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Keybot 12 Résultats  db-artmag.de
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In einer Art Inversion setzt sich diese Architektur dann im Atrium des Gebäudes fort. Hier ragen konvexe Kegel, unregelmäßige Pyramiden, schlanke Schäfte und kugelige Wülste empor. Es handelt sich dabei um jene Formen, die aus dem architektonischen „Körper“ der Einbauten in der Halle entfernt wurden.
The architecture is then continued into the atrium of the building in a kind of inversion. Here, concave cones, irregular pyramids, slender shafts, and rotund growths rise up, the very forms from the additions of the architectonic “body” in the exhibition hall. Zaha Hadid’s concept is so complex that it would have been unthinkable without the aid of modern technology. Only ten years ago, a design of this kind would never have come about simply because the necessary programs hadn’t yet been written; nor did computers exist that were capable of handling the vast amounts of data.
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Die Bilder ragen weit in Mythologien hinein und erscheinen trotz der schamlosen Eindeutigkeiten verrätselt. Beinahe könnte man den Blick an der ornamentalen Schönheit der Formen abgleiten lassen. Man kann die fehlenden Hinweise aber auch als Aufforderung verstehen, Fragen unbeantwortet mit sich zu nehmen.
The images are deeply embedded in mythologies and thus seem enigmatic, despite their shameless and explicit contents. One could almost let the gaze wander idly along the ornamental beauty of the silhouettes. However, the lack of clues can also be understood as an invitation to leave questions unanswered. It is more than just the motif that links Walker's images to the folktale: there are also the combination of humor and solemnity, the knowing indirectness, the open ends. Like the folktale's narrator, she has not experienced what she is telling. But who can prove to possess the right interpretation?
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Ein surreales Szenario auf dem Londoner Trafalgar Square: rund um die Nelson-Säule liegen riesige Baumstümpfe. Wie Nervenenden ragen ihre weit verzweigten Wurzeln in die Luft. Ob man sie nun als Skulpturen betrachtet oder als Symbole für die rasant fortschreitende Zerstörung der Natur – kaum ein Passant kann sich dieser Installation entziehen.
A surreal scenario on Trafalgar Square in London: large tree stumps are spread out around Nelson’s Column. Like nerve endings, their widely ramified roots protrude into the air. Whether they are viewed as sculptures or as symbols for the rapidly progressing destruction of nature – passersby are compelled to take note of the installation. Angela Palmer called her project Ghost Forest. The British artist couldn’t have found a more apt title for her project, whose main sponsor is Deutsche Bank. The ten tree stumps, which stem from a rainforest in Ghana, indeed look like ghosts, like the spirits of giant trees that once rose as high as Nelson’s Column only to end up as raw material for cabinets, flooring or coffins.
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Auf dem Parkplatz davor ein weißer Pickup in der unbarmherzigen Mittagssonne. Eine einsame Palme und ein Flaggenmast mit schlaff herabhängendem Sternenbanner ragen in die Höhe. Es ist ein typisch amerikanisches Motiv, das Ralph Goings auf seinem 1970 entstandenen Gemälde McDonalds Pickup festgehalten hat.
A McDonalds branch on a highway somewhere in the American South; in a parking lot out front, a white pickup truck in the merciless noon sun. Projecting vertically are a lonely palm tree and a flagpole with the Stars and Stripes hanging limp. It's a typical American motif that Ralph Goings depicted in his painting from 1970 titled McDonalds Pickup. Yet despite this, his hyperrealist work seems strangely ambiguous: not a single person can be seen, either in the parking lot or in the fast-food restaurant. Not a single car on the street, not even a discarded hamburger wrapping. The square format shows a purified, nearly clinical version of reality and offers up the McDonald's branch as a symbol for a thoroughly homogenized American society.
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Trockel jedenfalls hat bereits 1994 mit ihrer Videoarbeit Continental Divide einen Kommentar zur Frage abgeliefert, wer denn der beste Künstler sei. In ihrem Film tritt die Künstlerin mit einer Doppelgängerin auf, eingezwängt in einen "Schizo-Pullover", aus dem zwei identische Köpfe ragen.
Whatever the case may be, Trockel's1994 video work Continental Divide provided a commentary on the question of who the best artist is. In it, Trockel appears with a double; both of them are stuffed into a "Schizo Sweater" out of which two identical heads protrude. Throughout the film, Trockel and her alter ego discuss the ranking and fight over which of the two has a right to the laurels. Eventually, the visitor can hardly tell what's going on anymore, partly because the game's contenders, dressed in costumes and wigs, are shot diagonally from above, half-submerged in shadow; after a while, it's no longer possible to make out which of the two is the real Trockel.
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Einen jungen Mann aus dem Volk der Roma zeigt sie beim Akkordeonspiel vor den Hochhauskulissen Frankfurts. Seine wehmütigen "Zigeunermelodien" bilden einen akustischen Kontrapunkt zu den kühlen Finanztürmen, die hinter ihm in den Himmel ragen.
On the streets of New York, she secretly photographs the backs of pedestrians’ heads: Frankfurt-based artist Tamara Grcic shows close-ups of an area of our bodies we can only see in the mirror. Hair curls wildly over necks and spills over collars. The artist films the backs of boxers training with a sack of sand – close-up, showing only the play of muscles beneath skin glistening with sweat, accompanied by the sound of the men groaning and their blows hitting home. Or she shows a young Romany man playing accordion before a backdrop of Frankfurt’s skyscrapers. His melancholic "gypsy melodies" form an acoustic antipode to the cool financial towers rising high into the sky behind him. With her photographs, films, and installations, Tamara Grcic isolates parts of reality and succeeds in winnowing out a new, often poetic presence.
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Nur langsam erkennt man das filigrane, auf eine Plastikleinwand collagierte Motiv: eine einbeinige, sich krümmende Cyborg-Frau, der statt einer Nase Arme aus dem Gesicht ragen, während ihre Gliedmaßen aus Motorrädern zusammensetzt sind.
Upon entering Wangechi Mutu’s studio, one immediately feels that overwhelming sensation of opening a box with an impossible jigsaw puzzle. Cutouts from magazines, mostly of female body parts, litter the space like trading tickets on a stock exchange floor. Animal hides hang from the wall less than sportingly and an Affalo horn dangles from a hook, its sheen somehow rendered worn-out by the unrolled sheets of iridescent Mylar stretching along the tables and floors. It’s a veritable mess of images, objects, and materials. But then, one of Mutu’s near-finished works literally glares out from the wall where it is hung, and a consummation, although equally puzzling, occurs: a one-legged, contorted cyborg-woman, with arms for a nose and motorcycles for limbs, rivets out from a plastic “canvas.”
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Bekannt wurden sie mit erstklassig ausgeführten Glasfaser- und Kunstharzskulpturen von nackten Kindern in Nike-Turnschuhen, die an den unwahrscheinlichsten Stellen mit einander verwachsen sind und denen an noch unwahrscheinlicheren Stellen Geschlechtsteile aus dem Körper ragen.
The pillars of their work are shock effects and corny jokes, and their most important aesthetic strategy is to simply lower the boom. They made a name for themselves with first-rate fiberglass and resin sculptures of naked children wearing Nike tennis shoes who are joined together in the most improbable places and from whose bodies genitals jut out in even more improbable places. These sculptures bear titles such as Fuck Face (1994) and Two-faced Cunt (1995). Other works depict decomposing skeletons covered with flies, worms, and snakes, inspired by Goya's drawing cycle Los desastres de la Guerra (1810-1820). That the Chapman's additionally auctioned off two volumes from 1937 with original editions of these etchings and adorned them with Mickey Mouse faces, insect antennae, and swastikas, caused an outrage. The list of affronts, obscenities, and cynicisms in the Chapmans' extensive work goes on and on.
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Nigel Cookes grausam schöne Landschaftsgemälde gleichen den Momentaufnahmen einer finalen Survival- Show, nur dass die Kandidaten ein für alle Mal verloren haben und niemand sie hier raus holen kann. Die Szenerie erinnert an eine bizarre Version von Becketts Endspiel: Eingebettet in den verstreuten Schutt der Kultur- und Naturgeschichte, ragen Köpfe von Menschen aus dem Boden.
Yesterday's civilizational refuse provides a fertile ground for future worlds. Nigel Cooke's cruelly beautiful landscape paintings resemble snapshots of some ultimate survival show in which the candidates have lost their way for good; this is a place nobody's going to be able to pull them out of any more. The scenery looks like a bizarre version of Beckett's Endgame: human heads are jutting up out of the ground, stuck in the scattered rubbish of cultural and natural history. Each one is a prototype of a young, hip media culture, and somehow looks like a star. Instead of populating the streets of Brixton, Williamsburg, or Kreuzberg, though, they're popping up out of the ground like bizarre heads of cabbage in paintings called Don't Mess with my Message (2002) - chopped clean off, bodiless, or proliferating with eyes and mouths wide open and facial muscles frozen in expressions conveying little more than an endurance of the inevitable.
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Immer wieder blitzen Kameras und Fotohandys. Die rund eine Tonne schwere Metallröhre muss auf acht kleinen Metallzapfen platziert werden, die aus dem Betonfundament ragen. Das in sich gedrehte, neun Meter lange Objekt so zu platzieren, dass die Löcher in seiner Bodenplatte passgenau auf die Zapfen aufgesetzt werden können, ist nicht leicht.
This evening, it’s precision work on Tauentzienstrasse. Spotlights bathe the construction site in bright light as the last section of the sculpture Berlin is slowly lowered by a crane. A crowd of passersby watches the rebuilding of one of the capital’s trademarks. Camera and cell phone cameras flash everywhere as the heavy metal tube, which weighs around a ton, is placed on eight small metal pins sticking out of the cement foundation. It’s no easy task to place the thirty-foot object in such a way that the holes in its base plate fit perfectly onto the pins. The distance to the already installed section of the work has to be checked constantly. Shortly after 6 p.m., the work is complete: the last of the four tubes is in place, and the sculpture is back in its original location diagonally opposite Europa Center. It was the second elaborate move of a work of art from the Deutsche Bank Collection this year. In September, Max Bill’s monumental sculpture Continuity(1986) was erected on the new green next to the Deutsche Bank Towers in Frankfurt.
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Hier wird der Schauplatz Museum zum "totalen Theater" (Kabakov), zur melancholischen Zeitreise: Als Hommage ans 19. Jahrhundert stehen überdimensionale Hosenbeine vor überdimensionalen Bildfragmenten, die als golden gerahmte Zitate bürgerlicher Salonmalerei aus einem Spalt in der Decke ragen.
For Emilia and Ilya Kabakov, utopia is something that's been lost, particularly in their memories of the Soviet Union. The Russian artist couple, who live in New York, have installed their Gesamtkunstwerk Where is our place? in the elegant rooms of the Fondazione Querini Stampalia, where, according to the concept, people can get together with giants and dwarves ( images). Here, the museum setting is transformed into "total theater" (Kabakov), a melancholic journey in time: as an homage to the 19th century, larger-than-life pants legs are standing before oversized picture fragments jutting out of a crack in the ceiling, gold-framed quotes from bourgeois salon painting: the overwhelming past that continues to force itself into the present's gaze. In contrast, tiny landscapes with abandoned villages are let into the floor as a model of "a world we can know nothing about because it withdraws from our perception, like the future." At eye level, on the other hand, the viewer is confronted with photographs from the eighties –everyday Socialist life, idyllic military scenes, culture, and technology in the early phase of Perestroika. For Emilia and Ilya Kabakov, this series of images is nothing more than proof of time's ephemerality, already as long forgotten as the Czarist Russia of the oil paintings. Thus, although all three layers overlap like a historical puzzle, the corresponding worlds nonetheless remain separate from one another. In a gentle and slightly sentimental way, Where is our place? tells us that even our own personal standpoint is not spared from transience in the memory's general "allover."