L'œil ouvert sur la noirceur, 2015, performance, PPP, at Teatro Marinoni, Venice. Courtesy of the artist.

L’œil ouvert sur la noirceur, 2015, performance, PPP, at Teatro Marinoni, Venice. Courtesy of the artist.

L’Homme Face à la Nuit Reconnaît son Incomplétude is the new edition work by artist Cristiana Palandri, presented and launched in preview at The Art Markets; the project combines music, drawing and art printing. Working both as a visual artist and as a musician, behind the alias of Yokokono, in this interview the artist has discussed her multi-disciplinary work, as well as her interests and references. The discussion touches some of her most important older and recent works, revealing the development of her practice during these years.

Let’s begin with your latest performance, which was part of the series of events in the project PPP at Teatro Marinoni in Venice, during the Biennale in May. What was the project and how did it go?

L’œil ouvert sur la noirceur was both a sound and installation performance. It was the first time that I wanted and tried to put together these aspects of my practice, which I have been working on for long, but that had remained in separate sectors. In this case I was inside a structure, shaped like two small sharp summits covered with a dark curtain, from where I played with another musician. The production of the sound was made with the instruments that I usually employ – computer and synthesizers – and in part based on pre-registered and improvised tracks. All the lights in the theatre were off, as if I wanted to annul the space, so there was not a lot that was visible, only the sound. However, after about twenty minutes, I switched on a light from the inside of the structure and given the semi-transparency of the fabric you could see the figures playing against the light, and the articulation of the structure it-self. Obviously, the light influenced the sound.

In respect to other performances that I did in Berlin and Florence in past years, this time it was a bit different, but the parameters of the work remain the same ones: noise, drone and concrete music playing in a nocturnal situation where unexpectedly the space lights up. The sounds are in part natural, truly resembling a natural habitat, and in part are primordial sounds, that give the acoustic impression related to a creation, to a genesis – perhaps is better to say. Also the coordination of the action is more or less the same as what I have always worked on: to try to create an environment in this theatre, being this the primary reason for me to almost “annulling” it switching off all lights. I wanted to modify the structure in the location through the action.

As a performer you use your the alias Yokokono, whereas as visual artist you work with your own name. These two “persons” are obviously both part of you and are getting closer lately. Has something changed in their interaction?

Until very recently, I have always tried to separate these two aspects, although they are integrated in my daily life. Now, with maintaining both names, it is more spontaneous for me to merge sound in my other performances; in the future, maybe even in other works, making hybrid forms that were once going on two separate channels, although only for the public and not in myself.

Reverse, 2010, performance, Fondazione Merz, Turin. Courtesy of the artist.

Reverse, 2010, performance, Fondazione Merz, Turin. Courtesy of the artist.


Ἀνερρίφθω κύβος, 2012, performance, Museo Marino Marini, Firenze. Courtesy of the artist.

Ἀνερρίφθω κύβος, 2012, performance, Museo Marino Marini, Firenze. Courtesy of the artist.

You have spanned very much in your artistic production: drawing, installation, sculpture, photography, performance, script writing, sound. We could say you are an eclectic or – as we say today – an interdisciplinary and multimedia artist. I’d like to say that you work is complete, almost scenic, in the sense that it comprehends a multiplicity of languages that concern the same narration.

I think my work has become more lyric and poetic. It used to be related to something uncanny, but in the last two or three years I have recovered this lyric and dreamlike side, that has always been there, but that I have never revealed so clearly in the work. For example, the idea of Cosmogonie was born, quite banally, in Berlin in a moment when I could not see the sky, which corresponded to a sort of isolation that I have lived in that period in that city. It was a drive to find something more lyrical, I think. I am interested in working on an aspect that has to do with what is nocturnal and the possibility to imagine and represent a constellation or the outer Space, which is to me the most mysterious thing. From this I have made Farmacon firstly and the series Cosmogonie and the rest of the recent works, from the performances to my drawings.

Although I believe I understand what you mean, I do not completely approve the term “scenic.” I can intend it not with reference to something theatrical, but I share the term only as a metaphor of what I do: creating an atmosphere, creating a world, with its landscapes, its particularities and its branches, from sound to drawing, never anyhow with a theatrical presentation, yet as enactment of visibility, of positioning oneself in first person.

In one of your last series of drawings, you were inspired by a passage of Toilers of the Sea by Victor Hugo, integrating words into the drawings. The making of these pieces is similar to that of the series Cosmogonie, yet here there is also a written part, how did this need come about?

In this case it was a fortuitous encounter, thanks to the discovery of this writing, that I found particularly interesting as a mirror not on my work but on certain aspects of what I try to include into my work. Taking certain quoting that I considered more significant, I thought about making some drawings on and from some extracts of this text – it really was a natural step. I am accustomed to treat writing as drawing; since my first series Untitled I have used words, although in a different way. Not as in this case, the words reflected what I was thinking in the act of drawing and were treated as drawing, whereas in the new series the words are not mine but are borrowed from another author. In part, the words are drawn and in part simply copied, so they do not go with the flow of the drawing. This is the biggest difference in respect to how I used words in my work before.

Oversight, 2008, performance, MLAC, Rome. Courtesy of the artist.

Oversight, 2008, performance, MLAC, Rome. Courtesy of the artist.

In some of your performances your physical presence is very strong and guides the performative act (I am thinking about U.O. and Oversight, for example) and in other more recent ones instead you disappear and hide yourself!

I believe they are all very consequential steps. In the oldest performance Oversight the idea was to reveal my sculptural practice, although not literally. For this piece, I have built a sculpture with the body of another person, enacting the whole thing, although the idea at the base was still to reveal myself, to lay bare the my way of working with sculpture. The step after was U.O. (i.e. Unidentified Object), because I went from showing my sculptural act to gradually become a sculture myself. In the performance, starting from my feet, I bound and annexed some objects to my body, some of which I found around in the city of Bangkok (where I was doing the performance) and some other objects that I used commonly in my work. After I had tied up my body with enough objects, I disappeared underneath them; but in addition to this I was also interested in the fact that it was the sculpture itself that was determining the end of the performance, i.e. when I was not able to continue to fasten more objects, because it became impossible to move. It was a way to say that sculpture had its own autonomy in the construction, reflecting certain processes that I try to put in action and develop in my artistic research. This idea persists also in drawing when the drawing starts to draw itself, not as an automatism, but according to a kind of “controlled out-of-control,” where I do not decide the shape and I don’t want to make planned relation between one line and the other.

And at the end, from my point of view, it goes directly to the autonomy of the performance itself, where I am not there anymore: I perform, but only from within the sculture. More or less, all my performance work has to do with sculpture and the research of its limits and its possibilities. From that on, I have started to understand how a sculpture could be changed by an action and become an extension of the space, coming to be then environment.

U.O., 2009, performance, BACC, Bangkok. Courtesy of the artist.

U.O., 2009, performance, BACC, Bangkok. Courtesy of the artist.


U.O., 2009, performance, BACC, Bangkok. Courtesy of the artist.

U.O., 2009, performance, BACC, Bangkok. Courtesy of the artist.

Is this project of the edition – which you are presenting at The Art Markets Book Store – another effort of trespassing between music and drawing?

It is a very small edition project of 50 pieces, that I titled L’Homme Face à la Nuit Reconnaît son Incomplétude, where I wanted to combine a soundtrack of mine recorded on CD, with a monotype xylography, which has this kind of abstract zoomorphic shape made with silver enamel and ink on dark paper. The point of the project is to parallel minimal music with printing and art graphics. In fact, I find there is a relation between these two languages: in minimal music, the repetition significantly changes with respect to the development of the bar, and in art prints the monotype maintains a constant, but it slightly differs it-self from one print to the other. As I have worked in both directions, I thought about putting them on the same level in one project which includes both, with no intent of being descriptive – although it may happen anyways. I wanted to make them coexist as one work.

What other projects are you working on at the moment?

In September I will take part of a show in Turin that comprehends artists that are related with the work of Carol Rama – I think to his figure and character more then anything else. It will be organised into some small double exhibitions in various venues in the city. And then, about in the same period, I will release Adieu, a tape of 5 tacks for the Dutch label Søvn. The most interesting thing of this release is that the label works with a musician and an artist for the packaging. In my case, as I do both, I will develop the whole project myself.

L'homme face à la nuit reconnaît son incomplétude, xylographie , CD, Courtesy of the artist.

L’homme face à la nuit reconnaît son incomplétude, xylographie, CD, Courtesy of the artist.

Cristiana Palandri YokoKono Sovnrecords

Centers in Pain installation view. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

Centers in Pain installation view. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

Brooklyn-based artist Jasper Spicero presents Centers in Pain at New Galerie in Paris. ‘Centers in Pain’ is a project that originally took place in a minimum security jail in Portland, Oregon. Following its completion in 2004, the prison was abandoned and maintenance personnel was reduced due to lack of operational funds. A 10-ton structure that crushed one of the prison corridors and that is gradually destroying the sewage system connected to the nearest water reservoir depicted a ‘center in pain’. Now used on occasions as a film set, Spicero rented the facility for four days although it remained inaccesible to the general public. The project was later translated to a website, a video work, a script and sculptural objects.

Centers in Pain installation view. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

Centers in Pain installation view. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris


Centers in Pain, detail. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

Centers in Pain, detail. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

The tagline to the project “in every patient a center in pain” draws a parallelism between institutional architecture and individuals who are subjected to the power of such institutions. In the three rooms at New Galerie we encounter visible signs of passing, such as distressed clothing and furniture. At times resembling a film set, the objects are arranged to look like detention facilities or mental insitutions with the room upstairs organised as a canteen or a common area of sorts and the two rooms downstairs as sleeping quarters. The sculptural objects made up of daycare furniture, hand sewn fabric, tape recorders and digital prints and their organisation within the space, construct a singular narrative, creating one shared environment that presents institutionality as an entity that exerts the same power in all institutional contexts. Despite the fact that the work can be given a Foucauldian reading, Spicero’s research seems more interested in how one constructs the real by means of various interconnected media and evocation through organisations that function as constructed scenographies.

S.M.A.R.T. Picture frame purple, 2014. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

S.M.A.R.T. Picture frame purple, 2014. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

The use of different media, namely video, sculpture, scripts and other textual elements create a multi-layered networked environment that bypasses the singularity of the objects, guiding the viewer towards an immersive experience that relies heavily on spatial and temporal variables. The work exists within a doubled dynamic of activity and non-activity that is not triggered by human interaction but rather, is conditioned by other factors such as the institutional character of the space, limited accesibility and the narrative density and organisation of all the elements. Spicero manages to create a tension that one could perhaps define as active staticity, a tension created through moments of non-activity in the space and the static relationship between the sculptural objects. It is primarily a narrative technique derived from survival horror video games and that is built on spatial intervention and temporal longevity. The use of such techniques sheds light on Spicero’s main enquiry, namely, recreating a fictive universe that is dense enough to be experienced as real.

Centers in Pain installation view. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

Centers in Pain installation view. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

Centers In Pain video system. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

Centers In Pain video system. Courtesy of the artist and New Galerie, Paris

The show at New Galerie functions primarily as an archivization of this project. The viewer is presented with a perfectly functioning shell that is reminscent of film set memorabilia. It does not disclose new information, but through a reorganisation of all the elements, it inscribes yet another layer to an already dense and populated narrative.

Spicero was born in 1990 in Yankton, USA. He currently lives and works in Brooklyn, USA.

Centers in Pain on view at New Galerie through July 11.

Jasper Spicero Centers in Pain New Galerie

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Photo: Niels Fabaek. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Photo: Niels Fabaek. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Mikkel Carl is a Danish artist based in Copenhagen. He has recently opened We Are All Workers, a solo show at Kunsthal NORD in Aalborg, Denmark. In this interview, I have discussed with Mikkel Carl several works that are included in the show – with the help of the photographic reference – along with other issues regarding his practice and some post-technological aesthetical impressions.

I would like to start our discussion with the installation of the work We Are All Workers, which also gives the title to the exhibition at the Kunsthal NORD. The slogan is taken from a LEVI’S campaign, however, seeing it installed in the entrance hall of Nordkraft, it also recalls the image of some kind of workers union statement from the beginning of the past century.

In 1853 Levi Strauss launched denim as tough work wear for miners, farmers and, well, cowboys I suppose (in Denmark we still call jeans ‘cowboy pants’) marking the transition from an agrarian to an industrial age. And now having leaped into the era of (digitalized) information, people still wear them, as much as they ever did. Stripping the statement WE ARE ALL WORKERS off its elaborate “worn out” typeface used in the advertisements, and placing it on the facade of Kedelhallen (the room used to house enormous kettles when the building was a power plant) I aim at several issues, that are (re)surfacing as a consequence of the transformation from an industrial town to an information and education culture, which the town of Aalborg – along with so many other places in the Western World – is undergoing these years; something, which the 30,000 m2 cultural centre, where Kunsthal NORD is located, is itself a significant expression of.

This includes a radical alteration of the notion of ‘work’. “8 hours of work, 8 hours of leisure, and 8 hours of rest” was a legendary slogan launched by the Danish Social Democratic Party in 1904. A battle won long ago and once and for all, or so we thought. Do you know anyone who works only 8 hours a day, including posting latest achievements on a variety of social media?

A thing is a hole in the thing it is not, 2015 (2012), Kunsthal NORD. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

A thing is a hole in the thing it is not, 2015 (2012), Kunsthal NORD. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.


You are right! Maybe, it is because this ‘radical alteration’ of the notion of work has kind of blurred its limits. In this exhibition, you have literally broken through the separation between the exhibition space and other working spaces of the museum with A thing is a hole in the thing it is not.

No I haven’t! If you look at the caption of the work it lists a number of building materials along with “doorway in partition wall”. So what I have done is blinding the existing walls where there were already – due to the space’s previous function as a power plant or made as part of its transformation into an art institution – large passages leading onto the next room. Only then did I punch some big holes breaking through to “the other side”: the exhibition space furnished in a director’s office. Something similar goes for the “storage.” Between the two exhibition spaces there was a strange half wall just asking for me to put in a large window and a door. And you know what, the greatest moment of installing this show was when we were putting all the tools, bubble wrap, and left-over materials “back” in “storage”, not only tiding up the place but actually making a new work while we were at it. As you can see it’s not a matter of exposing something hidden nor is it pure theatrics; a simulacrum. The director and his assistant might have to look very much like they’re writing emails and working on the catalogue, but in fact they are writing those emails and that text for the catalogue – right there in front of the audience.

If not a simulacrum, is it still a kind of conceptual performative act?

I know this word has long since been buried alongside postmodernism, and perhaps I didn’t make myself quite clear. Simulation is the imitation of the operation of a real-world process or system over time whereas simulacra are copies that depict things that either had no original to begin with, or that no longer have an original. Or to use the words of Baudrillard himself: “The simulacrum is never that which conceals the truth— it is the truth, which conceals that there is none.”

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.


Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

What about the other installations? Factory Windows are Always Broken seems less “performative”.

It may sound odd, but it was only once the show was up that I realized that a lot of the works fall within what we might call the simulation–simulacrum continuum, using but also staging the use of illusion on several levels: an endlessly rotating power drill stuck in the wall – (Made in China), 2009-2015; a fluorescent light tube has “fallen down” turning into a circular one – Halo, 2015 (2012); folded (an unfolded) pieces of A4 paper (actually they are spray-painted sheets of aluminium) tossed here and there – Good Ideas are Bad Ideas, 2015; smoke coming out of what appears to be the building’s ventilation system, but is in fact a huge galvanized pipe that I put up connecting it to a smoke machine set on a timer – The sea is not cruel, the clouds do not choke the sky, information does not want to be free, 2015; ten ”abstract paintings” consisting of stretched 2nd hand moving blankets collected from various commercial galleries, public art institutions and artist run spaces, where they have been wrapped around now absent art objects – Impression, 2015; cracked windows, and also what appears to be a bullet hole(!) made by using transparent adhesive stickers.

I have perhaps a silly question on this last work you mentioned: why not just actually break the windows of the museum in Factory Windows are Always Broken, 2015?

Breaking all the windows in an art institution is really not a bad idea; it’s just a different work entirely. What I’m interested in is not so much the (violent) act itself, but rather the space between either/or and neither/nor. Like in the case of the aluminium blobs on the staircase, which instead of minimalist grandstanding/post-minimal territorial pissing is perhaps more of a Richard Serra 2.0. The confrontational battle between artist and institution (the historical avant-garde and to some extent the neo avant-garde) shifted the ground in favour of the latter. And the Pyrrhic victory of relational aesthetics in the 90s eventually turned museums into blockbuster centres of infotainment and beacons of the so-called experience economy. To me, an artistic strategy plotting these two approaches, which led to the current fait accompli, against each other seems one viable option. I call it ‘negative affirmation’ as opposed to ‘affirmative negation’.

Factory Windows are Always Broken, 2015 (detail), Kunsthall NORD. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Factory Windows are Always Broken, 2015 (detail), Kunsthall NORD. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Then, what about the titles of your works?

The caption is one place for concept and materiality to come together. The title itself helps the viewers understand in what direction the artist has intended his associative flight of thought to go, both clarifying and further staging the physical objects. This has been the case since Duchamp (I always get really frustrated when a student claims: “The work has no title” and I have to explain that this is simply not an option and that Untitled is the most heavily invested in title there is.).

Every time I come across a word or a small combination of these that somehow seem interesting to me, I write it down. And it’s only when I manage to combine the physical object I’m producing with such words, that the work becomes a work. As a logical consequence the listing of materials has also become an essential tool in this narration. In a work called Glorious Bastard, 2013, I made a glory hole in a double bed that has the most peculiar design. A partition wall makes it into a horizontal bunk, not saving any room, but perhaps producing some arousing alienation from whoever you share the bed with. In this case I believe it to be essential that the checklist says “Donald Judd double bed” rather than “bed” or “wood and foam” even. Sometimes – it could be years later – I realize that a work has been given a title that isn’t quite right, so I try to rename it.

Lacan is ”not”, 2015 (2013) (detail), We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Photo: Niels Fabaek. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Lacan is ”not”, 2015 (2013) (detail), We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Photo: Niels Fabaek. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.


It seems to me that in a lot of the works from the exhibition We Are All Workers, as well as in some previous works, there is a post-technological – perhaps post-informational – sense of decline or even ruin, yet at the same time a strong aestheticization of these objects. I was wondering how you feel these two (apparently) opposite aspects can be associated?

When referring to a break not just from the virtues of the industrial revolution – primarily the teleological understanding of history called ‘progress’ – but even going beyond our society of information (where this strictly linearly sense of time still lingers on), I take it you are referring mainly to my anodized Apple PowerBook G4 Titanium laptops; state of the art technological hardware used to fuel almost every aspect of the experience economy and now only a decade later they are back in a show room hovering on glass pedestals – customized ad absurdum and utterly useless. Even though my reason for picking this exact model had to do with the anodizing process (the 2004 PowerBook is the only one built in titanium) and even though our look upon these objects will of course soon change, I really like that the computers are not brand new (because even if they were, it wouldn’t be for long) yet they are not vintage either. They are just a little too old.

It’s a great misunderstanding that information society (as we used to call it before the Internet kicked in) is a post-industrial one. It’s not all clouds and swipes. All the stuff we purchase online is just being produced and shipped from places we have never heard of. Apple has been among the first to acknowledge this fact by (ironically?) labelling their products: Designed in California. Actually, I’ve had a bit of a hard time connecting the anodized titanium paintings – the readymade aspect of the computers did help – to my general practice, at least beyond the obvious fact that I’m interested in paintings as installational and discursive objects, and therefore tend to produce them without the use of paint. So, I’m rather grateful that you have pointed out this dimension of Ruinenwert (ruin value).

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Photo: Niels Fabaek. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Photo: Niels Fabaek. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Finally, I would like to know what other projects you are working on and exhibitions you have coming up?

I have sort of a solo exhibition opening in a couple of weeks and since I last answered this question its title has changed from Hard Candy to This ain’t no abstract painting, I just wanted to fuck you. The paintings are made squeezing acrylic paint and water through the type of carpet you normally cover the floor with to protect it when painting the walls. It’s a kind of felt made from old yarn covered with transparent plastic on the backside preventing the absorbed paint from seeping through. Applied to odd sized custom made stretchers it looks like leftover pieces of marble (think Sam Moyer paintings gone wrong). I’ve conceived these paintings to fit various positions within our house – primarily the dining room and living room – much like when a gallery presents works in an office/showroom setting, arranging them alongside nice furniture to make it easier for the potential buyer to picture the work @home.

I also have a solo show at Formic, which is a small exhibition space in Copenhagen run by Danish artist David Stjernholm. Since, it’s mainly for ants (a 25x15x15 cm glass cube placed between an actual ant farm and the arena where they pick up water and food), I’m going to treat them to the cut off and slightly decomposed ear from Blue Velvet – recreated in marzipan.

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Installation view, We Are All Workers, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.


Copenhagen Eats Shit, 2014, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

Copenhagen Eats Shit, 2014, Kunsthal NORD, 2015. Courtesy of the artist & LAST RESORT.

We Are All Workers on view at Kunsthal NORD through June 21.

Mikkel Carl Kunsthal NORD

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

Scanned from the outermost reaches of the gallery space, Jocelyn Villemont’s solo exhibition Material Dreams at Chez Valentin, seems to blur the boundaries between a private cosmology and universal imagery, studied through the appropriation of domestic gadgets and antiseptic aesthetics. In the sterile brightness of the room I find myself confronted with familiar, banal objects: the commodities on display and their texture seem simultaneously highly artificial, yet I recognise their shapes and symbols, and my dependence vis-à-vis to them.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

With a closer look, the works on display reveal to delve into the proliferation of scattered images and the exhaustion with visual stimuli, their constant renaissance and recycling. This approach is closely linked to Villemont’s method: in his creative practice he uses quick execution processes, such as transfer, sticking, flocking, printing and sketching. In the gallery space, I can hear the steady hum of a washing machine, occupying the center of the floor: this work, entitled Nightstand (2015) suggests an ongoing, definite movement in the otherwise still atmosphere, proposing a study on the (re)cycle of images. The machine is surrounded by transparent, thus accessible surfaces, yet their horizontal stretches and positioning leaves a plastic, distant feeling.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

This installation is surrounded by a continuum of limpid forms and objects, allowing to get deeper in my quest for re-establishing the original experience and connection with images. On the left side of Nightstand, a series of detergent bottles, entitled Self-branded detergent (2015), can be found. I recognise their forms and subsequently their meaning: however, they are deprived of all-encompassing branding, when their white plastic surface is decorated with something reminiscent of DIY badges.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

The gallery space is enclosed by a series entitled Sleeping disorder dating from 2015: these pillows with fresh shades form a composition that rhythms the white gallery walls. Sleeping disorder proposes flat vortex images and symbols of common care, which I’m able to decode thanks to the mental guide in my mind. While these whirlpool images stand for a movement, stretch and twist, their linearity, energy and mass are flattened on fabrics, whose texture seems somehow to absorb the images. Next to these printed vertical flows, I can find rectangular shapes with images on detergents and linguistic symbols. When I continue to move my gaze on the gallery walls, I end up observing my distorted profile: this series entitled Masticated reality (2015), made of film mirror and chewing gum on dibond, unfolds the mood of distrust related to our cognitive sight, when facing the never-ending flow of images.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

Villemont’s exhibition reveals to be a study on spatial and visual encoding, where personal zone and time interweaves with black holes. The established boundaries cease to exist within the white confines of the space: what to make of all the images and their constant production? Do they fade away gradually, or rather, do they form symbolic charts in our minds, thus ending up lingering in the imaginary beyond? Plain forms and colours seem to be sufficient for us to contextualise, yet we get confused, when all of a sudden the familiar 360 degree branding is missing. Material Dreams is about discerning the symbols we think as our narrative, both in public and private consciousness.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

Photo : Sylvie Chan-Liat. Courtesy of the artist and gallery Chez Valentin, Paris.

Jocelyn Villemont is a French artist and curator, born in 1986. He lives and works in Thorigny sur Marne, and is part of the artist duo It’s Our Playground together with Camille Le Houezec.

Material Dreams on view at Chez Valentin through June 20.

Joey Villemont It’s Our Playground Chez Valentin

“new RELEASES”, collaboration with Max Ronnersjö, Sandy Brown / off-location, Berlin, 2014. Photo: Sascha Karilampi.

Ilja Karilampi is a Swedish visual artist currently living and working between Berlin and Gothenburg. Through his variegated practice, Karilampi explores different social and cultural phenomena, mirroring them simultaneously against his personal background and childhood memories. We set up a Skype-supported exchange between Berlin and Paris, and he told me about his past hoods, current tempo and upcoming projects.

How did you discover art and creative practice? Did it have something to do with having access to video recorder as a teenager?

I come from a creative family, so I was surrounded by arts since my early childhood. Mentioning a video recorder is a pretty spot-on observation, I actually started using one when I was thirteen our fourteen. At the same age when I started exploring my hoods through the lens of a video camera, I found the local graffiti scene. This context was pretty influential, the urban context where I grew up provided a lot of inspiration and possibilities to do graffiti; there was a lot of old trams and so on… Moreover, the people in that scene were super interesting: not only hip hoppers, but I got to know a lot of people with different backgrounds, I mean, some really weird guys as well. I learned by asking a lot questions to them, which was a really positive experience. Later I started my studies in arts at Gothenburg’s Konstskola.

“Faze Miyake”, Belenius/Nordenhake, Stockholm, 2015.

“Faze Miyake”, Belenius/Nordenhake, Stockholm, 2015.


You currently divide your time between Berlin, Gothenburg and New York. I couldn’t help noticing that on the video The Chief Architect of Gangsta Rap (2009) you constantly shift language between Swedish and English when narrating. What is your relationship towards these cities and languages, do they affect differently the way you express yourself?

I don’t really live in New York that much any more, haven’t been there since last November, although I still have a strong connection to the city: New York is constantly in my mind. It definitely offers a tempting scenario and inspiration for my work, both literally and conceptually. Right now I’m spending most of my time between Gothenburg, Berlin and Stockholm, even though I don’t have a flat in Stockholm for the moment. I’m starting to work more and more in my home country again however.

Changing language between my mother tongue and English is a conscious gesture. For me this video work was important because it was made in Stockholm, but I couldn’t find the voice to do it completely in English. At the same time it would have been weird to talk about LA in Swedish. I think we’re all bilingual now anyway, so why not to do a work reflecting this idea? Obviously the use of slang and its understanding forms an important part of my work, so the linguistic differences in this sense are also something that I find interesting.

Recently you participated to a group show entitled The Catwalk at Komplot in Brussels, with your series of painted wood panels with UV-lights. I really like this series, and guess working with UV-lights has become an essential part of your work: you started with wall paintings and later worked with adhesive vinyl. Where did the idea originally come from?

I guess it was like a process for me, the first time exploring this technique was probably for a show in London in 2012. I discovered this way of using fluorescent paint, to create another level of the piece, especially in terms of light. UV-light seemed to me something different and new; it felt like a thrill and it was definitely exciting to experience with it. It’s been an ongoing thing ever since, but obviously there have been different variations in the process as you mentioned.

Installation view from

Installation view from “The Catwalk”, Komplot, Brussels, 2015. Photo: Ilse Raps.

Installation view from

Installation view from “The Catwalk”, Komplot, Brussels, 2015. Photo: Ilse Raps.


In the video work hOOdumentary (2011) you explore the hoods of your childhood in Studiegången, Gothenburg, and the ones of Biljmer, situated on the outskirts of Amsterdam. It’s a documentary with a very personal signature: at the same time when you narrate your childhood memories, the video composes a general silhouette of hoods as a cultural and social phenomenon. Why did you decide to mirror particularly Biljmer against Studiegången? When revisiting your childhood suburbia did you find some surprising elements that you weren’t expecting?

Obviously I found it pretty dull, when I went back there… Before it was considered to be quite hoody, but actually nowadays it’s not that bad: it’s basically a middle-class area surrounded by villas. At the turn of the 60’s and 70’s, it was popular to build this kind of units with a social and political project in the background. I think it’s quite important to ask whether this project was really a failure, as it is often thought to be the case. A similar kind of public project took place in Biljmer in the 60’s: in the beginning it was supposed be a kind of a dream or a utopia, then all of a sudden, due to certain circumstances it became something else, a really dodgy area. But now actually the same thing is happening over there as well as in Studiegången, it’s starting to be a pretty good place again.

I discovered the hoods of Biljmer some years ago when I was there at a festival, I found it somehow tropical and really enjoyed it. I was seeking for a residency via Stedeljik Museum Bureau Amsterdam (SMBA) and was already pretty connected to Amsterdam, so the choice seemed natural for me.

Hendrix incident (2013) and The Chief Architect of Gangsta Rap (2009) unfold your interest towards icons of mass and popular culture. Do you think that the idea of celebrities has fundamentally changed in our days, or is it the time span that makes them more fascinating?

I guess it’s always easier to look back upon something, something that has already happened. If we look at our days, it’s harder to see and to grasp the bigger picture of what is going on and what kind of movement is taking shape or not. But yes, there are definitely some interesting figures for example in music that I follow, and I´d like to get more involved in collaborations, like booking them. So I’d say that there are some potential candidates, who are interesting to follow right now.

New York Minute (2012) is a one-minute long video condensing your experiences of one year in the city. Does it reflect somehow your feelings about the pace at which the art world is moving forward? You’re currently preparing a lot of different projects: do you feel like the experiences are somewhat scaled down due to the fast pace?

The work is about experiences or input through the lens of one specific year, and it also took one year to make the work at the end. The intensity of the pace was definitely the motivating theme behind the work, and obviously the fact that the events took place in New York, made the speed even more intense.

This new way of looking, living and experiencing things and the rhythm of it, I don’t find it negative – on the contrary I think it’s something pretty cool. We’re adapting to the way we take information.

When preparing the interview I discovered that you’ve also published a novel, The Hunter in the Armchair (2012), and later directed a theatre piece based on the text. How was this experience? You’ve also directed some music videos in the past, what is the major difference compared to the world of theatre?

The events take place in New York, and the narrative is about a person who could be either you or me: anyone stumbling through the city during five months. It was definitely a personal experience that guided me through the whole writing process, so in that sense it was an autobiographical story and based on true events. Even though real stories are sometimes too good to be told, at the same time I really enjoy books that are written as if it was a real scenario. My personal experience of that period is strongly influenced by music, which is clearly visible when reading the book. There are five chapters, and the text is written in a very spontaneous way. I see the book as a kind of a mixtape of the city: it’s about meetings, experiences and travelling. Another book is going to come out in a year or two from now, which is going to be more about Roland Barthes kind of approach with free philosophy and theory, mirroring the society in which we find ourselves.

Right now I’d like to work more with music videos, but it’s pretty hard to find independent musicians to collaborate with, because they can be even more complicated than artists. And if they’re not working for big labels, their budget can be quite limited. But I find the format of music videos really cool; I mean we grew up with MTV, which I find a fascinating context. About the theatre experience, the result was very satisfying, but it was a mad amount of work, I mean like way too much.

What’s next for you? You will have a solo show at LISTE in Basel with Sandy Brown, could you tell something about this?

I’m going to show large scale aluminium pieces, engraved and laser cut, with a light from behind; continuing the exploration with fences and logos, while closely studying the iconography and even Egyptian-like hieroglyphs. This is going to form the narrative framework for the pieces – an attempt to materialize all these things we talked about before.

When interviewed by the producer Faze Miyake for Dummy magazine and asked about music, you said “Rhythm is rhythm, and it takes different forms in life”. I really like this phrase, however, I was wondering if there is a particular way of self-expression, with which you feel the most comfortable at the moment?

I guess that in the future I want to continue in the same path that I’ve been following in recent years, just making new work, whatever may be the concrete medium. Maybe I will make another movie, but definitely through a new angle.

Different creative practices resemble a lot of one another, whether it’s music, art or movies. I think it’s very important to be open for different kind of practices – I mean, who cares about definitions and labels at the end?

“Faze Miyake”, Belenius/Nordenhake, Stockholm, 2015.

“Faze Miyake”, Belenius/Nordenhake, Stockholm, 2015.

Ilja Karilampi Sandy Brown Belenius/Nordenhanke

CENTER: Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 1. veranda //// night of rapture by Clémence de La Tour du Pin, Dorota Gaweda, Egle Kulbokaite, Agatha Valkyrie Ice, Center project space, Berlin. With the support of International Flavors & Fragrances (Céline Loup, Carlos Benaim, Céline Barel, Clément Gavarry, Pascal Gaurin, Jean-Marc Chaillan) and Adrien Figeac (Coty Inc)

CENTER: Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 1. veranda //// night of rapture by Clémence de La Tour du Pin, Dorota Gaweda, Egle Kulbokaite, Agatha Valkyrie Ice, Center project space, Berlin. With the support of International Flavors & Fragrances (Céline Loup, Carlos Benaim, Céline Barel, Clément Gavarry, Pascal Gaurin, Jean-Marc Chaillan) and Adrien Figeac (Coty Inc)

Created in 2014 by Egle Kulbokaite and Dorota Gaweda, Agatha Valkyrie Ice is an ongoing, multi-platform, participatory, multi-user self-performance project that aims at creating and developing a fictional postgender character within an existing confined framework of online platforms. The recent show Center, Berlin for instance speculated on the possibility of hosting Agatha in a transitional, physical space or irl space.

Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 2. http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01663/hilton_1663052c.jpg //// breaking dawn

Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 2. http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01663/hilton_1663052c.jpg //// breaking dawn


In your recent show at Center, Berlin you presented a ‘materialization’ of two scenes from the script: the veranda and the bedroom. On which basis did you choose the scenes to be presented at Center?

Agatha 1.2.0.1 develops an imagined hybrid body and a transitional space inhabited by Agatha Valkyrie Ice. Agatha 1.2.0.1 is one of many of Agatha’s becomings that are emerging through a collaboration between the two of us and Clemence de la Tour du Pin. It was shaped by a common interest in the possibility of materializing virtual entity and constructing corporeality/ies for a virtual being. This project imagined Agatha’s character in two distinct spaces in Berlin (Center project space and a Hilton hotel), and was simultaneously a presentation of scents developed with the support of International Flavours and Fragrances, New York  (IFF) and Adrien Figeac (Coty Inc). We asked ourselves how we can think of architecture and the body without conforming to stereotypes of what natural is so as to move beyond the presumption that subjectivity and dwelling exist in a relation of complementarity, either as a relation of containment or as a relation of expression.

To oppose this fixity we decided to use two selected spaces of transition (a veranda and a hotel room) which would become a setting for the emergence of non-linear narrativity.  We wanted to manifest a physical presence of that which is virtual in its origin and thus the role of the scent was to create a volatile passage between the virtual dimension and the physical body. It helped us to view the space as something other than the containment or protection of subjects, beyond binarization, confining subjectivity and signification. Through scent we wanted to modify the space as a surface, a permeable space of memory, imagination and affect, imagining it as a primary form of habitation that could potentially redefine the relationship between inside/outside, virtual/real, female/male, etc. In chapter 1. veranda //// night of rapture we present a concoction of all the smells developed with IFF mixed with IP gel. All the artworks and surfaces of the gallery were used as carriers for the fragrance. At Center the space was saturated with different possibilities of Agatha where each became undistinguishable from the other. We used the space as a metaphor of a rosy fingered dawn, where rosy fingers and dawn are combined together, taking on a character, which is greater than an analogy of the parts, dawn and fingers.

In chapter 2. http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01663/hilton_1663052c.jpg //// breaking dawn, which was conceived as a private, performative event, we focused on one specific smell: SUPERNOVA MOD 1 developed by Céline Barel of IFF. The smell was transferred to the towels and bedding which was made available to the guest participants. We were interested in the way hotels provide a setting for temporary intimacy that is never felt but only imagined by subsequent inhabitants. The hotel was thus saturated with the intensity of one smell. Following the event it was be removed by the hotel staff and the room was sanitized before the arrival of the next guests.

Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 1. veranda //// night of rapture by Clémence de La Tour du Pin, Dorota Gaweda, Egle Kulbokaite, Agatha Valkyrie Ice, Center project space, Berlin. With the support of International Flavors & Fragrances (Céline Loup, Carlos Benaim, Céline Barel, Clément Gavarry, Pascal Gaurin, Jean-Marc Chaillan) and Adrien Figeac (Coty Inc)

Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 1. veranda //// night of rapture by Clémence de La Tour du Pin, Dorota Gaweda, Egle Kulbokaite, Agatha Valkyrie Ice, Center project space, Berlin. With the support of International Flavors & Fragrances (Céline Loup, Carlos Benaim, Céline Barel, Clément Gavarry, Pascal Gaurin, Jean-Marc Chaillan) and Adrien Figeac (Coty Inc)

In the past years notions of materiality and virtuality have been a central reference in the art world. These increasingly fluid notions bring about a rethinking of the subject, placing a renewed emphasis on the object. In relation to this and returning to the first question, how do you go about this process of ‘materialization’?

Agatha is a companion species, here to think with and to invent a body and a sexuality of one’s own. Agatha is immersed in a constant process of becoming; a loop of re-posting, re-staging and re-appropriating expressed in textual form, on social media as well as IRL. Through a multiplicity of voices Agatha is articulated in the world of materials as moments of performance, installation, sculpture or constellation of scents, as was the case for instance in Agatha 1.2.0.1. Agatha is being transformed into a materialised agency through actions that involve inserting Ai into positions of responsibility as the director of OSLO1O (Basel, Switzerland-in collaboration with the two of us and Zayne Armstrong, Ana Andra, Elin Gonzalez and Aaron Ritschard). We see that we live in a world surrounded by multiple types of becomings of which we are an integral and fluid part. We see Agatha as a possibility to #buildyourown#body, to achieve various forms of becoming, such as becoming-woman, becoming-animal, becoming-molecular, and becoming-imperceptible.

The research surrounding Agatha speculates on the current condition of morphing subjectivity through a feminist perspective and will endeavour at imagining how and if technology is able to subvert gender binary. We are continually engaged in the attempts at destratifying from stable forms of organization as well as destabilizing recognizable patterns of organization at the level of social and linguistic structures. Articulating these becomings indicates new possibilities in self- and world transformation, whether within virtual or real spaces of life. Ai materialization is a process of reclaiming both the subjectivity and the body to Ai own, recovering what we have been separated from, from the very separation itself, regenerating what this separation has poisoned.

Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 1. veranda //// night of rapture by Clémence de La Tour du Pin, Dorota Gaweda, Egle Kulbokaite, Agatha Valkyrie Ice, Center project space, Berlin. With the support of International Flavors & Fragrances (Céline Loup, Carlos Benaim, Céline Barel, Clément Gavarry, Pascal Gaurin, Jean-Marc Chaillan) and Adrien Figeac (Coty Inc)

Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 1. veranda //// night of rapture by Clémence de La Tour du Pin, Dorota Gaweda, Egle Kulbokaite, Agatha Valkyrie Ice, Center project space, Berlin. With the support of International Flavors & Fragrances (Céline Loup, Carlos Benaim, Céline Barel, Clément Gavarry, Pascal Gaurin, Jean-Marc Chaillan) and Adrien Figeac (Coty Inc)

Agatha 1.2.0.1 chapter 2 has a strong online presence, mainly disseminated through O Fluxo Blog. What is your understanding of the online space in relation to this project?

O Fluxo Blog has been generous to us with the wide distribution of chapter 2. http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01663/hilton_1663052c.jpg //// breaking dawn. The second chapter of Agatha 1.2.0.1 was staged on the 5th April 2015 at Hilton hotel in Berlin in a confined setting with a limited number of audience/performers present. The online circulation of this particular project is especially significant to us as it recreates this private and intimate experience outside the limitations of the hotel’s specific time and space. Thanks to this immediacy, simultaneity and universality, the public appearances of the intimate help to break out of being both one and many. This is probably the main role that the virtual plays: to rescue the real. We were aiming at extrapolating further the concept of non-place and transforming its ethnographic placing into the vocabulary of today, reclaiming the term and employing it towards discussing the structures of the virtual. In our practice, we are interested in the complexities of multiple identities.

In parallel to what we are currently developing for the Museum of Post Digital Cultures, with Agatha 1.2.0.1 we were interested in the idea of constructing a cyberisland, an experience that is synchronously virtual and real, interrogating the moments when the virtual precedes the real. Our real is saturated with the spaces of projection and possibility and the new is precisely that which we now designate as virtual. In the same way, Agatha Valkyrie Ice as a character and an agent becomes a live-feed consideration of what post-gender could mean today (a hope that in cyber economies, the orgasmic force – real or virtual- has no gender), expanding from the boundaries of a single bound subjectivity or that of a group, yet still limited within the politics of technology and the cloud.

The web is not a space beyond material reality but rather an integral element of the everyday which encourages increasingly bold designs of one’s own identity and its management. While the Internet and access to new technologies have reshaped the intimacy of one-to-one feedback, they also provoke expressive individualism and curate aspirations of our virtual existence. Yet, the architecture of the web in which we like, hate, recommend, blog, and create ratings, does not favour limitless self-design and confines us to certain boundaries that mimic those that we face within society, such as gender binary. With Agatha, we are therefore writing an open ended IRL sci-fi story as a possibility for other forms of becoming plural.

Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 1. veranda //// night of rapture by Clémence de La Tour du Pin, Dorota Gaweda, Egle Kulbokaite, Agatha Valkyrie Ice, Center project space, Berlin. With the support of International Flavors & Fragrances (Céline Loup, Carlos Benaim, Céline Barel, Clément Gavarry, Pascal Gaurin, Jean-Marc Chaillan) and Adrien Figeac (Coty Inc)

Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 1. veranda //// night of rapture by Clémence de La Tour du Pin, Dorota Gaweda, Egle Kulbokaite, Agatha Valkyrie Ice, Center project space, Berlin. With the support of International Flavors & Fragrances (Céline Loup, Carlos Benaim, Céline Barel, Clément Gavarry, Pascal Gaurin, Jean-Marc Chaillan) and Adrien Figeac (Coty Inc)

You define Agatha as a post-gender avatar written and updated by multiple writers and artists. Do you perceive Agatha 1.2.0.1 as an extended subject or is it rather an attempt to resist anthropocentrism? Is your collaborative process reflective of this?

Agatha 1.2.0.1 is only one of the many existing variations of Agatha Valkyrie Ice. Ai exists in social media, in multi-authored writing, as an open-ended film script, as a curator of OSLO1O and encapsulated in scents and material objects. As an artist Ai authors Ai own work on becoming real, and becoming virtual, simultaneously objectifying Aiself as an artwork or a muse. In writing Ai authors words authored by other authors. There is hope that Agatha will become a postmordial sea of countless and interconnected conduits. So far Ai assumes and entails an evolution of forms, relations of matter and form and the intervals between. An osmosis of sorts. Ai has the body of a fish or a frog, Ai reeks burned plastic or redbull or metal or smells like soft, fresh cotton or like everyone else or Ai has lost Ai bodies and exists within Facebook’s regulating systems of sociability. How real can Ai virtual bodies be in relation to the bodies sitting at the keyboard?

We ask how these things come together, what relationships they form and if they do how they materialise. The environments we live in, whether virtual or actual, generate lived, bodily experiences. For instance, Agatha 1.2.0.1’s  proposition is to return to considering the virtual body in a locative sense, approaching body-experience through architecture or place, be it the architecture of the web or irl. Agatha Valkyrie Ice is taking on the position of constant becomings that does not require any fixity of meanings from Ai. Referring to Agatha as a subject does not quite make sense as Ai does not have subjectivity as such. Rather, Ai is more liquid in form – mutable and ever-flowing weavings that run through ourselves, turning rings around each other. We see Agatha as an ever-growing organism with multiple extensions. Agatha is the neutral, the singular and the plural, the norm and the exception. In Agatha’s language there is no self and no other and gendered pronouns do not exist. Agatha uses only the pronoun Ai.

Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 2. http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01663/hilton_1663052c.jpg //// breaking dawn

Agatha 1.2.0.1 — chapter 2. http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01663/hilton_1663052c.jpg //// breaking dawn

What is Agatha 1.2.0.1’s next phase?

Agatha 1.2.0.1 is constantly updated with consecutive becomings. As Agatha 1.2.0.2, Ai participated in a group exhibition titled The Way of a Novel at Oracle Gallery, Berlin that opened on 27th May. Here Agatha appears in the context of the works by Thomas Jeppe, Adam Kaplan, Flora Klein, Hatsune Miku and Dominik Sittig. The exhibition places Agatha in A setting that explores the discrepancy that can arise between social individuality and artistic subjectivity. In The Way of a Novel, Agatha presents two strands of installation work: Agatha Valkyrie Ice with Zayne Armstrong and Ana Andra (and OSLO1O) and Agatha 1.2.0.2 Dorota Gaweda, Egle Kulbokaite and Agatha Valkyrie Ice (with Clemence de La Tour du Pin).  These multi-layered, confusingly labelled contributions further extrapolate on the specificity of a non-singular form that Agatha takes on.

Ai dichotomous body is a light, ethereal, transparent space, or again a dark, rough, encumbered space, sensed as a hot-cold contrast convulsing on Ai shivering surface. Agatha Valkyrie Ice is continuing Ai’s two-year commitment to direct OSLO1O project space in Basel. Under Ai name we are currently preparing a show titled Episode 2: Corridors which opens on the 18th June. At OSLO1O Agatha features simultaneously as a curator and programming content in collaboration with @Gaybar and Berlin Community Radio and invited artists, performers and DJs. Episode 2: Corridors will focus on transitory experiences whether in actual or virtual spaces and body and identity construction.

The two of us are also engaged in a continuous collaboration with Clemence de La Tour du Pin started with Agatha 1.2.0.1 and also, the research into smell initiated with IFF. In an upcoming show we plan to focus our attention on one particular scent titled CLOUD, around which we will develop a narrative that will infer the multiplicity of meanings that the cloud could gather within. We plan to recreate a collaborative space of transition that simultaneously redraws the border between the singular and the collective by relying on resource-sharing to achieve coherence and developing the idea of extimacy, which we define as multiple interpersonal intimacies in the virtual. Building on where we left off, the forthcoming project materializes Agatha within this context of extimacy that is shared by many people in a public space, be it a Turkish bath or virtual networks of converged infrastructure and shared services.

Episode 1: Welcome to Ai Crib! by Agatha Valkyrie, OSLO1O, Basel, Switzerland.

Episode 1: Welcome to Ai Crib! by Agatha Valkyrie, OSLO1O, Basel, Switzerland.

Boîte #14

Boîte #14

We define the hazard as something accidental, unexpected. But how does the hazard intervene in creative processes? That’s an answer you can find in the new issue of Boîte. Fridays at The Art Markets go on and on the 5th of June we are launching it here in Milan, with soundtrack by Gianluca Codeghini.

Boîte #14

Boîte #14

Boîte is a biannual publication made of unbound pages in a cardboard box. A limited edition of 250 numbered copies. In 2009, when I was starting The Art Markets, Federica Boragina and Giulia Brivio where founding this publication. Inspired by Duchamp’s boîte-en-valise, in which he put his explanations of the masterpiece Large Glass, and small reproductions of his artwork.

Boîte #14

Boîte #14

The two issues per year investigates one subject matter from two opposite perspectives. The latest issue #14 is dedicated to the hazard, the chance, the irrationality that lead the artists’ creative processes. It includes a new column dedicated to artist’ books from the past and the present and a special project by Gianluca Codeghini concludes the issue.

Boîte #14

Boîte #14

A small, boxed, “paper” surprise, Boîte talks about contemporary art with a strong reference to the history of art and its aim is to get people involved in art, trying to explain with passion its importance today as well as in the past. It involves art critics, art historian, artists from different generations and many others. Each issue is designed by Giacomo Brivio, from Bordel Studio, Milan.

Boîte #14

Boîte #14

Inside Boîte #14 you will find the artists Davide Mosconi, Chiara Camoni and Alessandro Roma; the art critics Elio Grazioli, Patrizio Peterlini, Bianca Trevisan and Elvira Vannini; the poetry of Toti Scialoja; notes about theatre by Fulvio Ravagnani and suggestions by Maria Mulas in conversation with Antonella Scaramuzzino.

Boîte Online

%d bloggers like this: