A military radio from the mid-twentieth century hangs suspended inside a dyed avos’ka — the netted string bag of everyday Soviet life — hanging on a broom handle. A pair of empty shoes waits beneath it. The stencilled warnings, serial numbers, and operational text found on the radio’s upper lid have been reappropriated as source material, reshaping the form and logic of the found object. Up close, the headset emits sound which is a continuous broadcast, synchronised to local time, murmuring announcements, news, and half-heard conversations.
The work treats listening as a condition of belonging. Moving between intimacy and authority, domestic memory and state address, the broadcast offers a persistent invitation to tune in — its voices promising familiarity and recognition, while quietly rehearsing the narratives through which identities are maintained, negotiated, controlled and suspended across the borders.
