SOCIOPLEASURE
the Fierce Luxury of the Ephemeral

I let it fall—
celluloid like water.
Time falling.
My voice forming in the fall,
between bodies.

Pleasure not held,
only passed
then gone.

I build this installation from celluloid, letting it spill from the ceiling and gather like a waterfall. The material is fragile: sensitive to heat, to light, to touch. It changes as it hangs. What looks fluid is recorded; what feels continuous is already breaking down.

I’m not interested in capturing time.
I want to remain with it
as it slips, as it thins, as it leaves.

The waterfall never arrives anywhere;

it only falls.

In that falling, my voice becomes porous. It doesn’t speak from above or outside, but emerges through proximity:

through shared darkness, shared sound, shared duration with those who enter the work.

The pleasure I’m searching for is not instant. It doesn’t resolve. It unfolds slowly in attention—through the quiet intensity of being together while knowing it cannot last. In a culture of constant enjoyment, pleasure is often treated as something to achieve—an experience to claim and complete. Here, I interrupt the demand for immediacy and make room for another kind of pleasure: collective, fragile, and deeply ephemeral—something to share and release.

Here, pleasure is not an object.
It cannot be taken away.

It circulates between bodies, material, and time. The waterfall becomes a place to linger, to notice one another,

to feel how intimacy can appear—briefly, fiercely—then dissolve back into the dark.