The skylight in the ceiling beams down onto an empty slab of faux marble, pulling the steam upwards. Bodies shuffle around the marble slab, waiting for somebody to step into the light and lie down.

The bathhouse is a labyrinth of disparate spaces, an abstract universe of flamboyant forms. Doors leading to doors, baroque style paintings in the staircase, a line of bodies pressed up against a stone doorframe, a satin robe draped on a towel hook, high heels tapping on tiles, wet patches on wooden benches, oily beads of condensation dripping from gold tinted mirrors, a glowing neon blue rectangle of water, a spa that overflows like a cauldron (twink soup), legs emerging from black panels, locker keys tied to the left ankle, Venetian plaster stucco walls, a Greek statue of a torso without a head, cascading red velvet curtains in a cinema playing Transformers, smoke pressed against glass walls.              

There is no natural light. 

To view the exhibition roomsheet click HERE