November 21 & 22, 2020 at the Volkskundemuseum, in the frame of Wien Modern and brut Wien.
And us the emulsive f/actors, the whips that whip the cream, an ‘undomesticated menagerie’ (wrongly quoted Mark Foster Gage) of inheritances, installed inside each other’s presences, chewing and tuning frequencies in and out of our every days.
Paul Kotal, Ujjwal Utkarsh, Mirhet Kebede, Quim Pujol, Lydia Mcglinchey, Mark Lorimer, Han-Gyeol Lie, Sabina Holzer, Frida Robles, Samuel Feldhandler, Elizabeth Ward, Alix Eynaudi, Eva Holzinger. Paula Caspão, Soeyon Park, Cécile Tonizzo, Tom Pauwels and An Breugelmans too, our winds from afar.
A meditation on entering an a-chronological abyss, prophetically practiced. This abyss is not an abyss that goes down -neither a horror movie, we love horror movies- rather one that swirls and twirls and turns itself inside out, making friends with everything it thinks about, an abyss of meteorologies where even the notion of altocumulus is a thought that can be slid under the skin. The shores of a book lets droplets swing by, humidity in-fusing the naked fruits and finger pulps. Adore, adorn someone else’s work. Choose to look at copying as a throw, one that sings you a little closer to the air, a moisture leaving your skin, cloudlessly dissipating injustice for vaguely is wavily in french, bringing us to the shore once again. Mesh of friendships scintillating under skins, a stirring of wonder-ful support. Sporting-joints echoing lecture-raps, rapsodies of foils, folle, foule. assemblies, oscillations, laborating and liberating the texture of the day together ensemble, re-assembling, at the window.