From Sicily’s volcanic slopes to Alabama’s red clay, hyphae collaborative network links distant places through works that mine residues of domestic space — grief, resistance, memory, reinvention, and quiet repair.
Set in a 19th century residence, once part of the long-shuttered Southern University, “through every glitch and eruption” brings together 18 artists from across the US South, Ireland, Germany, Italy, Great Britain, Finland, Sicily, and Switzerland.
The exhibition unfolds inside a folk Victorian home in Greensboro, Alabama — a dwelling whose purpose has shifted over time, from university housing to family residence, and soon to become a newsroom for three local papers. The house holds traces of each chapter. Floorboards tilt. Keyholes remain. The walls and cracks hold memories, a library of residues of passage.
The exhibition threads itself through these charged spaces like a living network — provisional, connective, mycelial. Mycelium endures by working in the shadows, porous and collaborative, feeding on what has decayed in order to sustain what might grow. It suggests another kind of time: slow, recursive, unfinished, ongoing and always in the process of becoming.
Some works speak to mourning and its forms; others to endurance, reinvention, and ordinary gestures that carry us forward. A doomsday calendar. A child’s grave with fresh flowers. A salvaged stump turned into a creature. A spell. Survival here is not achieved in one act, but gathered over time — shaped by tension, care, and repetition.
Other works tilt toward speculation, invention, and myth. Flowers that grow from what is discarded. Panspermia as an allegory of persistence. Memes as units of survival. Diana, goddess of the hunt, as a shadow figure for resistance. Paintings where the eyes are not windows but skin — porous, vulnerable, alert. Found microplastics, recycled and recast, testifying to futures already embedded in the everyday.
At the hinge between myth and speculation stands a work that confronts the politics of the body. It recalls two women marked by violence and erasure: one whose nose Freud had removed in a misguided “cure” for hysteria, another whose failed attempt to assassinate Mussolini struck only his nose. Linking these stories to the history of lobotomy and medical misogyny, the work turns the nose into a curious emblem.
Taken together, these works speak less of endings than of processes — slow, unfinished, eruptive. Survival here is not imagined as a single heroic act but as an accumulation: of gestures, of repetitions, of adaptations — shaped by accident, by glitch, by what grows in the cracks we overlook. In this way, the exhibition turns from ghosts toward what is still active in the ruins, asking not only what remains, but what continues to adapt, proliferate, and persist in the aftermath.