Germany
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Piggy Bank, Philip Wiegard, macedonian bag pipe (kaba gaida), paint |
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Exhibition View
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Exhibition View |
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Exhibition View |
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Without Title, Kathrin Sonntag, photographic wallpaper on wood/
Plant, Alvaro Urbano, metal, paint
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Plant, Alvaro Urbano, metal, paint |
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Plant, Alvaro Urbano, metal, paint |
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Plant, Alvaro Urbano, metal, paint, detail |
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Plant, Alvaro Urbano, metal, paint, detail |
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Exhibition View |
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Outside Insight Paravent, Sophie Erlund, wood, mirror, acrylic wash, paper, sand,
enamel paint
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Turtlesnake, Philip Wiegard, formed snake leather |
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Turtlesnake, Philip Wiegard, formed snake leather
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Exhibition View |
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Exhibition View |
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Exhibition View |
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A man flexing his muscle to show off his strength, Tania Perez Cordova, orthopedic foam
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A man flexing his muscle to show off his strength, Tania Perez Cordova, orthopedic foam
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The french word tomber means falling, tombe means tomb.
The moment between falling and have fallen is inherent in every step we take, not-knowing if there will be ground which will catch and support us and – in the case of a step, enable a next one, or – in that of a grave, offer a final support.
The works in the exhibition Tomber challenge us in their weightless intangibility, to play a game which is not about fake news or real facts, but rather orientation and perspective. Through magical gravity, the foot does not always land on the ground but instead, in the air.
In times of I-Pad and I-Phone and other eye/ego-machines, it seems relevant to question what exactly the I and its technological extension sees and what that does to the eye/I in its endless reproducibility, weightlessness and flatness. It appears as if we may need a new form of visual indecipherability and resistiveness in order to escape the permanent exploiting loop of our current system.
In 1955 Einstein’s brain was stolen by the pathologist who had assessed the scientist’s death. Unauthorized, he opened the skull removing brain and eyes in order to examine what made this brain, which brought us time-space relativity, so exceptional. He cut it into 240 little cubes to be widely distributed into the scientific community. Needless to say, nothing fundamentally surprising came out of this research. One suspects that the little fragments – the meat-pixels- would be the entirely wrong format for such a quest. Einstein’s eyes are still lying in a safe somewhere in NYC, deadly staring into the black hole they had once imagined.