Part four
Plume Work from Underneath
Image: Lubaina Himid, Three Architects (2019), on show at New Museum, June 2019.
The enchanted Plume wakes up in a ship. “Bad day indeed, gloomy sky, floppy biscuits, mumbling engines. I’ll doubt whether the history has been bored to death if the wall manuals are not so bright and sharp; Maybe the manuals are only warning a looming end of everything.” His voice wavered as he looked around.
Plume does not recall how he ended up with such secluded crew, but he feels connected to them, like the threads and paddles that merge into colorful patches.
Signs give out orders, never exhausted, never ambivalent. Yet symbols seem not to lead anywhere, except the snobbish, satirical echoes from centuries ago. Plume sits down at the table, three men facing him and one on both sides; another staring at the front beyond the world Plume can see. They all look away from where Plume sits, maybe because his suit is too dull, maybe he stays too silent. History can be indeed dull and silent, until it weaves into delicately patterned textiles. Nothing can compete with the textiles.
Plume finds some slim and colored plates by the wall. They seem to be weaving, well orchestrated to push forward the ship. The strange thing is they cast shadows on a solid surface, shadows dovetailing with one another in a smarter rhythm. Plume is confused.