The White Cube - Here’s my pitch. Who wants it?

The White Cube - Here’s my pitch. Who wants it?

Imagine a perfect countryside house — the kind you’d see on a postcard.

Four neat  wooden windows.

A centered Ornate front door.

Symmetry. Calm. Beauty.

Now step closer.

Behind each window: piles and piles and piles of stuff.

Not rubbish — beautiful things.

Collected, inherited, adored, hoarded.

A lifetime of “just in case.”

A lifetime of “we might need that.”

A lifetime of “don’t throw it away.”

The house looks full because it is.

The house looks heavy because it is.

The house looks perfect until you really look.

Now move to the back door.

It’s cracked open.

Stuff is spilling out like breath escaping a body.

Ivy taps on the glass — gentle, insistent —

as if the garden is whispering:

Come outside. Come back to the soil. Come back to breath.

The allotment behind the house tells the truth.

Once immaculate.

Now overgrown.

Vegetables bolting, collapsing, going to seed.

Tools abandoned:

the lawnmower, the hedge trimmer, the rake, the hosepipe still running water into the earth.

Everything they once used to create beauty now sits like a shrine to what they lost.

And then — the shed.

A small, square, almost comically neat shed.

They emptied it.

Painted it white.

Turned it into their own white cube —

a gallery, a sanctuary, a final attempt at nothingness. 

Inside the cube:

White walls.

No window (or a window covered, because imagination is the only view they need).

Two chairs.

Two plates.

A space stripped of everything except breath.

Outside the cube:

All the tools they once needed.

All the objects they once loved.

All the things that once defined them.

Now placed neatly beside the shed like offerings.

The house is the past.

The shed is the escape.

The garden is the witness.

The white cube is the truth.

This is Back to Yesterday and the White Cube —

a story, a play, an installation, a book, a world.

A tale of hoarding, inheritance, memory, and the quiet violence of beauty.

A couple trying to return to nothingness before the weight of everything swallows them whole.

Here’s my pitch. Who wants it?