Ingestion, Digestion, and Kokoreç

“Trains pulled by steam locomotives moved ceaselessly in and out of the main hall, which served as a vessel for these mighty machines—a kind of mechanical coitus,” says Eva Fàbregas in an interview about the exhibition. Into this industrial monument known as the Hamburger Bahnhof, which the artist envisions as a “giant mouth” or “womb,” she has placed something organic, something amorphous—which is a contradiction, for nothing here is shapeless or formless. The focus on the physical is unmistakable: everywhere, tubers, ball-shaped tubes, and chains of balloons, winding forms in elastic fabric. Construction foam? Pollen? Marshmallows? Like snot and slime, the mustard-yellow, pink, and lilac Lycra sacks hang from the ceiling, winding around steel beams and reaching out at me with nubby tentacles. A museum employee remarks that one visitor is eaten and digested every day.