Symptom of the Malaise
Symptom of the Malaise, a zine from Sam Hutchinson documenting a 2020 Electronic Vape expo.Ā
Ā Resembling a dream sequence staged in a London conference centre, a corporate environment filled with clouds so dense they formed a kind of artificial weather system indoors: London Vape Expo took place in February 2020, just months before the Covid-19 forced the world into lockdown. It was less an industry expo than a performance of excess, where the act of inhaling and exhaling became the centrepiece of a strange, self-contained spectacle. All this unfolded just weeks before the pandemic would recast such gatherings as inconceivable, making the scene look even more absurd in hindsight.
Ā At the time, the world of vaping still felt strangely handcrafted and theatrical, more like a traveling sideshow than a consumer marketplace. Tables were cluttered with glass tanks, coils, and tools that resembled a jewellerās bench, while backdrops of graffiti fonts and neon signage made every exhibitor feel like a fragment of a subcultural dreamscape. At the time, vaping hadnāt yet been absorbed by the tidal wave of disposable products that dominated the landscape. Instead, it was a strangely insular and subcultural world, with its own rituals, language, and aesthetics that never fully broke into the mainstream. This underground community, half DIY hobbyists and half would-be futurists, existed for a fleeting moment between the rise of single-use convenience. Looking back, the vape at he time, and its culture feel like a surreal artefact of a very narrow window in historyāan object and obsession suspended between pre-pandemic innocence and the disposable culture that quickly eclipsed it. The absurdity isnāt just in the act itself but in how quickly it became a relic of a time that feels both recent and impossibly distant, the sculptural quality of temporary man-made clouds, and the fetishist quality of the objects making them.Ā
Ā The entire scene had the aura of a temporary world built inside a capitalist hellscape, a fogged-in microcosm that could only exist for a brief moment in time. Looking back, it feels less like an industry gathering and more like a mirageāan image suspended between pre-pandemic innocence and a looming collapse, a fleeting cash-grab that birthed a surreal and visual subcultural entity.
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Symptom of the Malaise
Symptom of the Malaise
Symptom of the Malaise, a zine from Sam Hutchinson documenting a 2020 Electronic Vape expo.Ā
Ā Resembling a dream sequence staged in a London conference centre, a corporate environment filled with clouds so dense they formed a kind of artificial weather system indoors: London Vape Expo took place in February 2020, just months before the Covid-19 forced the world into lockdown. It was less an industry expo than a performance of excess, where the act of inhaling and exhaling became the centrepiece of a strange, self-contained spectacle. All this unfolded just weeks before the pandemic would recast such gatherings as inconceivable, making the scene look even more absurd in hindsight.
Ā At the time, the world of vaping still felt strangely handcrafted and theatrical, more like a traveling sideshow than a consumer marketplace. Tables were cluttered with glass tanks, coils, and tools that resembled a jewellerās bench, while backdrops of graffiti fonts and neon signage made every exhibitor feel like a fragment of a subcultural dreamscape. At the time, vaping hadnāt yet been absorbed by the tidal wave of disposable products that dominated the landscape. Instead, it was a strangely insular and subcultural world, with its own rituals, language, and aesthetics that never fully broke into the mainstream. This underground community, half DIY hobbyists and half would-be futurists, existed for a fleeting moment between the rise of single-use convenience. Looking back, the vape at he time, and its culture feel like a surreal artefact of a very narrow window in historyāan object and obsession suspended between pre-pandemic innocence and the disposable culture that quickly eclipsed it. The absurdity isnāt just in the act itself but in how quickly it became a relic of a time that feels both recent and impossibly distant, the sculptural quality of temporary man-made clouds, and the fetishist quality of the objects making them.Ā
Ā The entire scene had the aura of a temporary world built inside a capitalist hellscape, a fogged-in microcosm that could only exist for a brief moment in time. Looking back, it feels less like an industry gathering and more like a mirageāan image suspended between pre-pandemic innocence and a looming collapse, a fleeting cash-grab that birthed a surreal and visual subcultural entity.
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Description
Symptom of the Malaise, a zine from Sam Hutchinson documenting a 2020 Electronic Vape expo.Ā
Ā Resembling a dream sequence staged in a London conference centre, a corporate environment filled with clouds so dense they formed a kind of artificial weather system indoors: London Vape Expo took place in February 2020, just months before the Covid-19 forced the world into lockdown. It was less an industry expo than a performance of excess, where the act of inhaling and exhaling became the centrepiece of a strange, self-contained spectacle. All this unfolded just weeks before the pandemic would recast such gatherings as inconceivable, making the scene look even more absurd in hindsight.
Ā At the time, the world of vaping still felt strangely handcrafted and theatrical, more like a traveling sideshow than a consumer marketplace. Tables were cluttered with glass tanks, coils, and tools that resembled a jewellerās bench, while backdrops of graffiti fonts and neon signage made every exhibitor feel like a fragment of a subcultural dreamscape. At the time, vaping hadnāt yet been absorbed by the tidal wave of disposable products that dominated the landscape. Instead, it was a strangely insular and subcultural world, with its own rituals, language, and aesthetics that never fully broke into the mainstream. This underground community, half DIY hobbyists and half would-be futurists, existed for a fleeting moment between the rise of single-use convenience. Looking back, the vape at he time, and its culture feel like a surreal artefact of a very narrow window in historyāan object and obsession suspended between pre-pandemic innocence and the disposable culture that quickly eclipsed it. The absurdity isnāt just in the act itself but in how quickly it became a relic of a time that feels both recent and impossibly distant, the sculptural quality of temporary man-made clouds, and the fetishist quality of the objects making them.Ā
Ā The entire scene had the aura of a temporary world built inside a capitalist hellscape, a fogged-in microcosm that could only exist for a brief moment in time. Looking back, it feels less like an industry gathering and more like a mirageāan image suspended between pre-pandemic innocence and a looming collapse, a fleeting cash-grab that birthed a surreal and visual subcultural entity.
