Mark Mothersbaugh Exhibit

“Soon, the room seems to be boiling. The kettles hiss and rev. A sound like chattering whispers bounces around, off the walls. Then there is something like someone raising the volume on A.M. radio static. Then a sound like somebody snapping crisp bed-sheets. Louder and louder. Then the room starts to boil. They begin to sweat and swallow. Then one, then another, then some more kettles begin whistling. Soon the room is full of screaming teapots. One alone would set your teeth on edge… But all of them coming together sound strangely human. Like an endless chorus, an impossible orchestra. A one-note symphony of crying, wailing tea kettles.”
Paul Pope (100%)