My Body is Dust takes place in London's Asylum Chapel, which is not an intact historic building, but a space that has been opened several times, then abandoned, and is still in view today. Its walls, glass windows, structure, and mutilations are like a body, changing over time. We don't want it forced to restore its original function, nor do we want to give it a new meaning. Instead, we want to let it enter a state of being used without being prescribed.

Based on Giorgio Agamben's (1942- ) L'uso dei corpi, this book attempts to detach 'use' from function and purpose. Agamben points out that use is neither possession nor a completed act, but a state of being with something. In this sense, the body is not a subject, nor a starting point for action, but a being that is always in use. The exhibition will begin by exploring how the body enters a space, remains within it, and passes the time.

There will be chairs scattered randomly throughout the gallery. These chairs may form part of an art installation or serve as both a guide for pedestrian flow and a resting area. They are simply placed between works, in passages, at the edges of structures. They serve as a presence that can be used or ignored. Sitting down does not signify the commencement of viewing. Conversely, rising does not mark the conclusion of observation. The body can linger, lean, hesitate, or repeat the same path over and over without realising it. Viewing is no longer a task to be accomplished, but a state that can be interrupted at any time.

The body is not asked to understand anything in this space. It is simply allowed to exist, to be slowly used up by time. The body is not an entity that possesses itself, but a place that can only be revealed in use. The exhibition really happens when the viewer sits down, gets up, and returns, not as an object to be viewed, but as a period of time used by the body. Dust, often a symbol of death, can represent this very cycle, becoming a new beginning. It adheres to the surface of the building, and is also stirred up, drawn in, and settled again in the actions of the people.

Dust carries memories without fixing any meaning. It is both a residue and a condition of generation. Within the exhibition, the pair of concepts' decay' and 'regeneration' need not remain mutually exclusive. They may coexist within a process of continuous utilisation. 'Dust', as the residue of death, persists at low intensity. It is a state of the body that is still being used, but no longer owned or archived.

We do not seek to awaken a dormant space, nor do we promise a definitive outcome. The exhibition embraces uncertainty, deviation, and misinterpretation, and the gradual loss of clarity as works pass through repeated encounters. The life of a church may stem from some pivotal event. More significantly, it arises from the accumulation of countless minute and seemingly purposeless acts of use. When bodies enter here, linger, move, and return, the space ceases to be an object to be viewed and becomes a place still in use. The exhibition leaves no conclusions; only traces of its use are recorded.