the call.
Either, Or invites submissions for exit ii, its second exhibition. An object might be understood as a vessel and the soul as its occupant, but the relationship need not be so easily defined. Perhaps an object carries a soul, or acquires one through use, memory, labour, attachment, loss, ritual or time. Perhaps the soul exists apart from the object, exceeds it, or disappears altogether. Perhaps an object is not passive at all, but bears witness, keeps histories, shapes identities and takes part in our lives.
The plurality of objects suggests abundance, repetition, disposability, collection, possession and the everyday. Objects pass between us, outlive us, become obsolete, are repaired, inherited, discarded, treasured, forgotten or rediscovered, and their apparent inconsequence can hide what they contain: livelihoods, relationships, routines, histories, desires, violence, care, grief, faith, migration, labour and memory. The singularity of the soul gestures toward identity, presence, consciousness, fragility and what resists material definition. It may be spiritual, psychological, cultural, collective, ecological, technological, symbolic or entirely metaphorical, and it may belong to a person, a place, a building, a community, a machine, an archive, an image, an object, or none of these.
The exhibition proposes no fixed relationship between its two terms. Read them as a relationship, a contrast, a dialogue, an exchange, an analogy, a contradiction or a literal encounter. Submissions might consider:
- Can a building, landscape, machine, archive or digital artifact possess a soul?
- What happens when the vessel remains but its occupant is gone?
- What really is an object, and a soul?
- Can the soul exist without an object through which it becomes visible?
- How might objects embody memory, displacement, labour, intimacy, violence, care or belonging?
- Where does the boundary between subject and object begin to dissolve?
- What becomes of the soul in an increasingly technological, reproduced and virtual world?
These are provocations, not limits. Work may be personal or collective, intimate or political, spiritual or secular, literal or abstract, historical or speculative. We want submissions that are provocative, experimental, exploratory, unconventional and unfamiliar: use the exhibition to test ideas and to try new tools, methods and forms of representation.
Open to all students, and to artists, architects, designers, writers, photographers, illustrators, filmmakers, researchers, makers and interdisciplinary practitioners among them, in any medium: process work, drawing, collage, painting, photography, sculpture, installation, architectural work, models, objects, writing, poetry, film, sound, digital media, research, archival work, speculative work and experimental forms that resist categorization. We are less interested in a single definition of either term than in assembling different interpretations beside one another, so that the exhibition becomes a conversation about what objects hold, what souls inhabit, and what may exist between the two.
how.
Click anywhere empty on the board and post one project: a title, your name or a pseudonym, a statement of up to 200 words, a few short answers for the collective, and one file documenting the work: an image (jpeg, png or heic, 10 MB), a pdf (20 MB), a video (mp4 or webm, two minutes, 90 MB), or a youtube or vimeo link. You may post more than one project, each separately. Physical or printed work may not exceed 36 by 36 inches or 20 lb. The collective selects from the board and reaches those artists by email; original work can then be brought in.
- closes
- 21 october 2026, 23:59
- exhibition
- 6 november 2026, 16:00
- where
- first floor hallway by the admin office, Daniels
- contact
- eitheror.exhibit.daniels@gmail.com
the collective.
Either, Or is a student collective founded at Daniels in January 2026 to show work that never reaches a crit: photography, film, and objects made outside any assignment. Its first exhibition, Between, a Second Life, claimed the faculty's locker corridor for a single evening in March. Pieces hung on the inside faces of open locker doors and sat within the compartments themselves, so seeing anything meant opening something.