Anxi & :(
2025 - 2026, ceramic, installation, text
Anxi & :( part of Rana, Golul si Angoasa (RGB)
12.12.2025 - 10.03.2026
Calciu Space, Bucharest
A few bleak thoughts about where I’m from:
Here in this little country, I keep witnessing—as an observer of all those social phenomena that defy definitions—moments when normality, progress, real solutions seem just one step away. And then, suddenly, everything swerves either toward brutal capitalism, sleek and polished yet empty at its core, or toward the wretched paralysis of a many-headed organism whose stated mission is the collective good, but which suffers from chronic anemia and cannot absorb anything nourishing, so it simply pisses everything back out.
It's like wanting to buy a lottery ticket, having the money ready in your hand, only to discover the lottery kiosk has burned to the ground.
A fruit that never reaches ripeness; all the effort of blossoming somehow wasted.
I find myself unable to grow attached, and it's strange to admit that, because this is the only place I've ever lived, the only place I've ever called home.
—Lea Rasovszky, 2025
12.12.2025 - 10.03.2026
Calciu Space, Bucharest
A few bleak thoughts about where I’m from:
Here in this little country, I keep witnessing—as an observer of all those social phenomena that defy definitions—moments when normality, progress, real solutions seem just one step away. And then, suddenly, everything swerves either toward brutal capitalism, sleek and polished yet empty at its core, or toward the wretched paralysis of a many-headed organism whose stated mission is the collective good, but which suffers from chronic anemia and cannot absorb anything nourishing, so it simply pisses everything back out.
It's like wanting to buy a lottery ticket, having the money ready in your hand, only to discover the lottery kiosk has burned to the ground.
A fruit that never reaches ripeness; all the effort of blossoming somehow wasted.
I find myself unable to grow attached, and it's strange to admit that, because this is the only place I've ever lived, the only place I've ever called home.
—Lea Rasovszky, 2025