Athanasía Aarniosuo
THE SIDELINES
May 3—26, 2024
Open Wed—Sun, 11 AM—6 PM
Opening on Thursday May 2nd, at 5— 8 PM
First, a heavy door; you push it open, then a few steps lead you into the space. You’re not quite sure what to expect, not this time, even though you’ve been here countless times in the past. You know the space well, the floor, so graphic, so black and white and beautiful, is now somewhat sticky with remnants of last night’s party. The drawing on your right hand side reminds you of something, was it here last time? On the wall to your left, a small picture of a building, this building but of another time.
You bump into someone you recognise, always the same familiar faces at these events. You hope you will meet someone new tonight. You say hello.
You pick up the leaflet as you venture further in. Traces of yesteryear scattered on the floor, on the walls, on the mis-matched chairs and bar stools that one finds in the smaller room, the one further in, next to the kitchen-turned-bar. On the bathroom door, a scribbled phone number, urging you to dial it “for a good time”, alongside a desperate confession, ΚΛΕΙΩ Σ'ΑΓΑΠΩ, Kleio I love you, and in that moment, you love her too.
It’s starting to get crowded, so you sway towards the spiral staircase, the descent makes you dizzy, adding to the effect of the Bacardi Breezer someone placed in your hand. You are feeling a little self-conscious, yet curious. Step by step, you proceed carefully, the darkness of the world below rising first to your hips and then your hair.
The music is different downstairs, upstairs is probably better. Why did you have to squeeze yourself all the way down here? Just so you can say you went. The people look different, too. Maybe a little older, you think, definitely gothier compared to your tan summer look. You are almost ready to go back to the more familiar party upstairs, but you get pulled through the final doorway towards a surprise.
A game of beach volley, is that right? Everything is possible here. If you’re ever going to do this, do it here, do it now. Participate. Feel the sand under your shoes, under the same black Converse All Star sneakers everyone else is wearing, even the goths. You don’t manage to dodge the ball that hits you in the face, someone gently wipes from your cheeks not blood but tears of happiness, is it happiness this feeling of belonging.
For a moment, you feel as exceptional as everyone else, and you take that feeling with you when you walk back through the hallway, up the stairs as the smoke swirls around you, past the ill-assorted chairs, out the heavy door, through the park, and in to the taxi or the bus that will take you back to your reality.