particles staging a friendly match (live report)

…and there is the blue one, being the first to spot the olive one, though she is not able to turn in her direction and keep her in sight. The moment she attemps that, she steps in the pink one’s way, which leads to identical reaction of the green and olive ones. The blue one, however, is not about to give up her discovery and releases the pink one who unites with the remaining couple in form of a gravity cluster. This doesn’t last too long and the initial try to make it to some symmetry turns back to chaos again. Reaching the final, at least one of the particles must stay in motion, or at least pretend that. The players in order of appearance: the green one – sterile and mechanical, the olive one – with a thought stranded on her lips, the blue one – conscious, the pink one – containing all. The surface does not necessarily have to match the interior as well as the rule stick to inflexibility.
system + rothko (dance)

beyond the rainbow

There’s a family, maybe on their way to jet off for a booked-in-advance pack of memorable moments.
There’s the little daughter in the lead, battling fatigue with excitement. Her mother and father do their best to stay in tow, taking turns in carrying their youngest daughter.
The problem is there is no gate 9 in front of them, no check-in counters behind them – there is just void space all over them.
Their eyes are fixed on a huge timetable which fails to get closer and which nobody but them can see.
There’s nothing to move away from, nothing to get closer to, just an invisible conveyor belt under their feet.
Surrounded by nothingness, the family doesn’t give up their hope of catching their flight.Hans Op de Beeck (video)

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hansopdebeeck

Woven land

There in front of us, lays an alley which has no road to border, however, it still evokes an old bypass with wrinkled side strips.
The imaginary road ascents a little, revealing no more landscape, so the feeling of standing at the foot of the end of the world is admittible.
The light coming out of a garage is woven out of fine thread – it pours in a grey landscape covered with plastic trees that cast…woven shadows.
Michael Raedecker

Ins and Outs (acrylic and thread on canvas)

Ins and Outs

Tate

virtu.all

space filled with quite a good quality darkness . the wings of a metal door come apart . something is emerging there . something flickering and unstable . something resembling a low-frequency pupet, still on the verge of vaporizing . still in the risk of electric breakdown

it is gaining shapes . it is gaining human shapes

there she is…a girl wearing a plain dress, a silver bob framing her face with expression, lacking chemistry of life

she seems to have no joints, and if so, they seem to revolve . she is a lifeless figure with precisely computed moves

her fingers move with a grace of a surgeon robot . her head suggests the flexibility of a very hard to afford android

music and lights cease at once…she collapses the way pupets do when you cut their strings off

hard to understand she is very likely made of flesh and bones

but there comes the shift

another being arises . seriously close to something very near to angelic entity . with the wings auctioned to raise funds for those not fully on board

no more strictly programmed perfection,
as it is replaced by the spiritually drawn perfection

maybe the spirit of something most of us could have become if we were able to wait for our tickets to arrive and desires to come true without being aware of waiting

Yoko Higashino – AntiGravity (dance)

The Museum of Uknown

Standing in a hall filled entirely with a copy of my own shadow. So identical, so impossible to tell it from the original. The copy is there to replace me. For my safety. For my good.

From “The Museum of the Uknown” formerly at Oxo Tower Bargehouse Street, London.

breast feeding

Staring at a pair of chocolate, roughly sculpted breasts sitting on a white board. Air hisses out of the nipples.
I’m advised to press my lips to them, as if they were a mouthpiece. The moment I do it I get a voice, which, instead of coming out of me, forces its way inside.

(acrylic paint on aluminium, kci air system) artist unknown

the cost of…

There’s a girl. An embroidered one, busy reducing the blue in her eyes. Rays and rays of blue cotton thread come out; she acts as if stringing a guitar, tightening the thread, rolling it round her palm. The thread leaves her eyes, leaves the frame defining her 2D self, there is less and less of her, soon she will be with us, enjoying the extra dimension…alas acquiring a form of a thread ball.

Clare Heathcote ( thread on line)

crowd

Quite a lot of people, enough to call them a crowd – they’re all projected onto an A4 plastic tablet. Watching them makes one feel like observing a microculture busy getting on with life – a pulsing matrix of grainy and liquid existence. There are several holes in the tablets – plug holes. The crowd flows off, individuals released one at a time, materialising in the darkness under the tablet.

Sarah Jones – A countenance (instalation)

slotted in

In a park. Three lamps illuminating four paths – four concurrent lines in a green field intersecting somewhere outside infinity. There are people walking, clinging hard to those lines. Despite each of them maintaining a fair level of uniqueness, there is an overall impression of the people fitting into a sort of a slot. Passing the lamps, they obey the rules of organised chaos – different speed, different directions, different expectations – but the slot driving them unites them all. The light keeps fading, gradually wiping out the paths, desaturating the green field, when it is just the lamps remaining. Now, the lamps are a bit reluctant to admit the existence of anything else. Nothing, but lamps. Nothingness.

Nick Stewart

(video)

Erszy Kiss

The usual thing about lyrics is that they need to say something memorable, such as “love is nothing but a rolling cherry” or “dogs will never let you down”.

The unusual thing about Erszy Kiss is that the lyrics carry no moral at all, they work as an instrument. Along with the band, she “plays” those words so convincingly you might feel they used to belong to a long lost culture that has just been melt out of ice. Such a way attracts a lot of freedom; it blindfolds you, spins you around, stops you, takes the scarf off, and it is just entirely up to you to name that landscape surrounding you. There’s a track that makes you feel somehow African, while another one brings you straight to what you think New Orleans might have sounded like back in the twenties or simply wherever you feel like.

Kiss Erszi Music

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