For her exhibition at Lars Friedrich gallery in Berlin, Georgia Sagri invents a social and aesthetic body: an assembly of assemblages and the insides are coming out. The fleshy ripped parts, the touched and informed parts, the messy wet parts that then dry and are cracked and repaired: as these forms collect and assemble, they compose one another, en masse. They are investing in the inside out of forms, onto the negative of the negative and their points of view, looking like from another place, creating an infrastructure from which alternative, embodied organization can be felt. An open apparatus: a set of propositions about the textures and materials of an experimental body. Though cornered and contained, they live together beneath the register of what is properly made. It is a somatic and massified makeup of materials, affects, textures, excesses, abandonments, and multiplicities. An assemblage is a multiplying set of propositions across varying spaces and times: an everywhere irruptable potential to collectively recompose. The assembled body is internally differentiated but indistinct. To assemble is to differentiate.

Her sculptures are both touched and a performance of touching. Sagri knelt, squatted, and bent around a bathroom sink, column base, stairs, and cracked street. She filled each surface with paper — wet, squeezed paper — and its chewed pulp absorbed surface: transient, impersonal dirt held wet and encased by contact. That which gathers in cracks and corners, in improper spaces openly abandoned, in the sinks and drains where no sovereign goes, is collected. “What is staying,” writes Sagri, “is the time or the length of a touch.” Touching is one of those blurring modes, collapsing subject and object. But its ethics are complicated, as José Muñoz asks, “What is it to enact a mode of touching that isn’t about mastery, that isn’t about foreclosure, that isn’t about fusing, that isn’t about collapsing things?”1 Touching both marks and cleans. As a domestic fiction, the household maintains a bodily arrangement, a particular distribution of resources and erotics. Yet what is assembled here under the title of Household breaks down and alters what the house otherwise “keeps.” As a transformational practice, it tends to the debris of domestic edifices. It insists that a political body must emerge from a site as contested and starved as this.

There is a legend about the archon; that it weaponizes the archive, holding only what is properly valuable and disappearing the rest. A domesticated archive only produces loss. But something resists that house arrest — maybe some remnants, a crowd of them. They index the contour of dirt, dragging it into their cross-temporal assemblage. A sink’s drain: the persistent absent-presence of maintenance. Sagri’s work tends to the emergence of what evades. This is her sculptures’ fugitive performance. Of the multiple etymologies of anarchy – an- arche, against the law and the people without government – Sagri’s Household inscribes another: “without beginnings.”2 An an-originary anarche refuses the cold fiction of a single point — a unit, an individual, a time — to arrange refuse into another kind of durational infrastructure. There are so many times here (and there), and in assembling — collectivizing, making a body — they disassemble beneath the order reproductive management. They have already begun, and ended too. In deviating from origin, in gathering a plurality of living alter-times, Household’s body assembles and supports the fleshed materials of another proposal. An-arche-: deregulated maintenance, erotic support, wayward home, lawless archive.

— Sarah Richter