An excerpt from a text by Gerald Weber (from the artist's website): ... In film and literature hotel rooms have in the past served to romanticize someone's existence in a kind of limbo, in a drawn-out process of self-dis­cov­ery they've chosen for themselves. But hotel rooms remain temporary locations for the people staying there, whether stories of high drama, wild romances or forbidden love are involved. The majority are nothing more than plain settings for equally plain, everyday events, in­ter­me­di­ate stopovers and anonymous refuges that are each day reset to their original state by cleaning staff and relieved of any and all traces of the previous night. In Hotel Room this fleeting state is literally frozen: A growing layer of ice covers the unadorned room, the floor, the bed, the furnishings, and lastly the walls. We first witness this meta­mor­pho­sis in the details, the ice covering the table legs, the milky, translucent layer that spreads over the white sheet. Crystals form, the last drops of water scurry over the walls in dark lines, and the entire room congeals, its state resembling a cave in eternal ice. ...