store leftovers: mannequin stands, hooks, coat hangers, metal shelving, empty cardboard boxes, unidentifiable shiny things. The floor is wet, reflecting the ceiling. In one corner: smashed brick, plaster and mirror. Empty plastic bottles of water and energy drinks. Geometrical outlines along the walls left by fixtures now removed. If I showed you a photograph of the space and said nothing you might ask, was there a flood? If you looked a little closer at the same photograph you would probably notice the patterns on the floor left by different boots and wonder, as I did, how long has it been since people walked through here? If you looked – really looked – at the far left edge of the photograph, you would see a sleeping bag hanging from a hook on the wall. Are these the marks, you might ask, left by those who dismantled the store – stripping it back, drinking energy drinks, piling the debris in the centre, and moving on? Did the people who left these boot prints also sleep here at night? Did they finish a long day and get into sleeping bags in the very place they had been laboring? Or, maybe you want to travel further back, before the photograph, before it was decided that this store would be converted into an exhibition space, and ask: when did people stop shopping here? What did people buy here?' (Introduction)