Tischgesellschaft Paersche, Cologne

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Danke! Thank you!

Herzlichen Dank an alle die mitgeholfen haben dass diese Veranstaltung zu einem großen Erfolg wurde. Dank an alle Mitarbeiter, den Künstlern und natürlich den Bloggern, die auf dieser Seite ihre Impressionen gepostet haben. Grüße nach Manchester zu unserem Spiegelprojekt und herzliche Grüße an unsere Freunde „PAersche“ aus Köln die live von ihrer Tischgesellschaft  Exchange Radical Moments! aus ihrer Sicht kommentierten.

Have many thanks to all who helped that this event was a huge success. Thanks to all the staff, the artists and of course the bloggers who have posted their impressions on this page. Greetings to Manchester to our mirror project and warm greetings to our friends „PAersche“ and the “ELF” fromColognewho reported live on Exchange Radical Moments! from their perspective.

11 11 11 How do you remember In Remembrance?

11 hours later, 11 artists later, 11 performances later…and 11 11 11 has died down but only for an hour- the wake starts at 11pm!

From 11pm till 2am come and join us at Platt Chapel for In Loving Memory. How do you document 11 hours of living art?  What do we the documenters remember?  Come to Platt Chapel for our wake a celebration of what we have just lived.  Hear the sounds, see what we saw read what we felt.  No matter whether you were here in the day – at 11pm we all remember together.

We felt the warm blood

The branches on our head

Visited the dead in their graveyard beds

Felt the four hooks pierce our skin

Played with leaves

Sprinkled powder from the blue plastic bag

Come on Eileen

Take a last gasp

Wearing our mums clothes

Blasting out the soundscape of our nightmares

Hear the final whistle blow.

Michael Mayhew gave the final toast.

 

See you at 11pm!

Martin O’Brien & Mark Greenwood

Martin O’Brien, Dragons Breathe Fire_Come and witness his total burial mate

Mark Greenwood, White Mum_smoking a cigar_speaking on a mic_your children will be next

 


Halb elf

Die Idee „The Eye Walk“ gefällt mir. Ich stelle mir die Situation des Performers und seines Gastes so vor, wie die Konstellation von Lehrer/Meister und Schüler im fortgeschrittenen Zustand, in dem schon Gleichbereichtigung
herrscht. Der Lehrer hat auch keine andere Aufgabe, als mit dem Schüler
gemeinsame Spaziergänge zu machen und bei Gelegenheit aufzuzeigen, was in
seiner Betrachtung, in seinem Wahrnehmen eine Bedeutung erlangt hat. Nicht
sprechen, nur zeigen. Hinweisen. Die Ähnlichkeit beschwören ohne das Kennen
des Originals. Dem lautlosen „Echo des Originals“ einen Resonanzraum geben.
Eine schöne Absicht. Es ist halb elf. Zeit zum Schlafen. Gute Nacht wünscht Euch: Euer Halbelf aus Kölle!

KunstRaum Goethestrasse xtd

some impressions from KunstRaum Goethestrasse xtd at Linz

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Tanzt, tanzt, sonst sind wir verloren.

Berlin’s central station is an armored metaphor, the embodiment of our paranoid 21th century society, in which anxiety, information and control blend into an amalgam of surveillance instruments. Everything is electronically operated, every colorful feel-good commercial is backed by a camera lens. Welcome to our century, Foucault.

At least 100 surveillance cameras – it is likely that there are more – capture every visitor entering the massive halls of glass and steel. Day after day, security guards will see motionless faces pass through the gangways, escalators, and platforms. They will see people rushing, hustling, running and chasing – time is running, after all – to get to their trains before they leave them incarcerated at the station. Most people, don’t notice, but they are on camera, every second of every day, turning them into an absurd object of art, comparable with ants in an oversized terrarium.

And all of a sudden, time stops.

As he walks up to her, the fire in his eyes lightens up. His arm around her waist, holding and turning her as she swirls around him, effortless like a feather in the air. They connect, they merge, turn into one to the rhythm of an Argentinean Tango. People stand, stop and stare as the couple moves around the masses of metal and glass.

As the music fades, everything is over. Back to reality, back to Panopticon. Back being an object of art. Waiting for the next performance, for the next daydream in this freezing winter night.