Love is real and it is in Babeworld’s computer

Love is Real, and it’s Inside Of My Computer is an exhibition by intersectionally disabled collective Babeworld and sound artist utopian_realism that focuses on the social and administrative relationships present in projects commissioned by creative institutions. The exhibition questions the art world’s ability to support neurodivergent individuals and groups, while also highlighting the mental burnout artists experience when managing expectations.

Love is Real… explores the possibilities of self-care in the artists’ everyday lives, where games have become work and an elusive fictional project is rapidly morphing into new forms due to relentless administrative requests. Heavy black curtains line the interior of Grand Union, reinforcing the impression that the exhibition focuses on the inner construction of a world. Mounted at the center of the draped wall, with purple light streaming from its edges, a monitor displays words describing the ambient soundscape of utopian realism, including ethereal chimes and moments of silence with “slowed and drawn-out whooshes.” At the center of the gallery is a large square structure made of industrial stud wood; inside is a modern live-work space with a gaming monitor showing the artists’ new film.

The interior walls of the room are painted a glossy pale pink, while a nearby lightbox resembles a window. We are invited to sit at the desk facing the monitor or on a sofa. Inside, furnishings and decorations are reminiscent of Japanese anime, cosplay and gaming: wigs and plush toys hang from rods and spread across the furniture and floor, while a carton of Ribena blackcurrant juice drips a silicone replica of its contents onto the desk. The words “Love is real and it’s in my computer” appear on a hand-tufted rug designed to resemble a CD and on two posters pinned to the wall, overlaid with hearts and pinging message icons. Everything in this environment demands your attention.

On the monitor, a neurodivergently coded character (Babeworld’s preferred terminology) speaks directly to the camera as she attempts to fill a coffee pot, going through numerous glitches. A dialogue begins about how games reset a scene when an action fails. A plush version of the video game character Sonic the Hedgehog crashes out of a plane, prompting the film’s narrator to say, “It’s not like a beautiful natural awakening in the movies; it’s more like being hit on the head with a hammer by my own thoughts.” This film’s collective autofiction articulates tight cycles of events in which ordinary days drag on and repeat with the rising and setting of the sun, accompanied by the pressure to realize a project.

Amid these overwhelming cycles, the protagonist finds solace in doomscrolling through social media: images of a baby skunk wearing a pink bow, YouTuber Brian David Gilbert, and a Hello Kitty Nintendo Dreamcast console flit by. New project drafts emerge and die like mayflies in a wired, chronically online vortex. An Excel spreadsheet (the touchstone of any arts administration) promises the perfect, dreary conditions in which a budding idea might emerge.

Alongside the video’s sly humour, conventional artistic practice has retreated to fragmented wild activities on the walls next to the monitor, including a hand-etched mirror and a lampshade with oceanic patterns. An A4 pencil drawing by musician SOPHIE and a tribute to Mamoru Oshii’s acclaimed anime film Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence (2004) are pinned to the wall. The strength of Love is Real, and it’s Inside Of My Computer lies in how it places generosity at its core and uses it to raise active questions about what constitutes culture, who participates in it, how it can be accessed, and how the freedoms present in cultural spaces can be shared.

“Love is Real, and It’s Inside Of My Computer” by Babeworld and utopian_realism is on at the Grand Union in Birmingham until August 3rd.

^{Main image: Babeworld and utopian_realism, ‘Love is Real, and It’s Inside Of My Computer’, 2024, exhibition view. Courtesy of the artists and Grand Union, Birmingham; Photo: Patrick Dandy}