Written in the Stars

Mihaela Chiriac



When the subway jerks it’s the fixed stars that throw you down1. But indeed, the North Star is no fixed star. In other words, it is, though merely in relation to us and our microscopic existence. Which means that while this is true, it also is not, and so it is, as many things in this world seem to be, relative. How is one supposed to navigate, given these imprecise, deceiving coordinates, and whereto? One shall simply rely on one’s own body as a system of reference. Expanding on the divide between the physiological and the geometrical space, some ideas from the year 1906 would suggest so:

The sensible space of our immediate perception, which we find ready at hand on awakening to full consciousness, is considerably different from geometrical space.

The space of the Euclidian geometry is everywhere and in all directions constituted alike; it is unbounded and it is infinite in extent. On the other hand, the space of sight, or “visual space”, (…), is found to be neither constituted everywhere and in all directions alike, nor infinite in extent, nor unbounded.

The visual space in its origin is in nowise metrical.

The skin, which is a closed surface of complicated geometrical form, is an agency of spatial perception.

The fact that our sense of space is not developed at points where it can have no biological function, should not be a cause of special astonishment to us. What purpose could it serve to be informed concerning the location of internal organs over the functions of which we have no control? Thus, our sense of space does not extend to any great distance into the interior of the nostrils.

[Yet, if I may remind, is not the spleen an indication of Saturn?]

The biological needs would not be satisfied with the pure relations of geometric space. “Rightness,” “leftness,” “aboveness,” “belowness,” “nearness,” and “farness,” must be distinguished by a sensational quality.

The perfect biological adaptation of large groups of connected elementary organs among one another is thus very distinctly expressed in the perception of space.

Every sensation is in part spatial in character (…).

Although every single feeling due to a sensory organ (feeling of space) is registered according to its specific character between those next related to it, a plurality of excited organs is nevertheless very advantageous for distinctness of localization, for the reason that the contrasts between the feelings of locality are enlivened in this way. Visual space, therefore, which ordinarily is well filled with objects, thus affords the best means of localization. Localization becomes at once uncertain and fluctuant for a single bright spot on a dark background.

Horror vacui, the terror of the empty space. The unthinkable Emptiness.



Where was I? The change. In what did it consist? It is hard to say. Something slipped. There I was, warm and bright, smoking my tobacco-pipe, watching the warm bright wall, when suddenly somewhere some little thing slipped, some little tiny thing. Gliss-iss-iss-STOP! I trust I make myself clear. There is a great alp of sand, one hundred metres high, between the pines and the ocean, and there in the warm moonless night, when no one is looking, no one listening, in tiny packets of two or three millions the grains slip, all together, a little slip of one or two lines maybe, and then stop, all together, not one missing, and that is all, that is all for that night, and perhaps for ever that is all, for in the morning with the sun a little wind from the sea may come, and blow them one from another far apart, or a pedestrian scatter them with his foot, though that is less likely. It was a slip like that I felt, that Tuesday afternoon, millions of little things moving all together out of their old place, into a new one nearby, and furtively, as though it were forbidden. And I have little doubt that I was the only person living to discover them. To conclude from this that the incident was internal would, I think, be rash. For my – how shall I say – my personal system was so distended at the period of which I speak that the distinction between what was inside it and what was outside it was not at all easy to draw. Everything that happened happened inside it, and at the same time everything that happened happened outside it. I trust I make myself plain. I did not, need I add, see things happen, nor hear it, but I perceived it with a perception so sensuous that in comparison the impressions of a man buried alive in Lisbon on Lisbon’s great day seem a frigid and artificial construction of the understanding.3

For all we know, the structure of a table could be that of a temple. With the temporal bone and its muscle; the cyclops’s gaze venturing inside and out; and organs without bodies. And will – itself an inarticulate muscle, twitching. For all we know, Saturn could be a grain, one of a million tumbling away when no one is looking.



Indeed, the spleen. One cannot but commiserate with the foolish melancholic Geometrician, the false Earth-Measurer. It has been claimed that it was not sluggishness that marked her face and posture, not lethargy or boredom; instead, super-lucidity in front of a problem which could not be solved. The lie is in our understanding, and darkness is so firmly entrenched in our mind that even our groping will fail,4 a mournful Dürer had come to realize. In that portrayal, he may have reflected himself, the artist-geometrician, embodied by a morose celestial being paralyzed by its renunciation of what it could reach because it cannot reach for what it longs5. Set within the boundaries of spatial and corporeal quantities, admittance to the metaphysical would be denied.

Pursuit of Wisdom whilst Saturn devours his sons.



Therefore, back to the body.

Accidentally, Werther’s finger touches Charlotte’s, their feet, under the table, happen to brush against each other. Werther might be engrossed by the meaning of those accidents; he might concentrate physically on these slight zones of contact and delight in this fragment of inert finger or foot, fetishistically, without concern for the response (like God – as the etymology of the word tells us – the Fetish does not reply). But in fact Werther is not perverse, he is in love: he creates meaning, always and everywhere, out of nothing, and it is meaning which thrills him: he is in the crucible of meaning. Every contact, for the lover, raises the question of an answer: the skin is asked to reply.6

While wisdom remains fragmentary, yet another sort of geometry unfolds here.

1   Attributed to the Austrian physicist and philosopher Ernst Mach (1838-1916) by fellow scientist Philipp Frank.

2   Quotes taken from Ernst Mach’s essay On Physiological, As Distinguished From Geometrical, Space, in: E. Mach, Space and Geometry in the Light of Physiological, Psychological and Physical Inquiry, Chicago and London, 1906, p. 5–17.

3   Samuel Beckett, Watt, New York, 1953, p. 42-43.

4   A quote from Albrecht Dürer translated by Erwin Panofsky, in: E. Panofsky, The Life and Art of Albrecht Dürer, Princeton, 1955 p. 171

5   Erwin Panofsky, (see note 4), p. 170

6   Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse. Fragments, New York, 1979, p. 67



Martin Ebner, Kitty Kraus
Brochure, 84 pages, English/Lithuanian
CAC – Contemporary Art Centre, Vilnius, 2016

With contributions by Tenzing Barshee, Mihaela Chiriac, Haytham El-Wardany, Monika Kalinauskaitė, Valentinas Klimašauskas, Ariane Müller, Audrius Pocius & Nicholas Matranga

A Sequel to the Story

A Sequel to the Story

Monika Kalinauskaitė


Excitement is incredibly important. It fuels situations and dancing. We are a puddle of momentary happiness at the foot of this column of sound. Every week, dozens of these puddles melt together into a regular Friday. Vapors and thrills surround the column and rise above the city full of full moons.

The engineer of perspectives is also there, somewhere, giving out pamphlets. I never catch her but she is always there. When I grow up, I want to be an engineer of perspectives, said a raven-haired girl, skipping through the yellowing ashes of what was once a story. For a moment I could have sworn she looked all of us in the eyes before casting them back to what was important. The engineer kicked those ashes off and motioned her crew to proceed.

They always show up to purify the scene of a story after all dirty narrative deeds have been done. Starting with the remnants of this small and distant universe, they gathered only the important ones: a single porous palm stuck in a vulgar gesture, someone’s eyes still struggling to escape for the woods, and, of course, the small and vibrant calamity, immediately snatched by a confident hand. The collector of calamities held it, smiling, letting it drip all over her elbow, then sealing it gently in a bottle of ink. The ravenhead giggled. I could have a sworn I giggled with her.

The engineer of perspectives doesn’t concern herself with raising structures – she specializes in being raised by structures. Together with the collector of calamities they approach the universe from a diagonal angle, interjected in a wall of reality. Their gaze travels through the teleport tube and always returns back to one of the many incarnations of earth. They held hands and talked shop.

There are so many shadows of geometry here,” the engineer said. “Someone set out to build a world and left a huge mess for us. Long lines at the bar be damned. Once my glass is full, you better start your collection of shots.”

We can still recover some continuation, though,” the collector replied. “Soon this will glide smoothly, like a long-desired sequel. I like this party a lot, it’s lovely to see so many individuals out there, to watch all their connections emanate and evaporate, all those gazes wandering and returning.”

The engineer of perspectives and the collector of calamities are figures from the pure in-betweenness, the ravenhead explains. They do their best to cast away characters, and yet can function as types of people – such as those who visit exhibitions. They meet there sometimes, retreat to the corners to kiss and play harmless tricks on each other. They know the importance of what fills space to the brim: scattered punches, given or taken, a child hiding doors and maybe a small animal’s patient gaze. I watch how the ravenhead grows up into a fully formed cat. She works in trains now, adjusts the cabin windows just right, so that the light falls straight into the eyeholes of sleeping passengers, goes in through one and leaves at once through another.

During the past year I have switched cities and ambitions. I have redrawn geographies of every emotion, I have circled around a few towers of joy. I haven’t been under the table though. It’s nice here, I just need to follow the ravenhead’s gaze. Change is so unremarkable, I have worn it every day for so long now. Now we are both just dancing in a circular motion, a motion that every column demands. To hell with characters, says the engineer of perspectives, all they do is burn worlds down. The only way to carry a story is to let someone straight into a big secret.

And what a big secret it is, one where all the daily dances start anew and the light suddenly branches and as I recover I am still dripping pearls into my own lap. The collector of calamities gathers them smiling and seals them into those ink bottles. I crack one open and it comes out as bubbling champagne. Shapes only make sense when they are difficult to define, and that is why the column stops.

Let’s go”, the engineer motions.

They finish the cleanup and retreat to their poetic devices. The ravenhead’s gaze shines upon a city full of full moons. I will always be a puddle of momentary happiness in the middle of a big secret, and excitement, more than anything, is extremely important to me.



Martin Ebner, Kitty Kraus
Brochure, 84 pages, English/Lithuanian
CAC – Contemporary Art Centre, Vilnius, 2016

With contributions by Tenzing Barshee, Mihaela Chiriac, Haytham El-Wardany, Monika Kalinauskaitė, Valentinas Klimašauskas, Ariane Müller, Audrius Pocius & Nicholas Matranga

A Faint Thud Towards the Future

A Faint Thud Towards the Future

Haytham El-Wardany


A strong wind rushes through the entrance of a residential building, causing its glass portal to slam violently back and forth. Currents of air run through the corridor, carrying with them broken branches. A bike leaning against the wall falls to the floor, amidst disposed paper cups and swirling tin cans. Bursting through, with each blow stronger than the last, the wind reaches the back-yard door making it rattle heavily in its place. It sweeps through all the crevices of the building, storming around its interiors. The tenants rush to close their windows and doors, in fear of their belongings toppling and falling down. Near the portal is a lamp connected to a movement sensor. This delicate sensor detects the smallest movement in its vicinity and lights the hallway. Throughout this day the windows squeaked, the doors shuddered, and the entrance lamp flashed on and off, as the sensor detected thousands of invisible movements. This building is located in a neighborhood, which has a museum commemorating a crushed revolution that took place over twenty years ago, not before killing thousands of people’s lives.

In the same city where this building stands, sits a woman in a hotel room thinking about the future, while reading a novel called Happy Moscow, by Andrei Platonov. The introduction of this novel tells of a woman who felt lost upon her arrival to Moscow in 1935. This woman was the mother of the famous German historian Wolfgang Leonard, who, according to an anecdote told later by her son, bought a map of Moscow, only to find with surprise that many of the city’s buildings were not indicated, and that the street names have been changed. She would come to realize that the map she held, was an old map from the twenties. After days of meandering, she was momentarily excited to find new maps suddenly appearing in shops, but to her disappointment, these turned out to portray a future Moscow – one to be realized with the completion of the ambitious General Reconstruction Plan. The map represented extravagant buildings, and streets carrying names of people yet to be born. The communist mother drifted in Moscow for many days, lost between the map of the past and the map of the future. The translator in his introduction states that Platonov’s view on the Bolshevik revolution in his novel is equally disoriented, equally lost between a dark past and an impossible bright future.

In front of the museum commemorating the revolution stands Wind looking towards the opposite street, carrying a bagpipe, and attempting to make the voice of history audible to passersby in the rumbling street. Wind thinks that the voice of history which he blows rises clear and loud, but not one of the passers-by appears to notice it. He decides to increase the power of his blowing by grabbing the bagpipe and filling his chest with all of the air around him. Wind mobilizes all his strength, and blows a powerful breath through the pipe. One passer-by feels something passing through her body. She thinks that she might have heard a sound, a faint thud, but she is unsure. A distorted clank of sorts that has been crushed into parts. It sounds like a cry or a hum issued by an inhumane throat. What could it be? She asks herself. The message coming from afar is no longer decipherable, but a call of a pure language, so pure that no one understands it anymore. The passerby examines the sound which she suspects she heard again, hoping to understand what it might carry. She neglects it after failing to, and continues her way towards the future.

The woman sitting in the hotel does not have the strength to walk into town. Everywhere she goes she sees ghosts of a future yet to come. In every city she visits, is a museum, and a memory of an aborted revolution. For a short moment, there had flashed a future in the city skies, before vanishing away again. It took with it all the various reconstruction plans that had been dreamt by many, and had paid its exorbitant price. Exhausted by the scene of all these ruins she sits in her room thinking about the deadlocks of her life and of the city she comes from. She wants to go down to the streets of the city in order to bind its failures to her failures, but she does not know how to. So she goes back to the book she is reading. The young heroine of the novel, whose name also happens to be Moscow, loves the air and likes to listen to the wind. One of her lovers suggested that she should then study aeronautics, because it is the science of the future. Moscow followed the advice, and became a skilled parachutist. Excited by flying, she had tried to light a cigarette in the air, which put a quick end to her new career. Her chefs considered this a breach of the morals of the work. Moscow, who searches for communism of love, ended up working for the Moscow Metropolitan Construction Project. One day she slipped from the scaffolding, which made her fly briefly in the air, one last time, before landing on the ground crushing her leg.

In the museum a major art exhibition is inaugurated by the Mayor of the city, accompanied by a group of ambassadors and celebrities. On display, is a fully functioning copy of a bookstore which played a vital role during the revolution. This bookstore had been the meeting point for debates and discussions. The bookstore copy is made of wood, offering old and new books on art and politics. Occasionally, it also hosts small discussions groups. After the opening, one of the discussion groups was taken by surprise as dozens of journalists stormed the place with their TV cameras, followed by a man in a suit with dyed black hair. The journalists were covering what the official was doing. He grabbed the first book he had come across, while absently listening to explanations from the lady by his side. The official wearily walked a few steps through the place, which had become increasingly crowded with journalists. Two minutes later, he left, followed by the crew of journalists, who left behind them an air of apprehension in the place. The gaze of those who sat behind followed the official as he moved to observe another art work. He is an official who has a position in the government, headed today by the daughter of the ruler, against whom the revolution started more than twenty years ago.

The museum consists of two buildings, separated by a big yard. The passage between the two buildings intensifies the path of the wind passing to and from nearby residential buildings. In the big yard stood a group of workers removing the remains of yesterday’s storm. They swept the broken branches aside, and collected the shards of a window which was left forgotten open. They then lowered a flag from its mast which had been torn, and replaced it with a new one, fixing it through its rope. The young man pulling the rope, hauling the flag up to its place, could still hear a dimmed sound of wind. It sounded like a long exhalation, or a combination of a guttural and a rolling R. The young worker wondered if the air had passed through a magic throat which can iterate these two sounds together. This light gurgling sound reverberated in his pinna, connecting two spaces, and building an intimate relationship between two moments. The sound of wind never comes alone, but is combined with all what joins it on its path. The worker raising the flag, heard the gurgling of the wind, mixed with rustling sound of the trees, the sweeping of his colleagues brooms on the pavement’s surface, the clinging of the metal ring that connects the flag to the mast, and the fluttering of the cloth. The flag of the museum finally reached its position, hanging upright next to the flag of the city and that of the state.

Nose likes to drink, and was invited to participate in the exhibition. She came from a distant place, and did not know what to do, so Nose decided to take a holiday. She strolled through the city, and one day she met Hammer. Hammer invited her to have a picnic in the mountain, and Nose agreed. Hammer brought with him his friends Two Things. Two Things were busy all the way having sex. Whenever the group decided to have a break on the way, Two Things would discover new holes in their bodies and start to have sex using them, amid the laughter of the others. On the road, Stone appeared to the group and asked if she could accompany them. They all agreed. Stone was idling most of the time, letting herself get carried along the way by one of the group members. Sometimes they were having fun standing in a circle and throwing the stone from hand to hand. On one junction Hammer had a terrible accident. He was hit by a car and died. Hammer’s ghost loomed in the place, went through a heavy cloud, and suddenly found himself with other ghosts running away from tear gas. Shots flew everywhere, and blood spurted from every corner. And the battle went on. As Nose had a sip from her bottle, scratching her head trying to figure out what to do, Wind appeared beside the body of Hammer. He told the group that there is a missing pamphlet, which was lost before its distribution because the revolution was crushed. Mountain, watching all that was taking place around him, turned to the group and intervened saying that the pamphlet is in a place he knows in the city, and offered to accompany them. Everyone agreed, and set off on their way back to the city to look for the missing paper.

Thanks to:
Cráter Invertido Collective, Walter Benjamin, Andrej Platonov, Jumana Manna.


Martin Ebner, Kitty Kraus
Brochure, 84 pages, English/Lithuanian
CAC – Contemporary Art Centre, Vilnius, 2016

With contributions by Tenzing Barshee, Mihaela Chiriac, Haytham El-Wardany, Monika Kalinauskaitė, Valentinas Klimašauskas, Ariane Müller, Audrius Pocius & Nicholas Matranga

Walter Benjamin in Bern





Walter Benjamin Konferenz 2019
Universität Bern
26.-29. Juni 2019


Walter Benjamin in Bern

27.-29. Juni 2019, UniS (Universität Bern), Schanzeneckstrasse 1

Ausstellung, kuratiert von Toni Hildebrandt im Auftrag des Walter Benjamin Kollegs

Künstlerische Beiträge von
Florian Zeyfang, Ariane Müller & Martin Ebner

Videos von Aura Rosenberg und Frances Scholz, featuring Lais and Chantal Benjamin


Vor 100 Jahren promovierte Walter Benjamin in Bern über den Begriff der Kunstkritik in der deutschen Romantik. Auf der Flucht vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg bedeuteten die wenigen Jahre in der Schweiz für ihn ein «erstes Exil». Neben seiner Kunstphilosophie konzipierte er mit Gershom Scholem dort auch die «Universität Muri».

In der Ausstellung wird auch erstmals ein kürzlich entdecktes, 1935 gemaltes Portrait Walter Benjamins zu sehen sein.

Die Ausstellung hat keine Vernissage, aber kann vom 27. bis 29. Juni während der Benjamin-Konferenz besichtigt werden, auch ohne an dieser aktiv teilzunehmen.

Gestaltung: Martin Ebner
Konstruktion: Lorenzo Salafia
Organisation: Ariane Lorke
Text: Toni Hildebrandt
Lektorat: Zora Schiffer

Mit freundlicher Unterstützung des Walter Benjamin Archivs Berlin, Akademie der Künste und der Hamburger Stiftung zur Förderung von Wissenschaft und Kultur, des Suhrkamp-Verlags,
des Zentrums Paul Klee Bern und des Staatsarchivs des Kantons Bern

Ariane Müller & Martin Ebner: Kinder, Tiere, Greise als Sammler
für die Walter Benjamin Konferenz 2019, Bern

Walter Benjamin sammelte Kinderspielzeug, ein Zug an ihm, der ihn ein wenig spleenig erscheinen lässt. Gershom Scholem beschreibt in „Die Geschichte einer Freundschaft“ die tiefe innere Beziehung, die er zu den Dingen, die er besaß, hatte. Er liebte es, schreibt er, sie aufzustellen und sie seinen Freunden in die Hand zu geben. Indem er eine Spielsache seines Sohns Stefan herausholte, so schreibt Scholem weiter, entwickelte er im Gespräch philosophische Überlegungen.
Walter Benjamin selbst schrieb und publizierte über Spielzeug, auch unter Verwendung von Abbildungen seiner Sammlung.

Die Lustigkeit aus Schuldbewußtsein kommt bei den albernen Verzerrungen ins Große, Breite vorzüglich auf ihre Rechnung. Wer Lust hat, dem Warenkapital in die Fratze zu sehen, braucht nur an eine Spielzeughandlung zu denken, wie sie bis vor fünf Jahren typisch gewesen und in kleinen Städten noch heute die Regel ist. Höllische Ausgelassenheit ist die Grundstimmung. Von den Deckeln der Gesellschaftsspiele, aus dem Kopf der Charakterpuppen grinsten Larven, lockten aus dem schwarzen Kanonenrohr, kicherten in den sinnreichen »Katastrophenwagen«, die beim fälligen Eisenbahnunglück in die vorgesehenen Teile zerfielen.
Kaum aber hatte hier die militante Bosheit sich verkrochen, so kam der Klassencharakter dieses Spielzeugs an anderer Stelle zum Durchbruch. Die »Einfachheit« wurde ein kunstgewerbliches Schlagwort.

aus: Walter Benjamin, Spielzeug und Spielen. Randbemerkungen zu einem Monumentalwerk 1)
Gesammelte Schriften III, Kritiken und Rezensionen 1912 – 1931



Am Sonntag, den 16.06.2019, dem letzten Tag der Starship Ausstellung
Die nahe Zukunft
im Pavillon der Volksbühne
freuen wir uns über alle, die zwischen 16:00 und 20:00 vorbeikommen.

Es gibt noch zusätzliche Amüsements, Getränke und Musik, den leeren Platz, auf dem die Sonne lacht, vorbeeilende zufrühkommende Passanten auf dem Weg zur nächsten Premiere, Touristen, die sich vom Berghain erholen, Nachbarn, die ihre Hunde auf dem Kinderspielplatz ausführen, Erklärungen, für die, die die Ausstellung nicht verstanden haben, die Stunde da wir nichts voneinander wußten, Aufmerksamkeitsanalyse, Haus am See.

Starship. Die nahe Zukunft
LVX. Pavillon der Volksbühne am Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz, Berlin

Eine Installation von Ariane Müller und Martin Ebner (Starship),
mit Arbeiten von Judith Hopf, Christoph Keller, Henrik Olesen, Gunter Reski, Nina Rhode, Nora Schultz, Till Sperrle, Tobias Spichtig, Suse Weber, Annette Wehrmann und Florian Zeyfang.



Nina Rhode, Money makes the devil dance, 2019




The Near Future: An Evening with Starship and Guests

The Near Future: An Evening with Starship and Guests
22.03. Grüner Salon der Volksbühne, Berlin

Larry Gottheim, Barn Rushes
16mm film, color, silent, 35 min., 1971

Klaus Weber, Das Witzetape (The Joke Tape)
Video, audio, 30 min., 1995

Larry Gottheim’s 1971 structuralist film Barn Rushes shows—in a series of elegantly oscillating tracking shots arranged into different views—nothing more and nothing less than the image of the silhouette of a large barn, dissolving in different conditions of light, depending on the different times of the day and year. In this masterful study of stationary cinema and the frenzied movement of the cinematic image, the viewer does not know what exactly this building or barn is, but senses that through its form and its materials of wood and celluloid it is connected to another, earlier modernity, and as a result seems to be already doomed to obsolescence. This lends it a serious clarity as a moving image and implicates the cinematic experience associated with it.

According to Wikipedia, in 1670 Kurfürst Friedrich Wilhelm forbade having barns within the city area for fire safety reasons, and around 1672 he arranged the construction of twenty-seven barns in the immediate vicinity of what were then the city walls. This is how the present Scheunenviertel (Barn district) came into being. Alexanderplatz was a cattle market at the time, requiring large amounts of hay and straw. As the fire safety regulations prohibited the storage of such flammable materials within the city walls, the barns were built right outside the wall. North of what is now Dircksenstraße, which marks the wall’s approximate course before the baroque city fortification, lay extensive agricultural land. The Scheunenviertel also served as a home for the agricultural workers employed there. After the city wall was torn down, the area was developed, but kept its old name in common parlance.

None of the Berlin Scheunengassen (Barn Alleys) exist today in their historical form.

While viewing a film such as Barn Rushes, anticipation and remembrance are active both in a long-term perspective and in the intensified perceptual space of the moments between short-term memory and projection. We learn while we are watching, wondering from time to time how much longer the film might last, and we can assume with some certainty that there are other variations of the barn images that will follow. At the same time, this apparent certainty allows you to zone out and reflect on things that are perhaps stored in the vicinity of the word “barn” or its image, or perhaps have nothing at all to do with the barn but because they lie close to the emotion of the cinematic image of the barn, they take shape and emerge.

Something might come to mind that you had forgotten a long time ago, or that you did not know you had stored in your own memory. The mind, the inner memory, conjures something in relation to the inside and the outside. An inner picture, a social image or perhaps a joke. But perhaps it is not a joke at all. Or you don’t know yet that it is a joke for someone else.

In 1995, the Berlin artist Klaus Weber approached passers-by on Oranienburger Straße and Chausseestrasse in Berlin, asking them to spontaneously tell him a joke. The resulting audio piece, the so-called Witzetape (Joke Tape), sets the tone of the second part of the program that deals with Berlin and its streets, and a drastic articulation of the burst of the pre-conscious into the conscious realm.

Photo: Filmstill Barn Rushes. Credit: Arsenal – Institut für Film und Videokunst e.V.

Continue reading

Starship: The Near Future

The Near Future. An installation by Ariane Müller and Martin Ebner, 2019


Works by Judith Hopf, Christoph Keller, Henrik Olesen, Gunter Reski, Nina Rhode, Nora Schultz, Till Sperrle, Tobias Spichtig, Suse Weber, Annette Wehrmann and Florian Zeyfang.


Starship: The Near Future
LVX. Pavillon der Volksbühne Berlin


15.3.2019, 19:00–24:00
Live at Grüner Salon: 
19:00 Sir Henry and Herman Hermann, 22:00 Egill Saebjörnsson


Linienstrasse 227, 10178 Berlin
Duration of the exhibition: 16.03. – 16.06.19
Thursday-Sunday, 2pm-8pm


An installation by Ariane Müller and Martin Ebner, with works by Judith Hopf, Christoph Keller, Henrik Olesen, Gunter Reski, Nina Rhode, Nora Schultz, Till Sperrle, Tobias Spichtig, Suse Weber, Annette Wehrmann and Florian Zeyfang.


The glass pavilion next to the Volksbühne is a small star, but its light shines bright. It is the boat floating alongside the theater tanker. Between its periods as a bookstore, a ticket office, or standing empty, it was time and again run as independent exhibition spaces. Beginning in March 2019 it receives one more new coat: from now on a fixed venue of the Volksbühne named LVX and curated by Elodie Evers, work by visual artists and collectives will be exhibited regularly. As opposed to the monumentality of its surroundings, the pavilion’s transparent lightness points to the historical open architecture typical of DDR urban planning in the sixties. Thanks to its practically see-through appearance, it is a public object per se, intended primarily for passing pedestrians. It will be launched by the Berlin-based art magazine Starship with a look back to the future:
Founded in 1998 in Berlin-Mitte, Starship exists by now for more than twenty years. In its first issue, it used six key phrases to describe the environment in which it operated: “experienced self-organization”; “halfway drafted life models”; “passing economy”; “ exhibitable introspection”; “ample contacts” and “art?”
Twenty years later, Starship continues to produce the magazine, but also looks back on a long life-span as an exhibition organizer, publisher, and producer. Within the current editorial board — which includes Gerry Bibby, Nikola Dietrich, Martin Ebner, Ariane Müller, and Henrik Olesen — Ebner and Müller had originally founded the magazine, together with Hans-Christian Dany and Gunter Reski. For the exhibition at the Volksbühne Pavilion, they have visualized Starship and invited works by artists that have been in the memory or storage of the magazine for varying lengths of time. Seen in terms of theories of relativity, as material objects, they are potential kinetic energy, and therefore, together with their authors, they are the virtual operating power of Starship, which has always also consisted of publishing what it understood as the current and new within its time. The magazine Starship has existed in the near future for twenty years. In its exhibition at LVX, it takes the form of a barn. This is not only because the area around the Volksbühne is known as “Scheunenviertel” (Barn District), but also because this is the shape the Starship builders have developed for their spacecraft as the most economical and suitable for everyday life. In this form, Starship can function as a ‘magazine’ in its meaning as storage, but its parallel function as a spaceship facilitates movements in various time-relative relations. Either way, the barn and the spaceship are a kind of shell for everything they transport; its builders are the Volksbühne workshops.

Curator: Elodie Evers
Curatorial Assistance: Adela Yawitz
Construction Engineer: Sascha Gierth
Construction Manager: Simon Behringer
Technical Director: Stefan Pelz
Fabrication: Volksbühne workshops
Video Engineers: Jens Crull, Mathias Klütz

The exhibition is funded by Senatsverwaltung für Kultur und Europa.
On March 22nd Starship presents a screening of Larry Gottheim’s 1971 Structural film Barn Rushes as well as Klaus Weber’s Das Witzetape (‘the Joke-tape’), which the Berliner artist made in 1995.


Starship. Die Nahe Zukunft

LVX. Pavillon der Volksbühne Berlin

15.3.2019, 19:00–24:00


Live im Grünen Salon: 
19:00 Sir Henry und Herman Hermann, 22:00 Egill Saebjörnsson


Linienstrasse 227, 10178 Berlin
Laufzeit der Ausstellung: 16.03.–16.06.19
Öffnungszeiten: Do–Sa, 14:00–20:00


Eine Installation von Ariane Müller und Martin Ebner, mit Arbeiten von Judith Hopf, Christoph Keller, Henrik Olesen, Gunter Reski, Nina Rhode, Nora Schultz, Till Sperrle, Tobias Spichtig, Suse Weber, Annette Wehrmann und Florian Zeyfang.



Der Glaspavillon neben der Volksbühne ist ein kleiner, aber heller Stern. Das Beiboot des Theatertankers. Mal Kasse, mal Buchladen, mal leerstehend, wurde er zwischenzeitlich immer wieder als unabhängiger Ausstellungsraum betrieben. Ab März 2019 erhält er einmal mehr ein neues Gewand: Als feste Spielstätte des Hauses mit dem Namen LVX und kuratiert von Elodie Evers, stellen hier ab sofort regelmäßig Bildende Künstler*innen und Kollektive aus. Im Gegensatz zur monumentalen Umgebung deutet die transparente Leichtigkeit des Pavillons historisch auf eine offene Architektur, die für die DDR-Stadtplanung in den sechziger Jahren typisch war. Dank seiner nahezu durchsichtigen Erscheinung ist er ein öffentliches Objekt schlechthin, dessen Ausstellungen vor allem den Passanten gewidmet sind. Den Auftakt macht die Berliner Kunstzeitschrift Starship mit einem Blick zurück nach vorn:
1998 in Berlin-Mitte gegründet, existiert sie nunmehr seit über zwanzig Jahren. In ihrer ersten Ausgabe beschrieb sie das Umfeld, in dem sie sich bewegte mit diesen Schlagwörtern: Routinierte Selbstorganisation — halb entworfene Lebensmodelle — vorbeieilende Ökonomie — ausstellbare Selbstbeobachtung — weltläufige Kontakte — Kunst?
Zwanzig Jahre später produziert Starship weiterhin Magazin-Ausgaben, blickt aber auch auf eine lange Tätigkeit als Ausstellungsorganisatorin, Verlegerin und Produzentin zurück. Aus der Gruppe der heutigen Herausgeber*innen Gerry Bibby, Nikola Dietrich, Martin Ebner, Ariane Müller und Henrik Olesen waren Martin Ebner und Ariane Müller neben Hans-Christian Dany und Gunter Reski schon an der Gründung der Zeitschrift beteiligt. Für den Pavillon der Volksbühne haben sie Starship visualisiert und Künstler*innen mit Arbeiten eingeladen, die in unterschiedlicher Dauer im Gedächtnis oder Speicher der Zeitschrift existieren. Im Sinne der Relativitätstheorie sind sie als materielle Objekte potenzielle Bewegungsenergie und damit, gemeinsam mit ihren Autor*innen, der eigentliche Antrieb von Starship, der immer auch darin bestand, zu publizieren, was sie als für ihre Zeit das Aktuelle und Neue verstanden hat.
Die Zeitschrift Starship existiert seit zwanzig Jahren in der nahen Zukunft. Im Rahmen der Ausstellung bei LVX hat sie die Gestalt einer Scheune. Dies nicht nur, weil die Gegend rund um die Volksbühne als Scheunenviertel bekannt ist, sondern auch, weil dies die Form ist, die von den Starship Konstrukteur*innen als die günstigste und alltagstauglichste Raumschiffarchitektur entwickelt wurde. In dieser Gestalt kann Starship als Speicher funktionieren, ermöglicht aber in der parallelen Funktion als Raumschiff verschiedene zeitrelative Bewegungen. In jedem Fall sind die Scheune und das Raumschiff eine Art Hülle für alles, was sie transportieren. Ihre Baumeister*innen sind die Werkstätten der Volksbühne.

Kuratorin: Elodie Evers
Kuratorische Assistenz: Adela Yawitz
Konstruktion: Sascha Gierth
Bauleitung: Simon Behringer
Techn. Direktor: Stefan Pelz
Herstellung: Werkstätten der Volksbühne
Videotechniker: Jens Crull, Mathias Klütz

Die Ausstellung wurde gefördert von der Senatsverwaltung für Kultur und Europa.

Am 22. März präsentiert Starship Larry Gottheims strukturalistischen Film Barn Rushes aus dem Jahr 1971 sowie Das Witzetape des Berliner Künstlers Klaus Weber von 1995.


Linienstrasse 227, 10178 Berlin
Tel. +49 (0)30 240 65 777

15.3.2019, The Near Future: Das Ei zu Besuch
Judith Hopf, Some End of Things: The Conception of Youth
8mm Film, 3.38 min, 2011

15.3.2019, Grüner Salon: Egill Saebjoernsson live

Ian White



An evening dedicated to Ian White’s Kopietheater 1 (2010)

March 16, 2019, Cinema Arsenal 1, 7 pm
Potsdamer Straße 2, Berlin


Klaus Weber, Candle in the light
Rosa Barba, Setting a Performative Frame Between Fact and Fiction
Rainer Bellenbaum, Megan Francis Sullivan, Belladonna
Martin Ebner, In a Sideshow by the Sea
Guillaume Cailleau, Timo Kreuser, Bestimmt
Florian Zeyfang, F66 Geisterschiff (revisited)
Matthew Lutz-Kinoy, Fermentation and The Path of Least Resistance
Sam Williams, a fruiting body/to mate with (not clone) my own arm
Scott Caruth, Untitled
Anja Kirschner, “there is a collective to the extent that an emotion is structured”


The evening will be dedicated to Ian White’s cinema program Kopietheater 1, which took place in 2010 as part of Forum Expanded and showed works by 1 4 participants.
On March 16th contributions by former participants of Kopietheater 1 as well as newly invited artists will activate Ian White’s curatorial instructions, which explored ways in which context and the act of reading can become the material content of our experience in the auditorium.


Ian White – Cinema as a Live Art / Becoming Object

As part of his exploration of Arsenal’s archive between 2008 and 2012, the curator and artist Ian White (1971–2013) compiled two film programs, presented performances and set up several collaborative projects with artists. He considered the cinema and theater stage spaces of possibility and politics, where the relationship between live events and moving images, production and performance, immateriality and objecthood could be renegotiated.

Taking Ian White’s work for Arsenal as an example, Ian White – Cinema as a Live Art / Becoming Object, which will take place on March 15th and 16th at Arsenal and on March 17th in the cupola hall of silent green Kulturquartier, explores the possibility of a retrospective interaction with Ian White’s site-specific, interventionist and queer curatorial and artistic practice with film and performance. At both venues, performances, events and lectures will take place offering individual approaches to Ian White’s work and exploring questions about film as a live event, performance and the possibility of re-performance. Practitioners with diverse backgrounds, whose artistic, curatorial or scholarly work focuses on the relationship between film and performance, were invited to initiate a dialogue with the practice of Ian White. Films from Arsenal’s archive, which had been chosen by Ian White for his performances and programs will be screened at Arsenal and silent green. Posters and a brochure designed by Harald Niessner which documents Ian White’s work for Arsenal between 2008 and 2012 will accompany the program. Ian White – Cinema as a Live Art / Becoming Object was curated by Anne Breimaier and is part of Reflect-Suspend-Dismantle, a year-long program around the work of Ian White, which takes place at various locations in Berlin, and is delivered in collaboration with curator Kirsty Bell, KW Institute for Contemporary Art, DAAD Artists-in-Berlin Program, and the Estate of Ian White.

The program will open with a film evening at Arsenal on 15th March.
Kirsty Bell will introduce GENTLEMEN (2003), a film by artists Oliver Payne and Nick Relph, narrated by Ian White: a portrait of London and its youth culture, both on the verge of extinction. We will then screen shorts by Karola Schlegelmilch (BAUCHLANDUNG, G 1991), Klaus Telscher (HER MONA, G 1992), Hellmuth Costard (BESONDERS WERTVOLL, FRG 1968), Peter Weiss (STUDIE IV (FRIGÖRELSE), Sweden 1954) and Robyn Brentano & Andrew Horn (CLOUD DANCE, USA/FRG 1980), which were shown as part of Ian White’s “Trauerspiel 1” performance at HAU 1 (Hebbel am Ufer) on March 13th 2012. “Trauerspiel 1”, Ian White’s only theater production, was performed together with Ingolf Sander-Lahr and comprised of five dances which alternated with five film projections. The performance resulted from Ian White’s exploration of Arsenal’s film archive and his reading of Walter Benjamin’s book “Ursprung des deutschen Trauerspiels” (The Origin of German Tragic Drama, 1925). It was performed in the framework of an evening titled “A Shared Stage of Contingent Production”, alongside a performance by Johannes Paul Raether.

The evening of March 16th at Arsenal will be dedicated to Ian White’s cinema program “Kopietheater 1”, which took place in 2010 as part of Forum Expanded and showed works by 14 participants. On March 16th contributions by former participants of “Kopietheater 1” as well as newly invited artists will activate Ian White’s curatorial instructions, which explored ways in which context and the act of reading can become the material content of our experience in the auditorium With contributions by Rosa Barba, Rainer Bellenbaum, Martin Ebner, Matthew Lutz-Kinoy, Sam Williams, Klaus Weber, Florian Zeyfang, and others.

The one-day program of March 17th at silent green is dedicated to Ian White’s film and performance program “It’s Not The Homosexual Who Is Perverse, But The Situation In Which He Lives: Art, Cinema and Context Now” which he curated in 2008/9 as Arsenal’s first DAAD film curator in residence. The program took place at Arsenal, Tanya Leighton gallery and the lab.oratory sex club. Films by Rosa von Praunheim, Danièle Huillet/Jean-Marie Straub and Richard Serra, shown originally in these different places, will be accompanied by performances by young artists, who responded to a call for participation to explore Ian White’s work. NICHT DER HOMOSEXUELLE IST PERVERS, SONDERN DIE GESELLSCHAFT IN DER ER LEBT (Rosa von Praunheim, FRG 1971): The story of Daniel, who arrives in the big city and walks through all stages in the life of a gay man in the 1970s is accompanied by a warning voice heard off-screen and extracts of interviews.
OTHON (Danièle Huillet, Jean-Marie Straub, F/FRG/I 1970) is a literal adaptation of the play by Pierre Corneille, which was first staged in 1664. The film was shot in the original locations. In five acts, it tells a story of love and power in ancient Rome. In 1968, Richard Serra filmed his own hands carrying out various actions in four shorts. The way that he staged his hands according to Rosalind Krauss is a direct reference to the medium of film, while at the same time a filmic emphasis of his own artistic potency.

Between the screenings accompanied by performances, scholars and curators will give short impromptu presentations that will reflect on Ian White’s historically informed and art critical practice. (ab)

A seminar ticket for all three events is availbale for €16 (only silent green: €12) at the Arsenal box office.
Part of the “Archive außer sich” project.

BeAUtIes Of The NIgHT

SO 3.3.19
Future Sounds Of The Happy Disenfranchised: BeAUtIes Of The NIgHT & More
Club 20h Concert

The mysterious Viennese artist noise impro band known only as BeAUtIes Of The NIgHT returns to Berlin to support their most recent release „Use Filters“ on Vienna’s qed label, as well as their brand new tape release „Youtube Classics Vol. 1“, released on Ratrights. The night will be opened by the Berlin band Van Urrgh playing loud secrets. DJ Team Zigaretten Rauchen (starship magazine etc.) will provide excellent DJ duties as well.


BEaUtiES of thE NiGhT
Van Urrgh
DJ Team Zigaretten Rauchen

BEaUtiES of thE NiGhT
… strive for an intense and noisy embrace of the audience, composing its outfits rather than its song structures, songwriting or rehearsing. It seems that no matter what comes into their minds on stage, evil noise rock results. In very pointed and significant ways Beauties of the Night approach the genre-specific problem related to any kind of rock music – namely, the problem of desiring portrayal and representation, while at the same time wanting to erase both in order to achieve a breakthrough to the authentic.

Members: Christian Egger,voc/dr, Manuel Gorkiewicz, git/voc, Markus Krottendorfer, b/voc, Alexander Wolff, git/voc.

Van Urrgh
… play loud secrets
Ivar van Urk, guit, Stefan Müller, drums, Manfred Peckl, voice

DJ Team Zigaretten Rauchen
Martin Ebner, Ariane Müller

Starship 18 – Restaurant Beograd

Starship ist 20 Jahre alt und wir freuen uns auf die
Präsentation in Wien
Mit Arbeiten von Calla Henkel und Max Pitegoff, Martin Ebner, Michele di Menna,
Klara Liden und Eric D. Clark.
und einer Lesung von Karl Holmqvist
im Restaurant Beograd, 1040 Wien, Schikanedergasse 7

Mittwoch, 30. Jänner 2019, ab 19:00

Karl Holmqvist





A new poem celebrating 20 years of Starship

Starship No. 18 release – VERY

On Sunday January 13. 2019, please feel invited to the release of Starship No. 18, and twenty years of Starship.
With the magazine freshly back from print we host a release party with films, artwork, and music connected to this issue at VERY, an exhibition venue in Berlin, Wedding.

Sonntag, den 13.1.2019, zum Erscheinen des 18. Starship Magazins und gleichzeitig der Feier des zwanzigjährigen Bestehens von Starship veranstalten wir eine Party mit Filmen, Kunst und Musik rund um diese Ausgabe der Zeitschrift in VERY, einem Ausstellungsort in Berlin, Wedding. Wir laden dazu herzlich ein.

Starship Release: 13.1. 2019 16:00 -21:00
Badstraße 66, Hinterhof
13357 Berlin

Videoarbeiten von Klara Liden, Calla Henkel & Max Pitegoff, Michele di Menna und Martin Ebner
Eric D. Clark präsentiert die EP ”Musix’ Lost Its Colour” (2018) und das Musikvideo zum Track von Martin Ebner.

Starship No. 18: 148 pages, color, English/German, 8 €, abroad 10 € ($ 12)

„Gibt es Communities? Gibt es Geister? Lass dich testen!”

Contributors to Starship No. 18:
Ei Arakawa, Tenzing Barshee, John Beeson, Gerry Bibby, David Bussel, Eric D. Clark, Sarah Chow, Jay Chung, Hans-Christian Dany, Timothy Davies, Nikola Dietrich, Martin Ebner, Stephanie Fezer, Christian Flamm, Simone Gilges, Julian Göthe, Martin Guttmann, Richard Hawkins, Calla Henkel, Toni Hildebrandt, Karl Holmqvist, Lisa Holzer, Stephan Janitzky, Jakob Kolding, Lars Bang Larsen, Klara Liden, Carla Lonzi, Sebastian Lütgert, Robert Meijer, Michele di Menna, Ariane Müller, Christopher Müller, Robert M. Ochshorn, Henrik Olesen, Max Pitegoff, Puppies Puppies, Gunter Reski, Mark von Schlegell, Max Schmidtlein, Vera Tollmann, Voin de Voin, Adrian Williams, Amelie von Wulffen, Florian Zeyfang

Editors: Gerry Bibby, Nikola Dietrich, Martin Ebner, Ariane Müller, Henrik Olesen

VERY is a temporary project space in Berlin Gesundbrunnen run by Silva Agostini, Dirk Bell, Mariechen Danz, Sarah Schönfeld, Nils Peterson, Anna Zett

As an entry point to the magazine we would also like to point out Michele di Menna’s exhibition: The bells put out their tongues at Beach Office, Leipziger Str. 61/62, two days earlier, on Friday, January 11th.

Für eine Art Vorschau auf diese Ausgabe wollen wir auch auf Michele di Mennas Ausstellung: The bells put out their tongues, hinweisen, die am 11. 1. 2019 um 19:00 in Beach Office, Leipziger Str. 61/62 zu sehen sein wird.

Eric D. Clark – Musix‘ lost it’s Colour

Musix‘ lost it’s Colour
experimental music video, 5 min 39 sec, 2018

Video by Martin Ebner
Track: Eric D. Clark – Musix‘ lost it’s Colour
Model „World Receiver“: Isa Genzken
Font by cabine.co.uk
SUBCURRENT media 2018


Cut-Up 16.12.
Bonnie Camplin
Starship Magazin
Eric D. Clark


Sonntag, 16. Dezember, 19 Uhr

Kölnischer Kunstverein
Hahnenstraße 6
50667 Köln

Filmscreening und Talk mit Bonnie Camplin /
Starship Magazin /
Record Release “Music Lost Its Colour” mit Eric D. Clark
(in englischer Sprache)

Ein psychoakustisch urbanistischer Abend mit audiovisuellen Präsentationen von Starship, Bonnie Camplin und Eric D. Clark.

“Heygate for Life” (2011), ein Film von Bonnie Camplin und Vortrag über Verbindungslinien zwischen Brion Gysin, John C. Lilly and Aug Tellez.

Eine Preview der neuesten Ausgabe der Berliner Kunstzeitschrift Starship: #18 “Gibt es Communities, gibt es Geister? Lass dich testen!” mit den Herausgebern Ariane Müller, Nikola Dietrich, Gerry Bibby, Martin Ebner und Henrik Olesen.
Videoarbeiten von Klara Liden, Calla Henkel & Max Pitegoff, Michele di Menna, Martin Ebner und eine Installation von Timothy Davies.

Eric D. Clark präsentiert die EP ”Musix’ Lost Its Colour” (2018) und das Musikvideo zum Track von Martin Ebner.
Begleitet von einem Vortrag “Etymological Deconstruction Cyclicals of Musix’ lost colour” über Aspekte der Synästhesie und einer Soundinstallation von Jasmin Matthies und Dave Carbone (Caribic Residency).

Die Veranstaltung findet in englischer Sprache statt und wir weisen darauf hin, dass die Veranstaltung gefilmt wird.
Eintritt 4,00 € / ermäßigt 2,00 €, für Mitglieder frei.

Bild: Starship #18

Filmscreening and Talk with Bonnie Camplin /
Starship magazine /
Record Release Musix’ Lost Its Colour with Eric D.Clark

A psychoacoustic urbanistic evening with audiovisual presentations by Bonnie Camplin, Starship, and Eric D. Clark.

“Heygate for Life” (2011), a film by Bonnie Camplin and a talk on points of connection between Brion Gysin, John C. Lilly and Aug Tellez.

A preview of the latest issue of the Berlin art magazine Starship: #18 “Gibt es Communities, gibt es Geister? Lass dich testen!” with the co-publishers Ariane Müller, Nikola Dietrich, Gerry Bibby, Martin Ebner, and Henrik Olesen.
Screenings of video works by Klara Liden, Calla Henkel & Max Pitegoff, Michele di Menna, Martin Ebner, and a installation by Timothy Davies.

Eric D. Clark presents the EP “Music Lost Its Colour” (2018) and the music video for the track by Martin Ebner.
Accompanied by the lecture ”Etymological Deconstruction Cyclicals of Musix’ lost colour” about aspects of synesthesia, together with a sound installation by Jasmin Matthies and Dave Carbone (Caribic Residency).

Please note that the event will take place in English and will be filmed.
Admission €4 / concessions €2. Free for members.

Image: Starship #18

Martin Ebner, Chiara Minchio – Gallery Dalston, Tokyo


Martin Ebner(マーティン・エブナー)(ドイツ在住、オーストリア出身)とChiara Minchio(キアーラ・ミンチョー)(ドイツ在住、イタリア出身)による展覧会


2018年11月3日(土)18:00~21:00 オープニングパーティーを開催いたします。






Martin Ebner, Chiara Minchio
Gallery Dalston, Tokyo

Opening, November 3,2018, 6-9 p.m.
exhibition open Sat and Sun 12-7 p.m.
until Dec 2, 2018

In their collaborative exhibition Martin Ebner and Chiara Minchio refer to the special urban situation and structural change of the Sumida-ku district. Where not long ago plenty of small family based shops and craft producers were to be found at ground level, nowadays this space is more increasingly used as parking garage, or even as a young art gallery.
Through the „paradoxical“ reworking of a traditional japanese Kimono dress into rectangle format, Chiara Minchio’s work exemplifies the transformation of the refined everyday costume into the realms of abstraction and painting, whereas Martin Ebner’s video work examines the the psychological dimension of the private car and its changed, contemporary facial expression.
In this minimalist installation, Kimono, cars, and the Japanese house are forming an interfering triangle constellation, which will be especially visible in the night hours for the accidental passerby.

Martin Ebner (Austria)
Studies of Visual Media, lives in Berlin

Chiara Minchio (Italy)
Studies of Painting, lives in Berlin

Gallery Dalston
1 Chome-11-2 Tatekawa, Sumida-ku, Tōkyō-to 130-0023, Japan

Martin Ebner, Drop Car
Installation video, 16 min, 2018
Sound by Theresa Patzschke / Martin Ebner

Exhibition made possible with friendly support by
Austrian Cultural Forum Tokyo
1-1-20 Moto Azabu, Minato-ku
Tokyo, 106-0046 Japan

A secret base of dogs




Starship Screenings at the Pool 2
No Bum Bum
Sunday, 2.9.2018, 2.00–4.00 pm

Short films, music, bananes flambées at the end of the season,
compiled by Martin Ebner and Theresa Patzschke.

Works by Robert Ashley, Babette Mangolte & Lucinda Childs, Toshio Matsumoto, Steina, Peter Halley, Fischli/Weiss, Robert Breer.

Martin Ebner & Theresa Patzschke: Bananes flambées (fragment)
Summer 2018

TROPEZ at Sommerbad Humboldthain
Wiesenstraße 1, 13357 Berlin

Then I would like to make a happy end for once

Then I would like to make a happy end for once

Kunstverein Nürnberg – Albrecht Dürer Gesellschaft e.V.
Kressengartenstraße 2
D-90402 Nürnberg

06. Juli bis 09. September 2018
Eröffnung: Do 05. Juli 2018, 19 Uhr
Opening: Thurs July 05 2018, 7 pm

Then I would like to make a happy end for once ist die für den Kunstverein Nürnberg entstandene Ausstellung eines Dialogs zwischen der Fotografin Verena Kathrein und der bildenden Künstlerin und Autorin Ariane Müller, der vor zwei Jahren in Rom begann. Mit aus diesem Gespräch entwickelten, aber aus verschiedenen Medien kommenden Bildern spinnt sich dieser Dialog fort. Inhaltlich wird dem von der italienischen Feministin Carla Lonzi formulierten Wunsch nachgegangen, dass der Feminismus beim nächsten Mal keine Tragödie sein möge, sondern eine Komödie.

In diesem Sinn geht es in der Ausstellung vor allem um Auswege. Einen Ausweg zu finden wird entlang des Begriffs des Separatismo untersucht, mit dem der italienische Feminismus eine Bewegung angedacht hatte, alles, Kunst, Politik, Psychoanalyse etc. einfach zu verlassen, statt sich ewig mit und in diesen Feldern, die jahrhundertelang Strategien erdacht hatten, um Frauen auszuschließen, behaupten zu wollen. Diese Bewegung trifft sich mit dem Ziel, das auch die neapolitanische Komödienfigur Pulcinella bestimmt. Dieser Figur hat der italienische Philosoph Giorgio Agamben ein Buch gewidmet, das gleichfalls Ausgangspunkt der Ausstellung ist. Auch Pulcinella versucht, das Drama, in dem ihm gar kein Handlungsrahmen eingeräumt wird und in dem er nur an und mit sich teilnimmt, so schnell es geht zu verlassen. Diese Suche nach einem Ausweg ermöglicht es jedoch, dass nicht nur er sich selbst rettet, sondern auch die, die zuvor als handelnde Akteure auftraten.

Then I would like to make a happy end for once schließt sich der Suche dieser zwei Figuren an, etwas zu finden, das, wie das Lachen oder das Weinen, am äußersten Rand der Sprache liegt. Dort, wo es zu komisch wird, als dass man es sagen könnte oder zu traurig, als dass man es aussprechen kann.


Weitere Veranstaltungen

Mi 11.07.2018, 18 Uhr

Mi 18.07.2018, 19 Uhr
Künstlerinnengespräch mit Ariane Müller

So 29.07.2018, 15 Uhr