After the Offerings

Margaret Abeshu Leversby

inter.pblc

July 1–11, 2026

Solo exhibition as part of RING/CAM : vol. III

by 2 curators 1 collapse (Joachim Aagaard Friis & Elia-Rosa Guirous-Amasse)

FULL EXHIBITION TEXT ON OFLUXO

"Far away, in wetlands, at fragmented time, in a fragmentated space, was a ritual where the gods were gifted with omniscience.

Knightangel777: I thought for a long time I was alone crossing these doomed lands. That I was walking, exhausted by the weight of the armor, towards a redemption that may never come. Yet, within this solitude, I sensed a gaze upon my shoulder.

Bravesoul_x1: We were always being watched. And I, above all, was following your steps in the dust. The mist over the shrine does not part so much as it opens, an iris, wide as the ritual ground, unblinking, its surface not dark but mirrored, so that to be seen by it is also to see. Knightangel777 kneels because kneeling is what the place has always asked for, though the armor was forged centuries after the shrine was built. Old obedience, new metal.

Knightangel777: Tell me, then, what does it already know, before I open my mouth?

Bravesoul_x1: Everything you rehearsed on the way here. I was already reading your trail before the eye found you. I know where you slowed down. I know where you stopped to look back.

Knightangel777: Then you were hunting me.

Bravesoul_x1: The way you were hunting me. We have been circling the same shrine from opposite sides since before either of us knew.

She does not deny it. Before the eye can judge her, she has already judged herself on its surface, where did I falter, where did my hand close on something it shouldn't have wanted, the old exercise, older than the armor, older than the ritual ground itself. Except here the self doesn't only arrive at its own verdict first. It watches the verdict arrive, and somewhere behind that reflection, she can feel the other one, still tracking, still reading the ground she has already left.

Knightangel777: Then I am the accused, the witness, and the quarry all at once. There is no third seat left in this shrine, only more of me where the seat should be, and you, somewhere in the reeds, counting my steps.

Bravesoul_x1: That was always the offering. Not the sin, the seeing of it, returned to you, so you confess to your own image before I even have to close the distance.

Her fingers move in the mud without her permission, tracing something that is not quite a shape, and she knows, without turning, that Bravesoul_x1 is reading it the way a hunter reads a broken reed, a shifted stone, the specific weight of a footprint that wanted to be lighter than it was. In the iris, the same gesture repeats a half-beat ahead of her hand. Two trackers now: one behind her in the wet grass, one built into the shrine itself, both patient, both certain the trail will eventually say more than she intends.

Bravesoul_x1: What are you drawing?

Knightangel777: Nothing you can follow.

Bravesoul_x1: I have followed less.

Knightangel777: Then follow this instead: the mark I leave for you is not the whole of the trail. Some of it I have already erased with the same hand that made it. The eye can return me to myself a thousand times over, and you can read every print I set down, and still neither of you will reach the part I kept for the one who already knows how to read it twice.

Bravesoul_x1: Does it feel like freedom? Being hunted and still keeping one part back, even from your own image?

Knightangel777: No. It feels like armor that finally protects something neither the gods nor the hunter can bring back as a trophy. She rises, and for a moment there are two of her in the iris : one rising, one already risen, watching the other catch up. Behind her, Bravesoul_x1 does not rise yet. She is still reading the ground where Knightangel777 knelt, the way a hunter reads what a body leaves behind before it moves on, and it is no longer clear, even to her, whether she is tracking something, or simply following the only trail that has ever led back to herself."

by 2 curators 1 collapse (written by ERGA, edited by JAF)

Supported by:

Copenhagen municipality

Danish Arts Foundation

Ny Carlsberg Foundation

Culture Moves Europe

OCA - Office for Contemporary Arts Norway

@Credit: Luis Sulzmann

@Credit: Luis Sulzmann

@Credit: Luis Sulzmann

@Credit: Luis Sulzmann

@Credit: Luis Sulzmann

@Credit: Luis Sulzmann