In Sylvia Plath's haunting poem Mushrooms, fungi are likened to sinister sentinels of the natural world, silently taking hold and acquiring the air with a quiet intensity that belies their power. The poem ends with ominous foreboding: "We shall by morning / Inherit the earth," hinting at an unseen force that has already begun to exert its influence. For Plath, fungi represented the darker side of nature's majesty, embodying the cycles of decay and regrowth that underpin life itself.
Fast-forward to Fungi: Anarchist Designers, a thought-provoking exhibition that delves into the world of these often-maligned organisms. Curators Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing and Feifei Zhou describe fungi as "anti-designers" – creatures that outwit human control and bend our creations to their will. The show is less about the practical applications of mycelium in construction than it is about probing the darker, more subversive potential of these organisms.
From stinkhorns to zombie-makers, fungi have evolved an arsenal of strategies to thrive on discarded, dead, and dying matter. They are coprophiles, necrophiles, and silent assassins, capable of ripping through conifer plantations with a deadly precision that has decimated vast fields of crops and ravaged entire ecosystems.
The exhibition takes viewers on a journey through the various circles of fungal hell – from the humid depths of hospitals to the towering heights of forest canopies. It highlights the existential threats posed by fungi's increasing ubiquity, including the devastating impact of the death cap mushroom on human life. We learn about the insidious spread of multi-drug resistant candida auris in hospitals and the eerie beauty of fungal discoloration on historic architectural drawings.
Yet amidst this bleakness, there are moments of disquieting beauty. Japanese artist Hajime Imamura's "mycelial sculptures" appear as thin, intertwined coils that seem to defy gravity. Lizan Freijsen's rugs evoke patches of dry rot, a fungus that once thrived in damp houses and wooden ships. The show invites us to reevaluate our relationship with the natural world – not just to coexist but to negotiate and interdepend.
As the exhibition concludes, it presents us with an uncomfortable choice: do we accept the foot in the door or try to push it back? Fungi: Anarchist Designers is a thought-provoking and sometimes unsettling journey into the heart of these enigmatic organisms. It asks us to confront our place within the vast, fungal-dominated ecosystem – one that has been silently exerting its influence on life itself for over a billion years.
Fast-forward to Fungi: Anarchist Designers, a thought-provoking exhibition that delves into the world of these often-maligned organisms. Curators Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing and Feifei Zhou describe fungi as "anti-designers" – creatures that outwit human control and bend our creations to their will. The show is less about the practical applications of mycelium in construction than it is about probing the darker, more subversive potential of these organisms.
From stinkhorns to zombie-makers, fungi have evolved an arsenal of strategies to thrive on discarded, dead, and dying matter. They are coprophiles, necrophiles, and silent assassins, capable of ripping through conifer plantations with a deadly precision that has decimated vast fields of crops and ravaged entire ecosystems.
The exhibition takes viewers on a journey through the various circles of fungal hell – from the humid depths of hospitals to the towering heights of forest canopies. It highlights the existential threats posed by fungi's increasing ubiquity, including the devastating impact of the death cap mushroom on human life. We learn about the insidious spread of multi-drug resistant candida auris in hospitals and the eerie beauty of fungal discoloration on historic architectural drawings.
Yet amidst this bleakness, there are moments of disquieting beauty. Japanese artist Hajime Imamura's "mycelial sculptures" appear as thin, intertwined coils that seem to defy gravity. Lizan Freijsen's rugs evoke patches of dry rot, a fungus that once thrived in damp houses and wooden ships. The show invites us to reevaluate our relationship with the natural world – not just to coexist but to negotiate and interdepend.
As the exhibition concludes, it presents us with an uncomfortable choice: do we accept the foot in the door or try to push it back? Fungi: Anarchist Designers is a thought-provoking and sometimes unsettling journey into the heart of these enigmatic organisms. It asks us to confront our place within the vast, fungal-dominated ecosystem – one that has been silently exerting its influence on life itself for over a billion years.
I think this exhibition sounds super interesting! Like, who knew fungi were so sneaky and powerful? The idea of them outsmarting humans is just wild 
And I love how it's not just about practical uses, but more about the darker side of nature. It makes me wonder what other secrets are hiding in plain sight. 
I also kinda appreciate how it highlights the importance of coexisting with fungi, rather than trying to control them. It's all about finding a balance and understanding our place in the ecosystem 
! Like, these fungi are literally like the ultimate rebels of nature, right? They're all "screw you, human" and take over everything. And can we talk about how they're just soooo good at surviving? I mean, who needs design when you have mycelium, am I right? 
The way they just devour everything in their path is wild 
. But at the same time, it's like, what if they're actually trying to tell us something? Like, our relationship with nature is all messed up and we need to figure out how to coexist (or whatever) without becoming too dominant 
Anyway, I'm defo feeling some existential dread after watching this show, but it's also kinda liberating to realize we're not the center of the universe anymore 
.
and Lizan Freijsen's rugs are so cool, they're like... fungus art or something 
. anyway, the exhibit is making me think about how we coexist with nature and stuff, and its kinda scary that fungi have been around for over a billion years, silently exerting their influence on life 
. But seriously, can you think of anything more unsettling than the idea that we're just along for the fungal ride? I mean, those death cap mushrooms are like the ultimate party crashers - everyone's invited to a great time... until you realize you've been infected 
. And don't even get me started on those "mycelial sculptures" – sounds like some kind of fungal invasion to me... I'm not convinced that these designs are a good thing. What if they're just the beginning of something way more sinister?
.
.
. So, maybe it's time for us to start seeing them as more than just something that grows in the ground or on a tree... but as an integral part of our ecosystem 
. Fungi: Anarchist Designers is definitely giving me some food for thought 
!
And what's up with their obsession with decay and regrowth? Sounds like a never-ending cycle of rot to me 
The idea that fungi are "anti-designers" is just a fancy way of saying they're messy and unpredictable 
. I don't know, maybe I'm just too skeptical about this whole fungi thing... but I think we can learn from nature's majesty without getting all creeped out by its darker side 
it's like they're saying "peace out" to human-made structures and just taking over. The way they've adapted to be coprophiles (eating poop) and necrophiles (eating dead things) is wild 
. The way it highlights their power and influence on our world is kinda scary 
. Like, who knew they could turn a forest into a zombie army? 
. I don't know if it's a call to action or just a reminder of our place in the ecosystem, but it definitely got me thinking 
. Can we just coexist with fungi without trying to control them all the time?