A vast timber loop with the lower long-side cut out, and in the gap a delicate line of shifting smoke. Two circular elements face one another, a smoke-emitting gun and a propeller, the space between illuminated brightly.

The shots of smoke shifts from contunuous to punchy bullets, and the fan speeds up, slows down, and alternates direction. The void in the machine becomes an open-air wind tunnel, inviting you to either sit back and get sucked into the performance, or intervene with your own body, disecting the smoke and disrupting the order. “Suddenly always” is the English translation of Guillaume Cousin’s room-sized machinary, the system is continuous, suddenly interrupted by activity then calm. 



Over a looping 18 minutes, the smoke dances in time to a score by composer Clement Edouard, a soundscape which varies from a delicate subtlety to a drone taking over the entire gallery space, the aesthetics of the smoke responding in kind - as discrete mist to an all-encompassing fog. On a whim, the fan changes direction, rejecting the shot of smoke and setting the two elements in competition, before then changing back to an inhale, and sucking it up back into the machine.



Cousin is interested in the movement of matter: a cloud slowly forming and disasembling, a mountain inching skywards, the big bang that started it all. As an observer, it’s hypnotic, the vacuum not only seemingly sucking in the vapour, but also the anxieties, distractions, and concerns present before one encountered the installation.

This installation of the work was held at Glasgow’s Centre for Contemporary Arts for Sonica Festival, having previously been exhibited in France and will be visiting other forthcoming sound-art festivals.