numb
solo exhibition at hamlet, zürich, 2023
curated by 2boysbrokenhearts
Bleed present numb, a continuation of the duo’s exploration of the atomising forces of the contemporary attention economy. Throughout the three rooms of Hamlet’s exhibition space, four characters vie for attention in a cacophony of sound as each sculpture screams a heartfelt rendition of Linkin Park’s ‘Numb.’ The song, which lends the show its name, is the exemplar of a commercialised alternative culture, a paradoxically universal anthem for the isolated and misunderstood. Here, each version is played by a different street musician - a precursor to the near universal contemporary occupation of the content creator.
Much like the various covers of the song, the sculptural language seems to tow a strange line between sincerity and banality. At first glance each ‘character’ appears to be an almost coincidental assemblage salvaged from the wasteland of commodities and obsolete tech, but on closer inspection there is an uncanny anthropomorphism to them. Throughout is a play of excess and restraint, a heavy studio monitor lies crushing a hoodie ever deeper into a stained and soiled duvet, cable ties act like tourniquets binding the wasted limbs of skeletal cables, a large speaker is bandaged in cling film, quivering with each bassy rumble. Each work seems to cry for both attention and for help, finding occasional moments of unity as the various renditions slip into harmony.
Much like the various covers of the song, the sculptural language seems to tow a strange line between sincerity and banality. At first glance each ‘character’ appears to be an almost coincidental assemblage salvaged from the wasteland of commodities and obsolete tech, but on closer inspection there is an uncanny anthropomorphism to them. Throughout is a play of excess and restraint, a heavy studio monitor lies crushing a hoodie ever deeper into a stained and soiled duvet, cable ties act like tourniquets binding the wasted limbs of skeletal cables, a large speaker is bandaged in cling film, quivering with each bassy rumble. Each work seems to cry for both attention and for help, finding occasional moments of unity as the various renditions slip into harmony.
