Lost time and the motions of the in-between (2025)

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9 August - 6 September 2025

A+ Works of Art, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Curated by Alain Zedrick Camiling

What happens when a motion is repeated, isolated, and/or amplified? When a sound, whether heard or merely sensed—a drip, a creak, a pulse—lingers longer than it should, what kind of resonance does it leave behind?

Lost time and the motions of the in-between is built around lingering: around moments that don’t quite end, around the tension between movement and stillness, and around presence and absence. It convenes kinetic sculptural configurations of hands, linocut prints, sonic fragments, and a video loop that attune us to the muffled choreography and scenography of the mundane. 

Joshua Kane Gomes approaches this as a form of world-building. The world imagined is not a narrative landscape but a temporal one: a visualisation of limbo, of lost time. He describes this like the ocean at night—vast, unknowable, disoriented by the absence of light, and yet not empty. It is through this darkness where waves cannot be seen but can be heard; you feel their pull, which provokes sensations: the splash of water gently kissing the shore, the cool ocean breeze, and the echo of something just beyond reach. It is calm, yet in constant motion, a contradiction that mirrors the emotional terrain of limbo or suspended time.

The exhibition is an inquiry into time’s registers, perhaps one that is at once tactile, auditory, and conceptual. Through works on display, hands are portrayed as predictably spirited, being primary conductors of resonance, holding a piece of driftwood, steering a wheel, notating music, echoing a drip, and devising gestural movements. These are normally unseen, unheard, and unfelt until they are looped, mechanized, and made to speak, carrying affective and sonic charges. In the same lens, the sculptural works in this exhibition don’t just move; they hum with memory, repetition, and dormant emotion, which help us tune into the latent frequencies of the ordinary. For the artist, these function as navigation tools within uncertain territories, where driftwood forms serve as anchoring points, while kinetic sculptures mark time’s passage through repetitive gestures.

Furthermore, Gomes reflects on the ideas of micro-time and macro-time, something visceral or external, natural or mechanical flow of systems and time. The kinetic sculptures mark time not just with precision, but with feeling. They loop and pulse not like industrial machines, but like breath, or a ritual. In this sense, the exhibition resists productivity, linearity, and resolution. It offers a temporal space that is slow, intimate, and gently disorienting, reinforced by familiar objects and motions.

Works from Lost time and the motions of the in-between are slowed down, repeated, and given life, which accumulate resonance: a flick of a finger becomes a metronome, a held object becomes a weight of memory, and a drip becomes an infinite interval. One is invited to tune in, to participate in this world-building, not to look for meaning, but to feel frequencies, these motions of the in-between where time doesn’t move forward—it ripples. In this space, such resonance becomes a trope to understand how mundane actions, all-too-familiar materials, and forgotten sounds can vibrate with new intensity when recontextualized.

In Lost time and the motions of the in-between, the everyday is rendered acoustically and spatially expressive, not only through representations of motions of everyday visual cues, but also through mechanisms of attunement to frequencies we might otherwise miss. From the rhythm of droplets from a faucet, the friction of finger taps on wood, and the ghost of a musical phrase before it’s played, among others. Each of the works here is transposed as a resonator, vibrating the threshold between the mechanical and the intimate, the silent and the sonic.