Fire Water (2021) is a work that aligns with this idea of the heterotopic experience. Similar to cinema and theatre, it operates by darkening the space in which it happens. This is true for the gallery space as well as for the online version of the work. The fading out of as many visual distractions as possible allows the audience to interrupt their daily flow of actions and step into a different mode of perception – be it sitting in a chair in the gallery or in front of the computer at home. The lights are dimmed, the auditive capacity is triggered and a different listening process begins. But what sound does one hear? A soothing sound, intimate, close. It is a sound that requires time, since it is not clear how it should be decoded. The title of Victor’s work, created in collaboration with Martin Kirkwood, does not provide any answers either. On the contrary, it leads even deeper into the dilemma of oscillation. Is it fire that can be heard? Is it water? The sound allows one to enter this other space and challenges the imagination. Going back and forth between the elements: FIREWATERFIRE. Merging the elements. But whatever is imagined —the common moment that both interpretations produce— is that of a very intimate space. A space of comfort. The burning log of the campfire holds the same protective capacity as rain that drips on the window – both spaces are crucially connected to the inside of the house, the house as shelter. Fire Water is that place of daydreaming. It is a work that contains the capacity to unleash deeply rooted images that connect to the archetypes of human shelter. It allows us to regain our senses, specifically in a time that bears the imprint of social distancing, a continuous moaning about online isolation and the loss of bodily experience. To reconnect —no matter if one is sitting or walking in a gallery or stuck at home in front of a computer— with memories and capacities that are within us.