Join us for the opening of Red Zone January 26, 2019 with works by Sofia Sinibaldi and Tasha Roman Axis of Evil: Notes on AX “No, Chuck. You are not using Blair as sexual Drano!” — Serena van der Woodsen In the summer of 2018, a 2000-year-old sarcophagus was discovered during a routine archaeological excavation at a construction site in Alexandria, Egypt. The coffin was made of black granite and contained three skeletons, most likely the remains of ancient army officers. Reddish sewage water had leaked into the tomb so the corpses decomposed and were no longer mummified. The site was quickly cordoned off after its stench raised public health concerns. After the news spread, some people online somewhere petitioned to drink the sludge that was siphoned away.  The slow seepage of sewage that counteracted the preservative effects of mummification speaks to our toxic present and future. Those who wanted to taste the sarcophagus soup had the right idea: you can’t escape the shit in life or death. Donna Haraway would call this microbial entanglement staying with the trouble, but I call it staying with the shit. The modality of power that accompanies this existence deals with titration, dosage, and the routes of administration. There is no containment, but a privileged few can adjust the drip. We all live in the mud–in the shit! Shovel your way out of the shit! In Twin Peaks: The Return, Mark Frost and David Lynch transform Dr. Jacoby into a conspiratorial radio host à la Alex Jones. But instead of peddling supplements, Jacoby sells gold spray-painted shovels. Nevertheless, like the InfoWars magic pills, digging ourselves out of the shit will prove futile. Take for example the so-called “fatbergs” clogging London sewers. The congealed masses of cooking fat and wet wipes weigh several tons and cost millions of dollars to remove, compromising the sewage infrastructures that define modern life. In this case, wiping the slate clean backfires and clogs the pipes until we find ourselves knee-deep in the shit once more. Ultimately, it is the cumulative act of sanitization that causes an unintended blockage. This is how accidents occur according to the Swiss cheese model of causality, where the slices of cheese that represent different lines of defense align perfectly so the holes overlap and the hazards pass through and multiply. Sofia Sinibaldi and Natasha Romano share an interest in systems failures, the moments when simultaneous and interlocking accidents demonstrate life to be pregnant with disaster. Accidents, however, are not always disastrous, like when synchronous events and processes give rise to mutations. If the Swiss cheese model is centered on overlapping holes and the dangers they present in tandem, then Sinibaldi’s PVC pipe sculptures reconfigure this risk management model. What they depict is not an alignment that forms a smooth passage towards impending doom, but rather a rupture caused by a blockage along the line. The pipes are fractured and their insides are exposed, revealing chrome balls suspended at irregular intervals. Although they might recall gazing balls made of glass, the chrome balls are of a different symbolic and material order. Set in place like the registration marks used to fit together the two faces of a mold, the metal spheres are part and parcel of Sinibaldi’s practice animating processes that go unseen. The insides of the pipes also have an epidermal quality, like skin pockmarked and tattooed with photos of unstable architectural spaces. The jaundiced skin of the pipes’ insides stands in contrast to their outsides, which have been sanded down to a matte, skeletal finish. The fragments are fixed to the walls with armatures and linked together with metal joints, appearing somewhere between an elaborate fossil display and a disassembled Greer Lankton doll. The pipes, rendered as bone-like segments, convey poor images. Both modular and rigid, the sculptures evoke ossified human centipedes. Along with skin and bone, red resin frames add a sanguine element to Sinibaldi’s presentation. They too display embedded chrome balls, making explicit the reference to the registration marks used in mold making. Within the frames lie images of the crosshairs emitted by laser scanners. These devices project axes into spaces and onto surfaces, representing the instant when a set of lines, planes, or occurrences intersect. It is the probability of harmonious alignment as such that inspires Romano’s work. Her installation is comprised of a number of different elements that tie together her work as a sculptor and a fashion designer, as well as her statistical training. She has developed a special technique to transfer images onto silicone sheets, used here to depict the series of six tapestries from the Middle Ages known as The Lady and the Unicorn. The tapestries are thought to represent the five senses, although the meaning of the sixth tapestry remains disputed. Some people think it represents love, but perhaps it encompasses a broader, less anthropocentric phenomenon, as in staying with the shit. In place of the hexagonal honeycombs Romano often incorporates into her sculptures is a cubic grid that forms a tangled cage. It encloses a figure wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with an image of The Lady and the Unicorn. This doubling speaks less to reproduction than to the simultaneous planes through which an image can come into being, exist, and circulate. Finally, viewers will also notice a large snakeskin woven through the sculptural mass. The snake is a creature that haunts the Swiss cheese model because it can effortlessly slither through the overlapping holes, unlike the hazards that are often deterred. It’s no wonder, then, that the serpent’s egg symbolizes being pregnant with disaster. – Matthew Grumbach Matthew Grumbach is a Ph.D. student in the Department of Sociology at the University of California, Berkeley.