Kari Kadak pulls things off sidewalks and makes them matter. Not as a statement. Not as practice. As a reflex — the same way other people breathe, or lie, or check their phone at 3am looking for something they cannot name. The city discards. He takes. Whatever happened between those two moments is not art school. It is not a concept. It is not direction. He cannot look at a dead object without needing to know what it was thinking or what it wants to become.The process runs in the wrong dir...
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