Runtime: 15:05 minutes
Artist: etaïnn zwer
Description: The world is spinning in slow mo while we watch the (never-ending) end of the heteropatriarcapitalist order through our binoculars, while we wait for holidays, real ones, while we dream (a not so little dream) about love time sweat promising confusion touching strangers beats futures crowded skins and feelings. Madly. In this particular moment caught between Miss Rona’s roller coaster and pent-up sexual and creative frustration, a bunch of apocalyptic dykx* dressed each other up, stripped each other down, and sang their hearts out in an imagined bunker club. Yeah. Welcome to Club Apocalips. You've heard about it, in your fantasies, on everybody’s lips. It's a journey. You wanna have a piece of it, taste it. That's right, it's right there, for you. Come on in and dance yourself clean…
A writer and an artist, part of the queer colleXtive RER Q, etaïnn zwer (t/s/hey) practice-s a utopic investigation obsessed by the empowering metamorphosis of the poem, to make more fuckable and decolonized worlds come true. their work —hot texts, ritualised performances, writing+drag workshops— has been featured in galleries [Rond Point Projects (Marseille), Marcelle Alix (Paris), Mimosa House (London)], festivals [extra ! (Centre Pompidou Paris), Littérature, etc. (Lille)], on the radio [Station Station, Rinse]. and in magazines such as Phylactère, Panthère Première, How to become, L’Incroyable. shey are currently writing her first «performed novel», a cumming of age poetic fantasy about sport, truth, genderfuck, psychoanalysis, Mariah Carey, and desire-s: G X M N X S T X. and looking for a queer producer to accompany their musical avatar in the making, so hit them up.