Artists

Jacob Blackaller

Press release

I’m lying on my living room floor, looking up through my window, my eyes fixed on nothing but empty sky. My body’s dissolved into the warm light, and now I’m no longer on my living room floor or even anywhere. Constant light washes over me. It’s kind of like I’m seeing the light the way a piece of glass or aluminium foil might: occasional and unclear. Head full of a thick haze and an ear-splitting sensation, but it’s good. There’s no room for thoughts of my own choosing as I’ve let myself be overcome in the living room that has become a conduit to a separate place.