It's apparent. The world is everyday nearing its end. We should admit we don't actually know much better. Nature is retaliating, recalibrating her balance. This is nothing new.
The impression the term 'apocalypse' inspires is perhaps one of the most staggering images we are freest to brood about. In this age we have an overabundance of revelations and reports all infinitely vigorous to direct our musings to our hurrying demise. And still, it remains a wonder how unworried we all carry on. Hollow Rescue illustrates a wanton Dionysian fate underlining humanity's culpable role in precipitating the madness and tragedy, not one blameless nor oblivious in anticipation.
The exhibition was organized with a clear cause and effect linearity: the causes manifest in portrayals of our shared present: our everyday actions and comforts, and the effect as the fruit of our morbid, collective indifference: a future devoid of sustainability. From the honey we can still afford to enjoy, our reasonably upholding health, to our very moral liberty; it is distinct what exactly we put at risk as we continue to influence the increasing rate of intercontinental upset. The tableau of problematic outcomes has here been almost downplayed—beautified—patronizing still our need to be reminded kindly, our disappointing composure unfazed. They mirror precisely the majority of humankind's childish apathy.
Our dissolute nature resting easy in the face of the alarming global deterioration has recurred often enough, tenaciously warning us of our grave and faulty stewardship over ourselves, our consumerism, the absurd development of technology, and our aging commune; the frequency of these reminders irritating only because of our decisive callousness. Hollow Rescue joins the reproach in coercing urgency from all, for everyone to rouse from languor and the cruel convenience of modern living. This is nothing new.