Keteros

There is a sudden shriek. A black and white rat called Fox Mulder bites my sister’s finger. For now no one can tell if it is out of spite, hurt, or just by accident. A wide gash yaws on the finger, eight stitches required to close it. Pet status for the rat is revoked. He is relocated to a greenhouse in the orchard, until the bite heals or autumn comes. Fox Mulder runs away in the night and settles in the nest with a wild rat under our neighbour’s pigsty. This we will only learn next spring when the neighbours start ripping out the floorboards. Underneath it they find several litters of pups, some grey wild ones and some patchy black and white. Towering bedrooms, dozens, maybe even thirty-something of them make up dusty sediment altars. The perimeters of chambers, their floors, the usual desire paths are bitten out of cardboard, or biscuits. The walls, thinner than paper, are in some rooms soft, malleable to touch. In other stories, as if after incessant rat pleas, swarms of wasps constructed domes and columns. Belched out, porous nooks for life and death. Scattered and blackened from decay bone courtyards are always ready for relentless change. Rat’s teeth never stop growing. She scurries between dank warm reek and crisp drafts, stretching doorways’ cob veils through all air ducts. Construction and metal work: Dominykas Daunys ir Jurgis Paškevičius The exhibition included screenings of video works by Orian Barki and Meriem Bennani, Enantios Dromos, Henriette Heise, Sêro Hindî, Jakob Jakobsen, Milda Januševičiūtė and Paulius Janušonis, Matt Peterson and Malik Rasamny. Financed by Lithuanian council for culture and Nordic Culture Point Mobility Fund