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Mellors acknowledges the Saturday Morning Cartoon upbringing grown with Beckett absurdism. Examplar of art-today's newfound coalition with entertainment. But Mellors' complicitness with television, friendly and enjoyable as they seem, are terrifying for their adeptness manufacturing futility in comedic timing. To watch someone enter your head and unpack a gag reel of existential disconnect. Alienation, like Ha Ha funny. Much of Ourhouse's comedy is premised on the family's total inability to communicate. No member ever quite registers with another except in terms of tertiary objects of concern and left longing in the wide berth between what is meant and what is received, and an ongoing inability to find meaning in their world.
See too: “Sirens” at Christian Andersen, Venice Biennale vs "Surround Audience" Triennial, “Puddle, pothole, portal” at Sculpture Center
