A hush is not silence. It's what happens at a table when someone finally says the true thing, and everyone else stops talking. Nobody announces it.

We named ourselves after that.

We are a collective. Artists, and the people who care about what artists make.

We started in Berlin. Most of us came to Berlin from somewhere else, and some of us are still arriving.

So nothing here is fixed to a city. The table can travel. hush can travel. Everyone at this table came from somewhere, and the table can go back.

We were being looked at constantly and seen by nobody. So we stopped performing and sat down.

We think attention is the only currency we actually have, and that it should be spent, not harvested.

We think a table with no head is a political object.

We think nobody is too early in their practice.

We think every discipline counts. Sound, image, taste, word, and whatever comes next.

We think everyone who works gets paid, and we mean everyone.

No headliners. No bigger name on the poster. No guest list that means anything. No stage at the dinners; not now, not later.

We borrow before we buy. We use the same lights and the same chairs until they break. We would rather do four things properly than forty things loudly.

Right now, we make dinners. Exhibitions, screenings, listening sessions, readings; those are coming, in the order we can do them right. We say what exists and what doesn't yet. That is most of the difference between a collective and a brand.

We are not a feed. We are not a venue. We are not a scene.

We are the second before someone begins.

Bring nothing but yourself. Sooner or later, at one of the tables, someone will say something true and that table will go quiet.

That's the whole thing.