…what is there? Surely the city, our ever-fugitive, often alien home – which will face us at the end of time, as the apocalypse has told us. And just as there is the perfect city at the end of the script, the ultimate community in anthropological terms, so there is the garden at the very beginning. And with it the first rift, not only between man and God, man and man, but also man and nature.
It is not known what the sculptures of Gergely Mindák are, what they are, or where they are going. Are they symbols of transcendent oneness, or models of planet-saving scenarios turning their faces towards a better future, or meta-architectural tableaux of destruction? If not from a crisis of crises, from a dialectical aberration, the works themselves save us, as they dissolve the stubborn polarisation of our thinking about garden and city, about beginning and end.