Within the light, archival embrace of the National Gallery in Prague, a new type of history is emerging: a history that looks back only as far as Now.
At the age of 23, and after consulting various signs and traces found in nature, underground car-parks, scrappy annotations and angry, bee-stung flesh, Lukas Hofmann is organizing his Retrospective, since he knows that he will never be a 13 year old Ukrainian girl model crying to her mother from Paris via Skype, again.
Through the processes of mythmaking, a collection of well-dressed bodies transforms at points, into an amateur choir, some kind of a lung, and a series of lips smearing along a red thread that pierces through the thick soya smells and the woven construction-site membranes. A body becoming an object of the exact same weight as a body.
In the ensuing confusion, a bee is released into the audience.