Gallery44’s “In The Living Room” Invites Audiences Into a Shared Act of Presence

An intimate dinner unfolds upstairs inside a restored Primrose Hill townhouse. Around the table, artists, writers, curators, and invited guests gather not simply to observe, but to participate. Betty C Fan and Hannah Dowling begin with readings, while those seated around them are invited to write down words, thoughts, and fleeting reflections. These fragments are not collected as mementos. Instead, they become the first gestures of the artwork itself.

As the evening progresses, the performance expands beyond the dining table. Guests move through Gallery44 and into the surrounding garden, where sound, language, silence, and movement begin to unfold in dialogue. Fan activates sculptural instruments she has built by hand, producing resonant acoustic soundscapes, while Dowling responds through live writing and poetry. Audience contributions continue to shape the performance in real time, dissolving the familiar boundary between artist and observer. Rather than following a script, “In The Living Room” evolves through improvisation. Each response becomes the starting point for another. Words give way to sound; sound returns as language. Pauses carry as much meaning as speech, while the atmosphere of the house itself becomes an active participant in the work.

At a moment when so much communication is filtered through digital interfaces and algorithmic systems, “In The Living Room“ proposes something quieter yet increasingly rare: the act of being fully present with others. Conceived specifically for Gallery44’s domestic setting, the project reflects the gallery’s commitment to intimate, process-led encounters while inviting audiences to become active participants in the work itself.

Whitewall spoke with Gallery44 founder and gallerist Jino Murad, along with artists Betty C Fan and Hannah Dowling, about the origins of the project, the role of improvisation and audience participation, and how sound, language, and shared presence can become materials for artistic exchange.

WHITEWALL: What was it about “In The Living Room” that resonated with you, and why did it feel like the right project for Gallery44?

JINO MURAD: What first drew me to Betty and Hannah’s project was a very instinctive response. I had seen an earlier iteration of the performance and was completely moved by it. There was something so sincere and quietly powerful in the way they worked together through sound, writing, silence, and response. I felt it needed to be shared more widely.

For Gallery44, it was important that the presentation became something specific to the space. We developed the evening in three acts. It began with an intimate dinner where friends of the gallery, writers, curators, and invited guests shared words and reflections that became part of the performance itself. As the audience moved through the gallery and garden, Betty and Hannah continued that exchange, bringing together sound, writing, and participation in real time. The evening concluded by gathering those shared experiences into a collective memory.

For me, it was one of those rare performances you simply have to experience in person. The atmosphere, the pauses, and the audience’s presence became part of the work.

At Gallery44, we are particularly interested in experimental, practice-led approaches that create direct, intimate encounters. “In The Living Room” felt deeply aligned with that spirit because it was not simply an exhibition to be viewed, but an experience to be shared collectively.

What moved me most was that the audience’s written responses remained in the gallery throughout the exhibition alongside Betty’s sculptural works and Hannah’s framed writings, allowing the memory of that evening to continue living within the space.

I wanted to give the work space, care, and visibility, and to invite others into the same feeling I had when I first encountered it. I think there is a real need for experiences that slow people down and bring them into genuine presence with one another. Betty and Hannah created exactly that.

WW: Why do you think creating space for this kind of live, shared experience feels particularly relevant today, and what do you hope visitors take away from “In The Living Room”?

JM: I think we are all surrounded by so much noise—digitally, visually, and emotionally—that moments of true presence have become increasingly rare. A live performance asks something different of us. It asks us to be in the room, to listen, to witness, and to feel without the distraction of constant mediation.

“I think there is a real need for experiences that slow people down and bring them into genuine presence with one another.”

Jino Murad

That feels particularly relevant for Gallery44 because the gallery itself is a domestic and intimate space rather than a traditional white cube. It carries the feeling of a home, a room, a gathering, and “In The Living Room” responded beautifully to that atmosphere.

A work like this resists being reduced to an image or a short clip. While documentation is important, its real essence lay in the pauses, the sounds, the audience’s responses, and the atmosphere that unfolded over the course of the evening.

What I hope visitors take away is not a single fixed meaning, but a feeling: the memory of being present with others, of listening closely, and of contributing to something alive and unfolding. The work invited people to leave something of themselves behind, whether through words, thoughts, or simply their presence. That sense of shared memory is very important to me.

A Collaboration Built Through Conversation

WW: How did your collaboration on “In The Living Room” begin, and what have you discovered through working together?

BETTY C FAN: It began over many conversations at our local pub. We kept returning to the same idea: a living room where different media and ideas could meet and mix on the spot, together rather than alone. I bring instruments I have built by hand, each producing a single amplified acoustic sound, and I wanted to hear how sound and words converse live. Not a neat dialogue, but one that works through the gaps, collisions, and friction.

Hannah and I meet the same moment so differently. She reaches for words; I reach for sound. The work lives where those instincts cross. What I keep learning is how to hold it open long enough for it to surprise us both.

HANNAH DOWLING: This collaboration emerged through friendship and a series of coincidences. Betty and I met briefly at the Royal College of Art, but we did not become friends until after graduating, when we bumped into each other at a local pub and discovered we had been living around the corner from one another. It felt as though we met properly at exactly the right time.

We made the most of being neighbours, meeting regularly for coffees, walks, and conversations. Several months later, we unknowingly joined the same poetry collective, Prose Party. That was a turning point because, although we were already close friends, we had not realised how deeply we both cared about writing. Those conversations revealed that, despite working in different media, our practices were rooted in similar concerns around presence, aura, and human connection.

Over tea in a living room, we began imagining what a collaboration might look like, and “In The Living Room” was born.

Working together has shown me how much trust underpins our collaboration. There is a unique synergy between us that allows each practice to respond intuitively to the other in ways neither of us could have anticipated. Betty has also been instrumental in shaping my development as a writer, encouraging me to think of language not only as text, but as something embodied, responsive, and alive within a shared space.

Improvisation, Trust, and the Living Performance

WW: “In The Living Room” unfolds through improvisation rather than a fixed script. How do trust and listening shape the way you respond to one another in real time?

BCF: It is like a jazz band reading from a lead sheet, with just the chord changes sketched out—enough shared structure to keep everyone in the same shape while the playing stays free. We agree on a framework, the skeleton of the session, but the final form remains a surprise until it is over.

We were friends first, and the way our conversations flow at the pub carries directly into how we respond to each other live. When two media collide, I do not smooth the friction away; I work through it until sound and words find each other. Not every moment is met with excitement, and that is exactly the point. Every emotion is allowed in the room; nothing is resolved in advance.

“Every emotion is allowed in the room; nothing is resolved in advance.”

Betty C Fan

HD: Trust is the foundation of the performance. Because Betty and I were friends long before becoming collaborators, we had the opportunity to understand one another beyond our artistic practices. That familiarity allows us to recognise subtle shifts in each other’s energy and respond intuitively in the moment. I often think of it as our auras being aligned.

Listening is just as important as performing. Rather than anticipating what the other person will do, we remain attentive and allow each action, sound, or piece of writing to shape what comes next.

We rehearse very little. We spend far more time discussing ideas, themes, and atmosphere, while deliberately leaving space for the performance to evolve in real time. By entering with a clear intention rather than a fixed script, spontaneity emerges naturally through our interactions with one another, the audience, and the environment.

WW: What can a live encounter offer that no recording or online experience can fully replicate?

BCF: A live encounter offers physical vibration moving through the room. My instruments are made to be sounded, not played back. What you hear is a struck sculptural body moving air, and you feel it in your chest before you name it. The sound has a source you can see and a body you can feel, whereas a recording flattens all of that into information.

The projected writing works in the same way, surrounding rather than sitting in front of you. You leave physically different from how you entered, and that difference is the work.

HD: A central motivation behind “In The Living Room” came from conversations about our growing dependence on our phones and how easily they pull us away from the present moment. We gradually realised that whenever we spent time together, we instinctively put our phones away. It was never discussed; it simply happened. That small, unspoken habit became symbolic of the kind of presence we wanted to cultivate.

A live encounter cannot be fully translated into a recording because it is built upon shared presence. An energy circulates between us and the audience. We respond to one another, the audience responds to us, and that exchange shapes the performance. No two performances are the same because every audience transforms the work differently. For us, the audience does not simply witness the performance; they complete it.

The Audience Completes the Work

WW: Why was it important to invite the audience into the creative process, and have there been any moments or exchanges that have stayed with you?

BCF: Because shared authorship is the central idea behind “In The Living Room.” The thoughts our guests offer are not decoration; they enter the conversation in real time and change where it goes. The audience’s words tell me what the room is holding that night: nerves, tenderness, restlessness—things no one would say out loud.

The exchanges that stay with me tend to come afterwards, when I invite guests to play my instruments. They handle them differently than I ever would and discover textures I have never heard in my own work. One visitor struck one instrument against another and produced a tone somewhere between water and wind. I would never have found it on my own.

HD: Inviting the audience into the creative process is essential because participation transforms them from observers into collaborators. Their words and reflections do not simply inspire the work; they actively shape it. Betty and I continue responding to one another through sound and writing, but those responses are guided by the thoughts, memories, and emotions offered by those in the room. In that moment, performer and audience become part of the same conversation.

We have learned that people often hesitate at first. Contributing something personal can feel vulnerable, especially in a gallery setting. We are interested in dissolving those initial inhibitions and bringing the performance closer to the audience, creating an exchange in which participation feels natural rather than performative.

What Remains After the Performance

WW: Every performance of “In The Living Room” exists only once. When visitors leave the gallery, what do you hope remains with them long after the experience?

BCF: I hope they leave a little more in their bodies than when they arrived. Modern urban life is so cerebral that, over time, it splits the body from the mind. For years I practised as an architect, and I would play the piano to decompress. What pulled me out of my head was something purely physical: the vibration of the keys running through my fingers while my mind followed the sound.

“Modern urban life is so cerebral that, over time, it splits the body from the mind.”

Betty C Fan

If a guest walks out still carrying a sound in their chest, felt before it is named, that is enough.

HD: At its core, “In The Living Room” is an invitation to inhabit the present moment. We hope audiences carry with them not only memories of the performance, but the feeling of having been fully present. If that experience encourages someone to seek out more moments of genuine presence in everyday life, then the work continues beyond the gallery.

I am deeply interested in effect and its transformative potential. Transformation cannot be imposed upon an audience, nor can it be guaranteed. What we can do is create the conditions for something meaningful to occur—a space where people feel open, connected, and receptive. Whatever remains afterwards belongs to each individual, but we hope the experience lingers as a reminder of the value of slowing down, listening, and being fully with one another.