First time to present in Tate Britain

Today we have a presentaion in Tate Britain for our Territories of practice in these few months, it's a presentation based on our research with the view to the issue that each group was working on, and my group is Psychonalytic Thinking in Practive. We prepare the presentation before the christmas holiday, it was started in the studio practise, all of us was thinking to present it through a looping photo showing with some thought on the key concept in the psychoanalyst topic, each of us woudl have around a minute to talk about our work and thought, something like that, and we discussed on the way of performance as well, while everything come to the decision, we practise a little game in psychoanalyst thinking way, we wrote a poem like script, all of us like the idea, this become our final decision on the presentation. The process of writing the script here is the first person write a sentense first, then pass to the second one, write a new sentense below it after reading then pass to the third one. And the third one can only see the sentense have wrote by the second. So in this 'game', only the following one could see the previous one's creature. And it comes out like this

Curious objects resonate like a fetish of this world and another

This could be reflective of the aesthetics of anxiety

Obsessive obsessive obsessive , without an obsession.

Triggered by unpleasurable tension

Alienation to a field of sequences

Fissuring the distribution of the sensible

Once the expansion of veins start, everything starts to deteriorate and fade

Suggestions of the body, creating an alternative universe of recognisable objects

The fallacy of considering two things to be the same merely because they have attributes in common

They cant choose when to stop, they can never choose when to stop

Monkeys having sex transported to another world

The animal body crawls like my instinct

What is going to happen to me here?

Is here right now or did I think it?

It is not the ceiling that usually exists with the aim of transforming it

Time as movement within a wave

Comets drop as we fall unconsciously into bloom

Sinking into the bouquet, it brings me to my 8 year old self.

In the absence of clear boundaries, bodily traces are inscribed in the spaces that do not exist.

And it seems obvious that something should be frightening precisely because it is unknown and unfamiliar

There must be a necessity to feel labouring.

But where is the line between the pleasurable and unpleasurable

But where is the line…..

where is the line…..

The line widens.. a void of repulsion and desire..we slip in

Where is the line…..

A barrier between fragile self and shaming intrusiveness

Watch how things work then they fall apart

Alone, I am brought back to her body

It entitles me to heaped teaspoons of dignity and self awareness

Looking at something, being encouraged to occupy other ideas and thoughts

The drive to create is often fuelled by a combination of personal and existential issues

A Negative feeling arising from the experience of human freedom and responsibility

The responsibility of the visual provokes bewilderment but holds power in the first instance

Hidden bodily fluids evoke self-abasement

Despising it as nonsensical and underestimating its importance

This being a subjective space

Allows becoming its author rather than its victim

Creating an inviting place for interaction

The artists uncanny fantasy is firmly rooted in their generation

And it will permanently invalidate their process of recovery

This isn’t about getting back to how you were before

Emotions in 3D form

The unconscious space expands in memory

The motive for remembering lies in handling

Loosening of boundaries and ego

Contained in taboos in one hand and in art in the other

Perversion emerges when the object of the drive moves from the genitals to other parts of the body

Your shame confirms my existence as thought

The body universe starts turning and we feel the truth

But we must remember, lying is a biological need

The body cannot suppress the gasping breath of unconscious thought