On View: February 11
Across The Table brings together The Kitchen and BOMB Magazine in critical dialogue and creative collaboration at the turning of anniversaries across both dynamic institutions. With The Kitchen celebrating its 50th and BOMB celebrating its 40th, each has built a community that centers artists and their voices first. In a moment where models of care continue to be central to the ways the future of art can be imagined, The Kitchen and BOMB have teamed up to present a series of conversations via Instagram Live that invite two artists with distinct ways of making and thinking to share common ground. Bringing together folks who have never-before been in public conversation with each other, Across The Table gives space to center the creative process as its own site of exploration ripe with mutual points of departure. The series features artist-to-artist conversations between Sadie Barnette and Meriem Bennani (February 11, 4pm); Jawole Willa Jo Zollar and Kaneza Schaal (February 18, 4pm); Lex Brown and Miguel Gutierrez (February 25, 2pm); Lafawndah and Qualeasha Wood (April 1, 1pm); and Jeremy O’Harris and Brontez Purnell (April 15, 1pm).
This video features a recording of Sadie Barnette and Meriem Bennani on February 11, 2022.
Meriem Bennani (b. 1988 in Rabat, Morocco) lives and works in Brooklyn, New York. Juxtaposing and mixing the language of reality TV, documentaries, phone footage, animation, and high production aesthetics, she explores the potential of story telling while amplifying reality through a strategy of magical realism and humour. She has been developing a shape-shifting practice of films, sculptures and immersive installations, composed with a subtle agility to question our contemporary society and its fractured identities, gender issues and ubiquitous dominance of digital technologies. Bennani’s work has been shown at the Whitney Biennale, MoMA PS1, The Guggenheim museum, Art Dubai, The Vuitton Foundation in Paris, Public Art Fund, CLEARING and The Kitchen in NewYork. Her animated series, 2 Lizards, a collaboration with director Orian Barki, premiered on Instagram during Spring 2020 and was described by The New York Times as “hypnotic...deploying a blend of documentary structure and animation surrealism...both poignantly grounded in actual events and also soothingly fantastical” and its animated protagonists “art stars.” (Jon Caramanica, April 2020).
Sadie Barnette (b. 1984, Oakland, CA) has a BFA from CalArts and an MFA from University of California, San Diego. Sadie Barnette’s multimedia practice illuminates her own family history as it mirrors a collective history of repression and resistance in the United States. The last born of the last born, and hence the youngest of her generation, Barnette holds a long and deep fascination with the personal and political value of kin. Barnette’s adept materialization of the archive rises above a static reverence for the past; by inserting herself into the retelling, she offers a history that is alive. Her drawings, photographs, and installations collapse time and expand possibilities. Political and social structures are a jumping off point for the work, but they are not the final destination. Her use of abstraction, glitter, and the fantastical summons another dimension of human experience and imagination. She has been awarded grants and residencies by The Studio Museum in Harlem, Artadia, Art Matters, Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture, the Headlands Center for the Arts, and the Carmago Foundation in France. She has enjoyed solo shows in the following public institutions: ICA Los Angeles, The Lab and the Museum of the African Diaspora, San Francisco; MCA San Diego, CA; Cantor Fitzgerald Gallery, Haverford College, PA; the Manetti Shrem Museum, UC Davis; and the Benton Museum of Art at Pomona College and Pitzer College Art Galleries, CA. Her work is in the permanent collections of: the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, CA; Brooklyn Museum, NY; Pérez Art Museum, Miami, FL; Guggenheim Museum, NY; JP Morgan Chase Collection; Blanton Museum at UT Austin, TX; San José Museum of Art, CA; Oakland Museum of California, CA; the Berkeley Art Museum, CA; Studio Museum in Harlem, NY; and the Walker Art Center, MN; as well as a permanent, site-specific commission at the Los Angeles International Airport forthcoming in 2024. She is the inaugural Artist Fellow at UC Berkeley's Black Studies Collaboratory. She is represented by Jessica Silverman, where her first solo exhibition Inheritance was on view November 20, 2021–January 8, 2022. Barnette lives and works in Oakland, CA.
ABOUT BOMB MAGAZINE
BOMB Magazine has been publishing conversations between artists of all disciplines since 1981. BOMB’s founders—New York City-based artists and writers—created BOMB because they saw a disparity between the way artists talked about their work among themselves and the way critics described it.
Today, BOMB is a multi-media publishing house that creates, disseminates, and preserves artist-generated content from interviews to artists’ essays to new literature. BOMB includes a quarterly print magazine, a daily online publication, and a digital archive of its previously published content from 1981 onward.
Below is a full transcript of Across The Table: Sadie Barnette and Meriem Bennani, a virtual conversation which took place on February 11, 2022. Meriem Bennani: Hello.
Sadie Barnette: Hi.
Sienna Fekete: This is so fun.
SB: Hi guys.
Meriem Bennani: Hi.
SF: Hello. We have our wonderful ASL interpreter in my bottom right screen.
MB: Thank you.
SF: So welcome everyone to the Across the Table series, an artist conversation series organized by The Kitchen and BOMB Magazine. I'm Sienna Fekete, the Curatorial Fellow at The Kitchen. So, just for those who don't already know about the series, Across the Table is a critical dialogue and creative collaboration at the turning of anniversaries of both of our dynamic institutions with The Kitchen celebrating the 50th, and BOMB celebrating its 40th. Each space has built a community that centers artists and their voices first. For those new to these inspiring institutions since its inception in 1971, The Kitchen based in Chelsea has been a local, national and international nexus of avant-garde and experimental art. BOMB Magazine is a nonprofit supporting artists and conversations since 1981. Quarterly in print, and everyday online. In a moment where models of care continue to be central to the ways the future of art can be imagined, The Kitchen and BOMB have teamed up to present this series for you via Instagram Live.
Thank you everyone for being in this space. And yeah, just to share a little bit about our amazing artists, Sadie Barnette is a multidisciplinary artist from Oakland, California. Her multimedia practice illuminates her own family history as it mirrors a collective history of repression and resistance in the United States. Her latest solo exhibition, the "New Eagle Creek Saloon" is currently on view at The Kitchen presented in partnership with The Studio Museum in Harlem, and a 2020 feature interview with BOMB Magazine details this ongoing engagement with family history.
Meriem Bennani is a multimedia artist based in New York, who first exhibited at The Kitchen in 2017 with a presentation of her video work, "Siham and Hafida.” Juxtaposing, and mixing the language of reality TV, documentaries, phone footage, animation, and high production aesthetics, she explores the potential of storytelling while amplifying reality through a strategy of magical realism and humor. Her recent video project with Orian Barki, titled "2 Lizards" was featured in BOMB Magazine in 2020. Welcome Sadie and Meriem. Thank you so much for being here. Yeah, I'm just gonna have y'all dive right in.
MB: Thank you so much for having us. So, hi, Sadie.
SB: Hi Meriem.
MB: How you doing?
SB: I'm doing good. It's good to see you, even though you're a very small square on the screen and there's a lot of things happening on the screen, but I'm happy to share this moment.
MB: Yeah, me too. Me too. I'm so happy because thanks to this week we got to meet, I mean, on Zoom. And to talk, and it was like really fun to talk to you. I felt really lucky to get to hear you talk about your work. And I guess we were trying to figure out, like what can we do in 30 minutes that can be interesting also on this platform. And we both were agreeing about the fact that maybe we should talk about like the kind of like stressful, the things that are like, maybe like a bit like more vulnerable in terms of just like what it's like to work and put yourself out there. And of course, which is something we talked about, like vulnerability, such a like Instagram aesthetic, right? Like acting like you're just at home, no makeup, like vibe, but like... It's like a weird thing to, I feel weird saying vulnerable on Instagram, but I guess we're gonna try to just like, maybe talk about that, like in relation to our work. So, I want to ask you if there are, some elements of kind of like, like being an artist, and working artist on a daily basis that you don't necessarily get to talk about in other contexts that would be interesting for you to bring up here.
SB: Yeah, for sure. I think I definitely felt like the opportunity to meet you and kind of be set up, on this like friend date in a way where it’s two artists talking. It felt like we don't necessarily just have to talk about our work or sort of within our work, but talk about like, our shared experiences of arriving to work and what it means to show up and work in a studio. What it means to show up and get stuff done or not get stuff done. Or how you can measure, whether you're doing it right, whether the work is moving through the world in the way that you want to. Also just, you know, there's so many kind of parameters around the work and the context that it's being shown in.
And so I think for me, like something with like the Eagle Creek project, that's at The Kitchen right now, it has like all these multifaceted elements that are so joyous and that involve, welcoming so many people into the space and welcoming so many people into history of my dad's bar, the first Black-owned gay bar in San Francisco. But also for me, on the behind the scenes element of it, there's also just a lot of challenges about how I hold that space. Am I the right person to do this project? What does it mean to do a project that involves so many people when I actually really like working alone in my little bubble, in my studio?
But I think for me, at this point, just kind of been arising to the occasion of what the work wants and what the project wants and figuring out how to show up, even if it feels vulnerable or even if like, my palms are sweating and I'm like just trying to kind of be the best version of myself. But also know that like my overthinking, neurotic self is the self that created this in the first place. And how do you kind of like hold all those things at the same time? I don't know. Does that resonate with you? Some parts of that?
MB: Yes. For sure. Yeah, I think, oftentimes I'm like, wait, what am I doing? But I think it sounds like a very silly question, but I think what I'm trying to say is like, I often have like, just kind of like try to remember, like the why I'm making art or like you know, why I'm an artist and not take these simple questions for granted kind of, because I think that like when it's your job in a way, and you have like deadlines and you're reading this machine, it's like sometimes easy to forget kind of like, what is it that we're all doing? You know what I mean?
And I think that, like, it sounds again like very basic, but I try to be super kind of like to stay close to that question, and to intuitively feel like I'm sincerely in conversation with that initial desire to make art that I had like before I was a working artist or whatever that means. But, I do feel like my work kind of like has a relationship to childhood, or like a playfulness as a way of being in the world. So, in a way it allows me to feel like I can always kind of like be in touch with that feeling. And when I lose it, it's very clear. And like I go back to it.
Yeah but I will say also that, like something that we talked about when we met this week and it is a very big kind of like subject, but we talked about just kind of like being in the world as people after kind of like being a little bit rusty, with pandemic, you know? And how that affects also like the way you work, the way you engage with other artists. And so, I don't know, maybe we can talk a bit about that.
SB: I mean, one thing I love that you said is like, kind of going back to that impulse of what you were doing, maybe before you even called it art, or before you understood it as existing in relation to like art history or art spaces or anything like that. It's like, what was that initial thing that just made you, or allowed you to process information by making something or by filming something or observing something or even just remembering something, noticing something. I think, a lot of times that kind of gets lost when you're trying to like make exhibition deadlines and you're trying to like figure out what opportunities to do and what opportunities not to do. And who to be in conversation with and what not to be in conversation with. So I like that, I think I will take that away as something to kind of go back to like that thing before was described as art and a practice, which the term practice, I like it because it allows so many different things to be included, even if it's not just like the studio part or the making part. It might just be like my weird obsession with Hello Kitty, or some like thing that I collect that also gets to be a part of the word practice. So, I do like that word, but at the same time, sometimes I can formalize everything so much that it's hard to just be in it in like an organic way.
And as far as like navigating the world in this moment, in this like long, drawn out transitioning moment, I mean, I just find it so overwhelming to be honest. And I don't know exactly how to do it, except for, I think there is a little more language and vocabulary now around how awkward things are and things were always awkward to me. So, now I'm like, well, welcome to the world. Everyone knows it now. And at least it can be acknowledged a little bit more because I have always just had like three parallel experiences happening at any one time, one that's hyper aware of the situation and how awkward it is. And so I feel like now at least other people are a little bit in on it, if that makes sense.
MB: Yeah. That makes so much sense. I have like a…So, I have a show coming up at end of February and I made a new piece for it. And I've been having this relationship to sharing it with the world, which I'm like, I've always done that, and like of course I'm nervous, but I'm like in a level of nervous for this one new piece that like, I never experienced before. And I really think it is related to like the same way, I'm more nervous to be in a social situation or like even doing Instagram Live, just like being in a place where you feel very exposed.
But something I wanted to ask you is, you know like, is there kind of like... Do you feel, based on things you've done before, that sometimes there is an expectation for like your trajectory from like creators, or like people's expectations for your work? And is there a way that like you can be sometimes categorized or some like subjects that come back that you feel like maybe you wanna move away from, or like you know, you are like coming back too much. And that, I just feel like it's really hard to always stay dynamic because, sometimes you have to be described in shorter ways, and those things stick. So, I was just curious if you could talk maybe about that.
SB: Yeah, I feel like for me, since I'm working in so many different ways, I think I almost have like the opposite maybe challenge sometimes where I'm putting pressure sometimes on myself. Like, do I need to be more streamlined and recognizable in this one capacity or make this thing that's like, oh, that's a Sadie Barnette that hangs on the wall that I can like... And I mean, obviously that's like a market concern, but also you want the work to like have its own life that is kind of like a thread of all of the works connected. Like I think of the works out in the world as like a network that kind of this mycelium network thing that like, they're all in relationship to each other, so I want them to be like cohesive in that way.
But also I think I do enjoy the kind of slipperiness of not being able to like define exactly what makes one of my works, my works when they're all so different. And I think that just allows me to keep on making things in a really kinda modular way, in a way where things are never necessarily finished or nothing's necessarily the final version of itself. It's gonna like be iterated again and kind of, it's like this.
I think a lot of times my practice is like, this way of seeing something or it's a machine that something goes into and then it comes out of like, that process is my practice. So, I feel like in that way I won't be pigeonholed because I also will never be finished. And that is kind of exhausting and also stressful. But I mean, do you feel like you're sort of actively needing to break down like your own sort of what categories have been put your workplace onto or what it's in relationship with? Or often like just the kind of like jargon or buzzwords or shorthand that people sometimes use to describe work, which we know they're useful in terms of like quickly identifying what we mean and finding community, but also sometimes I feel like certain words and categories can just limit the process of understanding or not understanding work.
MB: Yeah. I just wanna say first that I love how you talked about your work, like all the works, kind of forming a network, like you compare it to mycelium. And I love that because that's actually an intelligent network. Like there's communication between the pieces and it's always in conversation and like thinking kind of like, but your pieces existed in different places, but they kind of like all still communicate or like inform each other. And I guess it's just too, like that's the connector in between. And I think it's a cool way of thinking about that because I feel like I do see what all my works share in common, but I kind of like have this attitude where I'm like, I'll be so focused on a piece and then I'm done, and I never wanna open that editing like file again like on the video. And yeah, it's like everything and then I'm done forever. But actually they do function all together. They do kind of like have things in common and communicate and like benefit maybe from each other's presence in the world or something. I mean, in the way that maybe only I can learn from for the next piece.
But yeah, I do feel like I don't know so much that I'm pigeonholed, but maybe my biggest fear is to kind of like, have like microwave practice where I'm like, oh, whoa, like this was received really well. And like, as like an artist who's been showing for maybe five, six years, I've established this language and now if I try something else, like, I don't wanna be scared of trying something else, because one thing has become kind of like the language that I felt could kind of give me some precision in how I wanna like tackle some issues. Precision that I don't have with language when I talk about the work, and I'm like, okay, this is the closest I'm getting to like what I'm really trying to do as an artist. But I don't want something positive to become like also like a limitation, you know? And so, I don't know if it's that it's happening or if it's the fear I'm projecting to kind of like stay challenged.
I do feel like I get so bored whenever my work is described in relation to technology. Because a lot of the technology I use is actually I think, they're old school. So, whenever it's kind of like described as like in the conversations around which already feels old now, like post-internet work or like new media, I think I'm like, those are really not kind of like the subjects they're just mediums I'm using.
And lastly, to answer your question again, I will say that something that I'm sometimes worried about is just kind of like being very aware that I film all my work in Morocco, not because it's necessarily like every piece is about Morocco but that's where I wanna, like, it can be about anything, but like that's who I wanna work with, to talk about, these like family members and people that I cast that I meet online or just like being there. And I feel like sometimes it is a bit like, I try to remember that it's not my responsibility to kind of like represent. Just like, be like in charge of kind of like telling like a story that has like truth for everyone. Because, I'm saying that just 'cause I mostly show here and not there. So, like that is something that I kind of like try to be aware of. That sometimes that I wouldn't wanna be pigeonholed as, yeah.
SB: For sure. Like speaking for an entire history, or an entire community or an entire culture, an entire political situation. I definitely resonate with that. And also resonate with this element of like perfecting your craft and doing something so many times that you're really good at it. And at the same time, wanting to explore something new, wanting to keep pushing yourself and challenging yourself, and that kind of like dynamic and that balance. And then, something that I was thinking about that, I feel like we sort of dance towards the edge too, but just thinking about when it's helpful and generative to talk about your work and when it isn't. I know that's a big part of our job these days is like not just making the work, but talking about it. And I feel like sometimes it's helpful and sometimes it isn't, and I just wondered what you thought about that.
MB: Yeah. Well, speaking of that, this week I watched one of your, the lectures you gave recently. And I'll say two things, the first thing was, you're so amazing at talking about your work. It was so clear and like so articulate and like simple. And when I say simple, meaning like, I just love it when people talk about their work and it's so clear because you understand that, like they really have a genuine relationship to what they're doing. It's just sincere, and also it's clear because in your head it's like, of course it's in progress, but you have a very kind of like, just like smart relationship to your work. So that was cool.
But you said something at the beginning that really felt amazing to hear, or like almost like a relief. And like, wait I should say that all the time, I might steal that. You're like, hey, okay, I'm gonna give you a lecture, and like show you all this work, but just a reminder, like that's just me talking about the work, that's not the work. And I hope that you get to spend time with the work and that's different. And I thought it was so cool that you said that because I think, it's just in a way that we forget to say it. So to answer your question, I feel like it's necessary to be able to explain the work sometimes, to avoid some misunderstanding or just to like, just kind of like give some context that can add to it.
However, I will say just for me, I think that I was talking about precision earlier. The reason I make, I have developed a specific language as an artist that mixes installation and different kind of like modes of editing is, 'cause I found, that's how I get the most articulate about something I'm interested in. And it's really not about talking about it. Like when I talk about it, I can only maybe like cover like one aspect. And when people talk about it, it's always kind of like better. What about you?
SB: Yeah. I feel like definitely the same. I mean even like just thinking about you watching the talk, I'm like, oh no, it's just so like, it's just so crunchy feeling. But also I think that, yeah, obviously like it's important when you're gonna be able to have ownership and be able to talk about the ideas and frame them in a way that you want. But I also feel so often that there are so many people who are better at talking about the work than I am, just like scholars and writers and people who language is their actual tool and their medium and mine only is sometimes so.
But I guess I will say that when I talk about the work sometimes with students, it feels, I guess when it feels like the best sort of exchange is when I can tell that they feel like a type of permission being granted to them when I tell them like, this is just what I did. This is how I did it. This is why I did it. This is what I had to work with and that's what I did, and so I think sometimes, you can kind of feel them being like, oh, like “You can just do that?” Like you can make up your own world and layer it on top of like an existing world. Like that's what Meriem did, that's amazing. Like you can do that, and just to kind of like allow, I think permission and access I think is cool.
There's other times when you just get like these questions that just make everything kind of fall flat and just like makes the work feel... Doesn't make the work feel... It feels like you're supposed to be able to just understand it. And I think there's so much that happens in your work and in my work that isn't supposed to be understandable. It's supposed to be a little bit slippery and messy and layered and not make sense in the way that the world that we're living in doesn't make sense.
MB: Yeah, also I feel like conversations... I mean, I think like the work, not all work, but I think, and tell me if I'm wrong, your work and my work are work that kind of open dialogues. Like they are not just kind of like giving something that needs to be taken or like they're just, there's like a reciprocity or like there's maybe the hope for something to be taken from the work and like something to be given on the other side. And I think that that exists in the work as like kind of like, it's not directed at one person. When you have a conversation, you're gonna kind of like, adapt that conversation or whatever you talk about to whoever you're talking to. But I think something really hard that but also very exciting about art is that, it is supposedly, it's not catering to only one audience, or at least, that's not true of all art, but like I know that like a big challenge for me is to really kind of like not cater to like, I'll just to simplify like a New York audience that I'm around or like American audience like, where action, it's kind of like finding a way that I think it will kind of resonate and be open to anyone. And like with conversation already, you're kind of like only framing it through one perspective or like with one goal. I see Sienna is back.
Sienna Fekete: I'm just going in to do a little bit of a time check to respect both of your days and evenings. And in this last five minutes, I'm gonna just say to the audience, if there's any questions, write them now so I can see them either in the chat or the question box. I'm trying to see, I think there were some from before, but in the meantime, I actually had a question if that's okay. I'm really interested in the ways in which history, memorabilia, nostalgia, like tactile historical objects perhaps, inform both of your work. Like I know family comes in a lot. I know archives, I'm just curious how you would say that, history and this element finds its way in your work, if not centrally, and the importance of it.
SB: Yeah, I mean, I think for me, I think of it as kind of arriving as a form of inheritance, which was actually like the name of the last show I did at my gallery in San Francisco, Jessica Silverman, the name was Inheritance. And I guess I feel like in the sense that maybe you don't necessarily have a choice in it, it just kind of arrives and presents itself as something that needs to be dealt with and addressed. That's how I think of like, both the kind of archive element of like the FBI file and that project, kind of arrived into my life and then it was something that had to be addressed rather than me looking for these historic elements to put into the work. So, I think inheritance both as like a gift, as a responsibility as kind of an obligation and kind of like a, everyone in the family has their different role and you're like, okay I'm like that, that one. So, I think that word inheritance is really what's holding the kind of historical and personal connection to these materials.
MB: I actually have been, so the last thing I've been working on is actually a sci-fi project, speculative sci-fi project. And it's supposed to happen in the future, but it's really about the past or like the recent past. And like sci-fi just kind of like becomes a device for maybe just like having a proxy that makes it easier to talk, which is kind of like the trick of sci-fi. But also a proxy to kind of like talk about Morocco without talking about Morocco directly sometimes.
But in doing that, I've been thinking a lot about history and like fiction. Because, I'm really interested in storytelling, and just like, kind of getting better at telling stories in general, like in narrative. And I've been thinking a lot about fictions that we have created kind of like to justify important like historical decisions. Like for example, the fiction of like the Global South as like a way to justify colonization. Or the fiction of like a unified nation to be like, to have like a nationalist agenda and like being like, this is like a culture, just like the idea of like a country having like this one culture that makes it a nation. Just to kind of like recover from colonization. So all these things I'm like thinking about like in sci-fi like there's opportunity for looking at these fictions that are political and or have an agenda.
And I've been interested in thinking about like, kind of like fiction that maybe is very clearly biased and subjective, and is just like one person's interiority and like one person's like not authoritarian, kind of like, look on the world and like, zooming like going back into just kind of being like, this is how one person is feeling and what happens inside one person in a political moment kind of. So, something just kind of like, I've been thinking about even, it's not necessarily history, but it's the way we historize things.
SF: Oh, I love that. I absolutely love that. And someone just came in with a really good question. How do you decide what story to tell? Which I feel like is a great one. What is that impetus behind the stories that you feel called to tell?
SB: I think for me that's so overwhelming and there's so many stories to tell. And so, I just try to tell the one I know the best, which is usually mine, my story. And hope that it connects to like other stories in the sense that sometimes the more specific it can get, I feel like it's the more universal. And even if it's about you, it's a mirror for somebody else to see their family, their father, their history, you know?
MB: I think that's so on point it's like, it's like almost the most you zoom in, the more like reach a dimension where things are like recognizable again for everyone kind of. And in terms of choosing stories to tell, like, I think it's very intuitive. And when I say intuitive, I think if something really like fascinates me or intrigues me, it's 'cause I personally feel, like it's personal probably. So, it's kind of like, that's the starting point. Just like something is intriguing.
SF: As simple as that. I love that. I don't wanna rush anything. If there's other things that you two would like to discuss, please don't let me stop you. But I want to again honor your time and what else you might be having going on in your day and really just thank you for making this time to be in this space with us, to interview each other, which I think is really powerful to see artists interviewing each other about their work. And being able to, I think in the space be so honest on such a public platform, which I really appreciate. Like I felt like I was just sitting in someone's living room with you, both, which technically I guess could be, through Zoom. I really appreciate the honesty and intimacy.
MB: Thanks for inviting us. Thanks to you now I'm in touch with Sadie and like we had such a great conversation this week. So Sadie, thank you so much. And thank you, The Kitchen was one of my favorite show, like an experience and thank you to BOMB Magazine.
SB: Yeah, thank you so much, and I definitely hope we can hang out and have a conversation in real life as well. I definitely am like, are we friends now? I think we're friends. Great.
MB: Absolutely, all of us. Yeah.
SF: I love this connection.
SB: I'd love to see y'all soon in New York
SF: Bye everyone!
MB: Bye, thank you. Have a good afternoon everyone.