Cast out from the ecclesiastical refuge of the inner sanctum Kenny Watson’s Kissing Bench and Void Hopper bravely buttress the facade of the building with amorous magnetism.
By the main entrance a Siamese memorial bench arrived to boldly proclaim the material permanence of its narcissism. Forsaking the sedentary dignity of its principal function, its rudely abject deformity invites members of the destitute classes to copulate within its fused embrace in fleshy mimesis of its own illicit unity. May its creaking beams fudge the radar of the twisted councilman who patrols, saw in hand, intent on spiteful surgery.
Round the corner, beneath the east-facing portal, a bus shelter seeks respite from torrents of drunken abuse. After a desperate leap into the void it tragically finds itself only partially hidden from the twilight caravans of pissers, taggers and trash tossers. It peaks through the railings resignedly, as an opportunist tomcat takes careful aim. A long-dead traffic warden, residing spectrally inside a police cone at the corner of the pit, imparts a consolatory monologue on life beneath the limits of visibility. Strong bonds are formed within the malodorous void.
“Mankind is currently on the brink of being dragged to hell but our collective grey matter will see us through the colonic kinks in the path to total enlightenment.”
– Shigeru Miyamoto, senior managing director of Nintendo