Freitag, 30. Dezember 2011
Sonntag, 20. November 2011
On steep Waves, Arie Amaya - Akkermans
On Steep Waves
“All
those who leave, always leave a little of themselves in you… Is
that then the secret of memory?” It is the
question asked by director Ferzan Özpetek
in his film “Facing windows” (2003) – What can we learn from
that question? Why is it that the memory is so important? Why would
the message, any message, would be completely lost without it? Hannah
Arendt wrote in 1929: “It is memory and not
expectation (the expectation of death as in Heidegger) which gives
unity and wholeness to human existence… Remembrance in man
discovers the two-fold before of human existence… This is the
reason why the return to one’s origin can at the same time be
understood as an anticipating reference to one’s end”.
The secret
of the memory is not revealed to us there but our voyage begins with
the question of the message –What is it? What is it that we do when
we speak? What happens when we live a little in order to die and die
a little in order to live? Words, images, thought… What are they?
Gifts of life? Gifts of death? Why are messages always, like letters
and postcards, delivered a little too late? Even the messages from
above and beyond come as belated greetings – for we are always
caught unprepared for death. Here you picture Ingeborg Bachmann’s
“Malina” as she
anxiously wrote letters and immediately thereafter disposed of them,
angry at the thought that they would never be delivered on the same
day. What is there in the delivery of a message? Is it the world?
What kind of
world is this in which messages, like philosophy and prophecy, can
never arrive on time? What kind of world is this in which we want to
live and speak, even be heard? Michael Cunningham brings this
question to life in his novel “The Hours”:
“Still, she
loves the world for being rude and indestructible, and she knows
others people must love it too, poor as well as rich, though no one
speaks specifically of the reasons. Why else do we struggle go to on
living, no matter how compromised, no matter how harmed? Even if
we’re further gone than Richard; even if we’re fleshless, blazing
with lesions, shitting in the sheets; still we want desperately to
live. It has to do with all this, she thinks”.
The same perplexity of Clarissa Vaughan, Cunningham’s fictional
persona is what stays when we realize all what time has left engraved
in us – the faces and the proper names.
But the
facts of the world remain as it is - we are harmed and transformed by
them. We need to withdraw not only in order to understand and
analyze, but also to create alternative versions with which we may be
able to live unmolested. That is how we transform the world into a
recollection of images, postcards and photographs – not even a
collection because collecting would imply that we are able to choose
the finest pieces and not as it is often the case, end up walled and
carpeted with advertisements, inebriated geographies and absurd
topologies in lieu of earthly experiences. Philosophy is the
recollection of world history, in the words of Hegel.
We leave the
comfort but also the immense responsibility of the home and begin
wandering in the world as if through an anonymous hotel, checking out
at our earliest convenience when the turbulence becomes uncomfortable
to handle; all what we have for a reminder of our life on earth is
the remainder of the post cards and photographs that we carry instead
of suitcases or passport. The postal system of world history in which
messages are exchanged not only across cities but also across the
most distant ages, between gods and philosophers, between writers and
heretics, between lovers and soldiers, between rulers and fallen
divinities; that postal system out of which we have derived religion,
literature, thought and the arts is a slow but necessary device to
protect our secrecy. If we were to have unmediated encounters with
the words and the loudly speaking facts of the worlds, we would be
burned down and torched so completely. Yet even in our intimate
cities of refuge there is little we can do to protect ourselves from
acts of hearing and speaking, either of the indirect kind (art) or
the direct kind (politics). King Solomon and Socrates have warned us
about the bear trap of knowledge, yet it is not only in reading and
writing that the memory is set free – the act of seeing itself
suggests as well the acceptance of what we are seeing as facts; there
is nowhere to run.
Reality and
language intersect in the postcard as a token of the broken memory,
as a fragment of something that in itself has no beginning and no
end, what is the gift then? To visualize the intersection it is
necessary to resort to more than reason and faith; we must learn to
see with the two eyes of Ibn al-‘Arabi - ذو
العين – doing
enough justice to transcendence-cum-immanence: Both the eternal
transience and the mortal worldliness of things. How lonely it is to
live or to write or to remember if the message is not delivered –
It is in the message, the postcard, the image, where the lens is
amplified and the word leaves the flesh to become one with the world.
The composer
Hans Werner Henze responded to Ingeborg Bachmann’s “Malina” and
her despair over the belated message of the letter by saying that
“I’m very touched by the richness, great
sadness and despair in your first symphony, which is in fact Mahler’s
eleventh”. How could one live with the fact
of having written an unwritten symphony? “Nothing
else will come” responded Ingeborg Bachmann
in a poem sent to Henze in 1968. Do such ends of history exist at
all? Do we cross invisible lines after which poetry and art can be no
more? It seems as if what happens is that fragments of the world show
such incredible resistance to being forgotten – unlike the world
itself that survives on a dynamic of oblivion and instinct.
To
understand the postcards and the messages from the past as forms
without a soul of its own deteriorates into what Ibrahim Kalin warns:
“It does not enable to find a home in a
world of homeless minds, uprooted traditions and soulless masse;
there must be something else that pushes the boundaries of the
archive into a telescope of mnemographies, act of delivering messages
across times and spaces – as though a Copernic voyage. The message
is more than the visible – why would we want to live if it is not
for facing windows? Peering into distant silent worlds? Into distant
worlds that remind us of the natural sounds of love and war? One can
conjure up images of Susan Sontag directing ‘Waiting for Godot’
during the siege of Sarajevo and jotting down the Bosnian text into
the English lines and memorizing a play in a language she doesn’t
know. Isn’t that hunger to deliver a message?
“Live
dangerously and you live right” in words of
the great Goethe. The intensity of the living is made manifest there:
There’s no insurance against life, it is impossible to live without
the risk, without the danger, without sinister panic and guilt. We
rather navigate in the open sea at the expense of a boat perhaps
sunken or drunken; it is always preferable to the eternal ennui of
Paradise – Adam and Eve followed commandments but did not remember
things! The postcard is not a vault but a telescope, we are allowed
to peer through only for a fraction of a second and we are not
permitted to keep anything. What we experience on the steep waves of
the ocean before shipwreck is that any attempt to communicate, to
deliver a message, is nothing but hunger for freedom – vertiginous
freedom. When Tim Hetherington shot his “Diary” in 2010, an
experimental film recording a decade of his photojournalism work
covering the most restless corners of the world, he was only offering
us a pornographic tour through the naked limbs of contemporary
history; little did he know then that after his death in February –
murdered by mortar shell fires fired by Gaddafi’s forces in Libya –
we would see now through his diary how desperate he was to live. And
so are we. That is why we fluctuate through oceans of disrupted
messages, seeking in our origin, our end – like Postcards.
By Arie Amaya –
Akkermans/ Dedicated to Maikel Nabil Sanad, political prisoner at El
Marg Prison – Egypt, since March 28th
2011
Samstag, 22. Oktober 2011
On steep waves/ Auf steiler Welle/ στην πλαγιά των κυμάτων - Station 1: Athen, ReMap 3, Leonidou 11, Kerameikos Metaxourgeio- 27/10 - 30 /10/2011
On steep waves/ Auf steiler Welle/ στην πλαγιά των κυμάτων
27/10 - 30 /10/2011
a postcard wandering exhibition
collected by Katherina Olschbaur
with a text by Arie Amaya - Akkermans
with:
anonymous artists from Bahrain, Nadja Athanassowa (A), Arie Amaya Akkermans, Eva Chytilek (A), Ida Marie Corell (D) Mara Diener (D), Haris Dumic (BA), Nilbar Güres (T), Michael Horsky (A), Michael Gorman (D), Benjamin Hirte (D, A) Christoph Holzeis (A), Ibi Ibrahim (Yemen), Verena Kamler (D), Nadja Kelm (UKR), Christian Kobald (A), Marie - Luise Lebschik (D), Giorgios Makkas (GR), Luiza Margan (HR), Jim Morrison (heaven), Robert Muntean (D), Ekaterina Shapiro - Obermair (A, RUS) , Panos Papadopoulos (GR), Lisl Ponger (A), Serge Poliakoff (UKR), Alfons Pressnitz (D), Bernhard Rappold (A) Anja Ronacher (A,UK) Inna Sawhorodnia (UKR), Tim Sharp (A), Michael Strasser (A), Deniz Soezen (CH, T, A), Prince Yussuf II, Jerusalem , Dorota Walentynowicz (PL) , Herwig Weiser (A), Linda Williams (UK)...
and many more
Friends, artists and people that I have met on journeys in the course of the last few years were invited to send me postcards to my temporary addresses, stations, in between Vienna and Athens. The message from another place, the place that is not present, or the person that is absent; that is the central theme of the exhibition. The title was chosen freely from a line of Arthur Rimbaud's 'Le Bateau Ivre (1871) in the German rendition of Paul Celan, out of which we are drawn to the image of the vessel in a turbulent sea as a metaphor for a journey with an open end, or for a permanent state of unrest.
"On steep waves/ Auf steiler Welle// στην πλαγιά των κυμάτων " relies at the same time on a very personal experience: solitude - and here poses the question if at this very junction of time it becomes political as well ? - upon awareness of one's loneliness, one is ready to receive a message, a message from far away, in times of utmost uncertainty.
"On steep waves/ Auf steiler Welle / στην πλαγιά των κυμάτων" is made as a wandering exhibition, with its first station in Athens, Kerameikos-Metaxourgeio, 27.- 30. October, 2011. The second station will be in Vienna on 16. of November 2011, a one evening show at the Fluc in Vienna, during the Vienna Art Week "Reflecting Realities"; other stations are still open and in planning. The exhibition will change and grow in the course of this journey. Unlike the idea of an archive, the exhibit is more like a collection, an open book of about 40 poems where each message is visible to the beholder and holds a singular importance on its own.
K. O.
Auf steiler Welle / στην πλαγιά των κυμάτων
27/10 - 30 /10/2011
Ζήτησα από φίλους, καλλιτέχνες και τυχαίους ανθρώπους που γνώρισα στα ταξίδια μου τα τελευταία χρόνια να μου στείλουν καρτ-ποστάλ στις προσωρινές διευθύνσεις μου, σταθμούς μου, μεταξύ Βιέννης και Αθήνας. Το μήνυμα είναι από το άλλο μέρος, το μέρος που δεν είναι παρών και ο αποστολέας είναι απών· αυτό είναι το κεντρικό θέμα της έκθεσης. Ο τίτλος επιλέχθηκε ελεύθερα από ένα στοίχο του ποιήματος του Αρθούρου Ρεμπώ Το Μεθυσμένο Καράβι (1871) από την γερμανική απόδοση του Paul Celan, που θα μπορούσε να μας δώσει την εικόνα ενός πλοίου στην ταραγμένη θάλασσα ως μια μεταφορά για ένα ταξίδι χωρίς προορισμό ή για μια μόνιμη κατάσταση αναταραχής.
Η έκθεση "Auf steiler Welle" ( ) στηρίζεται ταυτόχρονα στην προσωπική μου εμπειρία της μοναξιάς. Σε αυτό ακριβώς το σημείο θα μπορούσε να γίνει η υπόθεση οτι η έκθεση αγγίζει την πολιτική σε ένα ποιητικό επίπεδο· όταν το άτομο συνειδητοποιεί την μοναξιά του είναι έτοιμο να δεχτεί ένα μήνυμα, ένα μήνυμα από πολύ μακριά, σε περιόδους εξαιρετικής αβεβαιότητας.
Η "Auf steiler Welle" είναι φτιαγμένη ώστε να είναι μια περιπλανώμενη έκθεση, με πρώτο σταθμό τον Κεραμεικό της Αθήνας τον Οκτώβριο του 2011.
Ο δεύτερος σταθμός θα είναι στη Βιέννη στις 16 Νοεμβρίου 2011 μόνο για ένα βράδυ στο πολυχώρο Fluc, κατά τη διάρκεια της εβδομάδας Τέχνης της Βιέννης "Reflecting Realities" · οι επόμενοι σταθμοί είναι σε σχεδιασμό και ακόμα ανοικτοί.
Η έκθεση θα αλλάζει και να αναπτύσσεται κατά τη διάρκεια αυτού του ταξιδιού, σε αντίθεση με την λογική ενός αρχείου, και περισσότερο σαν μια συλλογή, ένα ανοικτό βιβλίο των 40 ποιημάτων, όπου κάθε μήνυμα είναι ορατό στον θεατή κατέχει την δική του μοναδική σημασία.
..
Leonidou 11, 5th floor apartment ( ReMap Point 14)
Kerameikos - Metaxourgeio, Athens, Greece
27/10 - 30 /10/2011
Opening: 27/10, 19.00
Opening hours of ReMap 3
Donnerstag, 20. Oktober 2011
Mittwoch, 19. Oktober 2011
On steep waves/ Auf steiler Welle/ στην πλαγιά των κυμάτ - Station 2: Wien, fluc Bar-16/11/2011-ab 21 Uhr in der Kubatur des Kabinetts-Vienna Art Week
fluc Vienna
www.fluc.at
Vienna Art Week 2011
Kubatur des Kabinetts
16. November 2011, 21 Uhr
Marlene Hausegger, female obsession, Sigfried Zaworka
Samstag, 24. September 2011
Freitag, 23. September 2011
Samstag, 10. September 2011
….from erewhon to here knows when….
Opening:
Saturday, September 10, 2011 at noon
mit
Franz Amann, Nadja Athanassowa, Sasha Auerbakh, Michael J. Baers, Rosa Barba, Nicolas Ceccaldi, Emanuel Danesch / David Rych, Christian Egger, Cerith Wyn Evans, Gregor Eldarb, Claire Fontaine, Seiichi Furuya, Nikolas Gambaroff, Manuela Gernedel, Manuel Gorkiewicz, Nikolas Gambaroff, Julia Haller, Nathan Hylden, Christoph Höschele, Bernd Krauß, Markus Krottendorfer, Michelle di Menna, Lone Haugaard Madsen, Birgit Megerle, Chiara Minchio, David Moises, Stefan Müller, Ulrike Müller, Karl Orton, Katherina Olschbaur, Mitzi Pederson, Georg Petermichl / Manfred Hubmann, Giorgi Piralishvili, Zak Prekop, Josephine Pryde, Isabella Schmidlehner, Ezara Spangl, Jelena Trivic, Cathrin Ulikowski, Jannis Varelas, Maja Vukoje, Johannes Vogl, Christoph Weber, Marnie Weber, Herwig Weiser, Alexander Wolff , curated by Christian Egger
Donnerstag, 8. September 2011
zur Ausstellung Schatten und Wirbel, 2011, Daniel Spoerri
Daniel Spoerri zu Katherina Olschbaur
Es ist nicht an mir, jetzt bedeutende kunsthistorische Prognosen und Interpretationen in die Bilder
von Katherina O. zu projizieren. Sie ist auch keine "Entdeckung", wie man so schön sagt.
Ich habe sie zufällig, erst vor kurzem bei einer Vernissage in Wien kennengelernt, und weil sie mir
von Bruno Schulz erzählte - einem jüdischen Künstler aus dem damaligen Polen, der jetzigen
Ukraine, der von der Gestapo auf der Straße erschossen wurde - und weil sie zu Schulz´Geburts-
ort und Todesort gereist war, um mehr über Ihn zu erfahren, wurde ich auf sie aufmerksam.
Bruno Schulz ist nämlich nicht nur ein feiner, nicht sehr bekannter Maler und Grafiker - seine
erstaunlichsten Werke sind Glasradierungen aus den Dreissiger Jahren, eine sehr schwierige
Technik, mit der er seine masochistischen Visionen ausleben konnte - er ist vor allem ein
bedeutender Dichter. Sein Hauptwerk "Die Zimtläden" gehört zu den Meisterwerken des
letzten Jahrhunderts, das ebenfalls vor dem zweiten Weltkrieg auch von manchen
Kollegen hoch geschätzt wurde, bis heute jedoch fast ein Geheimtipp blieb. Am selben Nach-
mittag, an dem ich Katherina O. kennen lernte, hatte vorher noch Bora Cosic mit mir über
Bruno Schulz gesprochen; ich war also besonders programmiert.
Vor allem ihre großformatigen Bilder, aber auch die kleinen, wie die zwei, die sie auf der
Einladungskarte zu dieser Ausstellung schon gesehen haben, erinnern mich an meine frühe Zeit
beim Theater und an Entwürfe für große Textil - Bühnenbilder. Sie gehen aber darüber hinaus,
und es ist der Zuschauer selbst, der darin spazieren gehen kann.
Wie ich schon eingangs gesagt sagte, auf die Bedeutung der Werke unserer jungen Künstlerin
will ich mich nicht einlassen. Ich freue mich vor allem über das zufällige Zusammentreffen
dieser beiden Ausstellungen. Auch bei Vera Mercer sind es Räume, in denen sie ihre präch-
tigen und barocken Natures mortes wörtlich: tote Naturen - inszeniert und beleuchtet. Kein
Wunder, denn ihr Vater war einer der bedeutendsten Bühnenbildner der Fünfziger
Jahre. Dort, im Bühnenbildatelier ihres Vaters im Schauspielhaus Darmstadt habe ich Vera 1958
getroffen.
getroffen.
Das Vera einen Motor in sich hatte, der sie immer weiter trieb, bis zu diesen großen Stillleben
heute, hätte ich damals nicht vorhersagen können. Ich dachte auch nicht über die Ursachen nach,
über die Urtriebe, die uns immer weiter suchen und probieren lassen.
Bei Katherina Olschbaur bin ich mir aber sicher, dass auch sie von diesem Motor angetrieben
wird, der sie nicht aufhören lassen wird, immer weiter zu machen und weiter zu malen. Wie
André Thomkins sich kurz vor seinem Tod in 36 Anagrammen das Diktum einhämmerte:
"weitermalen"
Nie malte wer mental wie er!
ei, wen malte er? Wien malte er.
Mal wienerte, mal weinte er.
D.S. 2011
Donnerstag, 30. Juni 2011
magazin vienna, 9.6. - 30.6.2011
magazin vienna
into deeper lands
at open sea
9.6.- 30.6. 2011
Anna Mitterer (Sonate, 2008, 6:07 min, 16mm/DVD)
Herwig Weiser (Entree, 1999, 8:48 min, super 8/16 mm/beta SP)
Christoph Brech (Punto, 2006, 10:09 min, loop)
Katherina Olschbaur ( Malerei, 2011)
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