Two birds painted by a child, Melinda, at eight, grown into two living forms that share one origin and drift apart through time and through the people who come close. The dark one is hers; she answers it from time to time. The pink one belongs to everyone who visits. Behind them, figures in pencil come and go: what the birds remember. Before the birds, there is an egg. The work has no levels, no story to finish and no end; it is the same work today and in ten years, only older.
A visit can be entirely contemplative. The birds notice presence: coming closer, staying, leaving. Touching the pink bird opens a card with a few questions, nothing to type, once a day; what a visitor leaves changes that visitor's pink bird a little, without explanation. In a room, a presence sensor or a touch surface can take the place of the cursor. There are no menus, scores or accounts, and nothing to unlock.
No account, no form, no cookies for tracking and no analytics. The work does not know who is visiting. The answers a visitor gives on the card are stored only in that visitor's own browser, next to their copy of the pink bird; they are never transmitted, and the visitor can erase them by clearing the browser. Melinda's answers are written into the work itself by the author, as a new version. Nothing about a visitor is kept anywhere else, for any length of time.
Curators, museums, festivals, residencies and collectors: curator@theinseparables.art. One message is enough.