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unenclosed — Orange string, pulled taut, crisscrosses the room. For those entering the room, it is like walking into a net. The tension is palpable. I walk through the crowd to the point where all the strings come together under the ceiling in one thick, heavily weighted strand. Holding on, I cut through them with a pair of scissors – and let go. Then things move very swiftly: the string unrolls through whirring pulleys, counterweights whiz down to the floor and some 20 rods of tulle unravel throughout the room from a height of 
4.5 metres. By closing around the people in falling, the almost transparent curtains open up new spaces.