WAITING FOR SOMETHING TO HAPPEN, 2000

Montreal, Canada

entrance to galleryme talking to a guest at openingbuffet at openingview of crowd at openinginside my bedroomguests sitting at opening

" We are not sure what will happen...we know it is not just a matter of filing up the space with objects but animating it with people..."

September 9:

I move into the gallery and throw a house warming party.

Week 1:

I don't know how she does it. Every week she makes all sorts of demands upon various people to do the most unusual things and they accept...the mailman who we've only seen as a hand through the mailbox stops daily for a chat. One visitor left embarassed with his giant cucumber. Seduction is a soft but powerful drug.

view of entrance gallery view

...sometimes she loses control or feels submerged by the events. I feel it too and worry for her although I know she has consciously put herself in this situation, where failure is part of the game.

September 16, End of Week 1:

For the entire day, I stay hidden in the small room where I sleep while the entire gallery fills with visitors. Using a microphone, I confront the public with my sense of discomfort in feeling like an animal trapped in a zoo.

view of entrancepublic walking through gallery spacepublic walking through gallery space

Week 2:

We're both revealing our emotions. I cannot maintain the character of the "manager of an art space". What's happening gets intertwined with the basics of life, with human relationships and I am unable to feel detached and professional as I am supposed to be.

large brick with text

Week 3:

In trying to cope with the lack of privacy and the constant expectations of the gallery public, I place ads in newspapers in an attempt to escape the claustrophobic environment and to connect with the public outside. The phone keeps ringing...
I arrange meetings with those who call about my advert.

newspaper ad

...sometimes I feel this exhibition will never end, expectations have escalated and I am bound to disappoint...

polaroids of soles of feet

Week 4:

I move back home. All week I continue to meet people who respond to my advert.

October 7, End of Week 4:

The gallery staff sit in the empty space and book appointments for the public to visit me at home.

woman sitting in gallerymen entering apartment

Her arrival turned our daily lives upside down...endless questions, limits between private and public space, between personal and professional relationships.

October 14:

Last day of my exhibition at the gallery. I create the SUPERSTAR PERSONA, as a way of reinventing myself and establishing some distance from the public and announce the beginning of my world tour.

This separates parts.

négociation langage pudeur domination ravissement renoncement frustration trépidation tension vulnérabilité interprétation ennui cassure confession victimisation départ marguerite transition désappointement ite, missa est?

This separates parts.

DESCRIPTION:

For 6 weeks, I make a downtown gallery my home. I sleep on a mattress on the floor, install a fridge and a small stove, and cook in the space. The public can visit me during regular gallery hours. They can also call me on my private telephone line.

The texts above have been written by the artist, Daniel Roy, the director of Skol and his staff.