Bogdan Ablozhnyy, B A Briggs, Vincent Fecteau, Louis Goodman, Janet Olivia Henry, Nina Porter, Maria Toumazou
Boxes
7 June–12 July 2025
Opening: Friday 6 June, 6–8 pm


[…] At one point some liquid trickled forth and she clapped her hands in her mind and stopped pushing and started running frantically and palsiedly and she jumped and stamped on the ground and when nothing happened she stuck her hand up her ass and searched for something to grab. She found a prickly round shape and started pulling it out but it was very large and her bottom mouth was comparatively small. Well she was determined. Fortunately the prickly shape scratched the sides of that internal canal and so the birdblood served as a lubricacunt. Finally after pushing terribly hard with her muscles from the inside and by pulling hard from the outside, with a gigantic champagne uncorking pop and with much liquid and flesh scattered about, a human baby with nails where hair should be and a stiff twig where the ugly prick usually is stood there shivering and bloody and shiny and slimy and glimy. Then the twig started growing a bit and the kid sat down and from the kid’s ass began to come forth roots which dug themselves into the by now wet ground. And the twig kept growing into a tree and when it was about quite large it brought forth branches and flowers and round fruit. And the tree got taller and fatter until all of the kid grew into was covered by became the tree. Well all this time the bird stood there panting panting from her tremendous labor but when the twig began growing taller and fatter before her presence, her desire was aroused for one more last time and she was becoming deliriously happy as the twigtree grew. However the twig didn’t stop growing, as she must have hoped, or maybe she knew all along that it would not stop growing, anyway all that desire all that thirst turned twisted into sadness anger and frustration and she stood there paralyzed for a few times. By now the tree was long and far into the sky. She went to the diamond speck box and began to squeeze herself into it. It must have taken a long time to get into that microcosmic box because when she finally managed to squeeze herself in and shut the lid after her, the tree had grown so fat that the piece of diamond dust box in which she was holding herself was now between the cracks of the bark of the side of the tree. The tree was so long by now that it was pushing against the membrane of the first stage of the limitless universe. Well right about this time the bird inside that diamond box let go. I mean she reached some sort of climax peak in her selfsqueezing and she really let go. Boy I tell you there followed a superduper atomic selfish impexpindeplosion that really made the universe to stretch a lot sending bird box tree and everything near and far into a freedom never before imaginable and there was consequently so much running around of atoms and such and so much interchanging that from another universe all you could see was smoke.

—Lucas Samaras, The Bird and the Porcupine Kid (1959–61)‍