SAC Journal 3: Garden State by A A D R

GARDEN STATE: CINEMATIC SPACE AND CHOREOGRAPHIC TIME

GARDEN STATE - Cinematic Space and Choreographic Time is the third issue of the SAC JOURNAL and explores the garden as a utopia wherein time and space may be thought of in architectural terms yet not easily deciphered against architecture’s traditions and practices. The garden herein is a changeable and vulnerable condition, embodying the ephemerality of life, which in turn contrasts with the customary expectations of architecture’s longevity. However, Garden State also engages with the contemporary arts, specifically video, cinema and ballet, and with it time and space open up with new, fragile dimensions. A choreographic framework emerges which is at once more precise yet loose, more responsive yet open, than that space architecture normally engenders. Choreographed movement differs from that prescribed by the calculable paths so often invoked in the spatial syntax of latter-day architecture. The garden emerges as a state, in all its social glory, a realm that we already occupy but perhaps never can own? Contributors to this issue include: Daniel Birnbaum, Horst Bredekamp, William Forsythe, Hu Fang, Douglas Gordon, Damjan Jovanovic, Sanford Kwinter, Philippe Pirotte, Louise Neri, Tobias Rehberger, Julia Voss, Mark Wigley and Johan Bettum. Also included are the three finalist projects for 2014 SAC AIV Master Thesis Prize. SAC JOURNAL is a publication series that addresses topical issues within architecture. The journal documents, critically reviews and also presents theoretical discussions concerning contemporary design and research. The content of SAC JOURNAL is produced by invited national and international contributors and students and faculty at the Städelschule Architecture Class. © SAC JOUR N A L is published one to two times per year by the Städelschule Architecture Class (Frankfurt) and AADR – Art Architecture Design Research (Spurbuch Verlag).

GARDEN STATE CINEMATIC SPACE AND CHOREOGRAPHIC TIME

ISBN 978 – 3 – 88778 – 430 – 0 ISSN 2198 – 3216

STÄD EL SCH U LE A RCH I T EC T U RE CLASS

DANIEL BIRNBAUM HO RST BREDEKAMP WILLIAM FORSY THE art architecture design research ISBN 978-3-88778-430-0

AADR publishes innovative artistic, creative and historical research in art, architecture, design and related fields. www.aadr.info

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DOUGLAS GORDON S A N F O R D KW I N T ER LO U I S E N ER I PHILIPPE PIROTTE TOBIAS REHBERGER MARK WIGLEY ... AND MORE

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GARDEN STATE CINEMATIC SPACE AND CHOREOGRAPHIC TIME

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CONTENTS

4 EDITORIAL

GARDEN STATE CINEMATOGRAPHIC SPACE AND CHOREOGRAPHIC TIME

ESSAY DAMJAN JOVANOVIC

THE GARDEN IN THE MACHINE A STORY OF ARCHITECTURAL MEDIUMS

106

LIVES IN UTOPIA BETWEEN NO PLACE AND A GOOD PLACE

FORMS OF LIFE - LIFE OF FORMS THE WORK OF SEBASTIAN STÖHRER

108

LABYRINTHS IN TIME, GARDEN STATES

CERAMICS

118

MOVEMENT, STILLNESS AND THE CHOREOGRAPHIC OBJECT

THE GRAMMAR OF THE INEFFABLE

INTRODUCTION JOHAN BETTUM

ESSAY DANIEL BIRNBAUM

CONVERSATION WITH WILLIAM FORSYTHE

ESSAY LOUISE NERI

‘NOTHING IS INNOCENT:’ BUNGALOW GERMANIA – BIRDS, BONN 1964

52 ESSAY HORST BREDEKAMP

HERRENHAUSEN AND THE LANDSCAPED GARDEN: TWO ROUTES TO MODERNITY

ESSAY PHILIPPE PIROTTE

KERRY JAMES MARSHALL'S PAINTERLY REFLECTIONS ON THE IDYLLIC

ESSAY HU FANG

TOWARDS A NON - INTENTIONAL SPACE

INTERVIEW WITH TOBIAS REHBERGER BY JULIA VOSS

I TRY TO GET ALONG WELL WITH PLANTS

ESSAY DANIEL BIRNBAUM

PORTFOLIO SEBASTIAN STÖHRER

ESSAY JOHAN BETTUM

137 INTRODUCTION

THE AIV MASTER THESIS PRIZE

138 AIV PRIZE DAMJAN JOVANOVIC

RUNNING ON RANDOM SPECULATIVE GARDEN

152

AIV HONOURABLE MENTION SOPHIA PASSBERGER

GROWTH AND CHANGE LIVING FORMATIONS

162

AIV HONOURABLE MENTION VASILY SITNIKOV

BIO- ELECTRONICAL FORMWORK SOLID NETWORK

172

IMAGE AND PROJECT CREDITS

174 COLOPHON

CONVERSATION BETWEEN DOUGLAS GORDON, DANIEL BIRNBAUM AND JOHAN BETTUM

THE SPACE, TIME AND CONSPIRACY OF CIRCUMSTANCE IN DOUGLAS GORDON’S WORK

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EDITORIAL

GARDEN STATE CINEMATOGRAPHIC SPACE AND CHOREOGRAPHIC TIME Gardens are at once architectural and not. Poised somewhere between the natural and the artificial, the domesticated and the wild, gardens serve as a powerful metaphor for utopian ideas, paradise, as well as loss. They harbour veiled crimes, surreptitious affairs, playful games and the adjournment of our daily toil. In their various typological forms, as urban oases, modest extensions to domestic space or palatial symbols of power, gardens are the site of sedate life, quixotic dreams and calm reflection. In the face of environmental crisis where our fears and hopes are cast against enormous human-made and natural forces, the ambiguity of the garden is all the more alluring for artistic and architectural speculations. During the academic year 2013-14, SAC’s second-year group, Architecture and Aesthetic Practice (AAP), explored this ambiguity. The group, led by Städelschule professors Daniel Birnbaum and Johan Bettum, teamed up with the choreographer ensemble Mamaza to realise their project, Garden State, which premiered early 2014 in a Frankfurt art centre. 1 MAMAZA ushered in the idea and practice of choreography at the heart of AAP’s experimental inquiry into the space and time of gardens. Birnbaum, in a series of seminars that explored paradoxes of time and space in art and philosophy, supplemented the experimental journey with the notions of cinematographic space and choreographic time. Against the backdrop of the garden, select ideas in art and philosophy became the vehicle for addressing evasive and non-linear constructs of social and political life or, quite simply, our existence.

This issue of the SAC Journal presents the project, Garden State, together with the ideas and work of invited contributors whose deliberations are less a reflection on garden typologies than experiments suspended between the past and the future, between social and cultural utopias, and artistic and architectural visions. Daniel Birnbaum, who is the director of the Museum of Modern Art in Stockholm, sets the huge thematic ambitions of the issue adrift when he addresses Labyrinths in Time, Garden States through a selection of art works that are at once multifaceted and provocative in how they set out time and space in a labyrinthine and sometimes horticultural fashion. Birnbaum also introduces the artist Sebastian Stöhrer’s fascinating sculptures, featured in a portfolio herein. To further explore the disciplinary relation between choreography and architecture, SAC hosted a conversation with the world-renowned choreographer, dancer and artist William Forsythe in conjunction with the opening of the 14th Architecture Biennial in Venice. The event was a collaboration with the Goethe-Institute and convened Forsythe in conversation with the theorists Sanford Kwinter and Mark Wigley on the fringe of the Biennial’s busy opening. Daniel Birnbaum and Johan Bettum attended the stimulating and humorous talk which is featured herein. Forsythe was in Venice for the performance of his project, Birds, Bonn 1964, set in the German Pavilion in the Giardini. 2

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The project was remarkable for how it activated the much addressed architecture of the pavilion in the context of the Venetian garden by exploiting Alex Lehnerer and Savva Ciriacidis’ part reconstruction of the German Chancellor’s Bungalow in Bonn – a building completed in 1964 by architect Sep Ruf and which served as the German chancellor’s residence until 1999.3 Birds, Bonn 1964 is never to be performed again. However, Louise Neri, the director of the Gagosian Gallery in New York, which counts Forsythe amongst its artists, reviews the unique project. The art historian Horst Bredekamp accounts for another extraordinary yet much older garden history, which took place at Herrenhausen in Hanover, where the philosopher Gottfried Leibniz served his nobility while developing exceptional ideas relating to our experience and creative thought. For Leibniz, the garden was a medium for thinking, and Bredekamp unfolds a remarkable history and in the process demonstrates that the landscape and Baroque gardens were less oppositional to one another than variants on ‘principles associated with incipient modernism.’ The essay has been penned, based on Bredekamp’s astounding German book, Leibniz und die Revolution der Gartenkunst. 4 Philippe Pirotte, an art historian and the dean of the Städelschule, addresses the dominating imagery regimes in Western art history when he discusses the work of the American artist, Kerry-James Marshall. Various painting series in Marshall’s oeuvre use the garden in public housing projects to portray African-American life and history. Pirotte’s reading of the ‘idealised notion of the (rural) idyll’ and the utopian garden scenes in Marshall’s work is a powerful critique of the role of inherited images in Western culture. In Towards a Non-Intentional Space, fiction writer, art critic and curator, Hu Fang, gives a most personal account of Mirrored Gardens, a project that connects the spatial archetypes of the Chinese garden and a (re-)emerging form of the European “farm-garden” which integrates its ecological manifold in a single, dynamical whole. Fang teamed up with the architect Sou Fujimoto to bring about Mirrored Gardens, a countryside arts venue at a former farm on the outskirts of Guangzhou in China. Fang renders the context and motivation behind the project and describes his ambitions ‘to construct a “field” where contemporary art, daily life and farming-oriented life practices can merge and flow together.’ As one of the leading contemporary German artists, Städelschule professor Tobias Rehberger has produced numerous gardens as well as objects and installations that are set in gardens. His intelligent and often humorous art defies strict categorisation, yet his “garden projects” resonate with Rehberger’s deep fascination with horticultural life and its power to intervene on patterns of social and cultural convention. Julia Voss, journalist, scientific historian, writer and art critic at the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, interviews Rehberger for this issue. The

informal conversation reveals some of Rehberger’s history with as well as his thoughts and ambitions for the garden projects. Another Städelschule professor, Douglas Gordon, was interviewed by Daniel Birnbaum and Johan Bettum. The conversation focused on Gordon’s work and, specifically, his relation to cinematographic time and space. Gordon has been pivotal in defining contemporary video art, and his highly diverse body of work masterfully stages collective memory through the use of, for instance, multiple monitors, manipulation of time sequences and various forms of repetition. In the conversation, Gordon tells the story of some of his main projects and accounts for the background and his personal approach to his work. In his contribution to this issue, SAC faculty member Damjan Jovanovic discusses the medium specificity of software. Jovanovic argues that architecture is essentially a compositional practice and that contemporary computational paradigms in architectural design fall short of delivering architecture to the powers that the software medium potentially presents. He reinvokes the garden as reference and original typology for the creative space that software holds in store. In the process, he places a new realist project bluntly in the midst of garden utopias. Lastly, Johan Bettum presents his ideas for how a choreographic space might be understood architecturally. Bettum goes via art and reviews projects by Ryoji Ikeda, William Forsythe and MAMAZA, before turning to early projects and writings by Toyo Ito. He argues that a choreographic and therefore more flexible and agile approach to space might be better than conventional and stifled spatial paradigms in dealing with the already fully saturated space in which architectural design operates. The issue closes with a presentation of the three finalist projects for SAC’s AIV Master Thesis Prize 2014. The three projects comprise of Damjan Jovanovic’s prize winning Running on Random: Speculative Garden and the two projects by, respectively, Sophia Passberger and Vasily Sitnikov, which received an honourable mention.

NOTES 1) Garden State was in the Künstlerhaus Mousonturm from January 9 to 12, 2014. At the time, MAMAZA was the resident artist group at the art centre. 2) These gardens in the east of Venice have been the traditional venue for the international exhibitions since 1895. They were laid out during the Napoleonic era and today comprise of the Biennial grounds which host the national pavilions. 3) Lehnerer and Ciriacidis’ project was named Bungalow Germania and sought to capture the spirit of a building that became well known in the West German media in the postwar era. This is juxtaposed against the architecture of the German pavilion, which was extensively remodelled in 1938 in the spirit of the German Reich. 4) Horst Bredekamp, Leibniz und die Revolution der Gartenkunst: Herrenhausen, Versailles und die Philosophie der Blätter, (Berlin: Verlag Klaus Wagenbach, 2012).

Overleaf: Garden State, Künstlerhaus Mousonturm, Frankfurt, Germany (2014)

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JOHAN BET TUM INTRODUCTION

LIVES IN UTOPIA BETWEEN NO PLACE AND A GOOD PLACE Since time immemorial, gardens have offered us the space to dream and imagine things outside the regulated realm and ordeals of daily life. Regardless of form and organisation, gardens house gods and fairies, gnomes and an infinite range of other garden creatures. Gardens are where philosophers meander and lovers commit illicit acts, where children come to play and elderly unhurriedly return to the pleasures of work. Gardens are places of longing and desire. The BohemianAustrian poet, Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926), wrote: ‘You, Beloved, who are all / the gardens I have ever gazed at / longing.’1 Gardens are enchanting. Their enchantment reflects the idea of being both a good place and a no place - a utopia that is strung out between domestic “safety” and “civilised” urbanity on one side and, on the other, a wild and unruly nature.2 Notwithstanding that they are human-made, gardens defy the permanence of architecture and, in a classical sense, the eternal aspirations of “great art.” As a vibrant yet fragile interface between art and architecture’s pristine solidity and nature’s beautiful and alluring mercilessness, gardens are like tamed beasts. They succumb to the weather and natural resources and elements. Unless tended to, they rapidly crumble as the seasons pass. They warp time and space yet open

up to other times and spaces or extend these dimensions. To make a garden is an act of design, yet it also accommodates the complete “other” into the midst of human creation, the forces and flows that will undo the human-made. Hence, to prevail, gardens must continuously be tended to and pruned. So much so, in fact, that the greatest gardens in recent history, such as the one at Versailles, cost a fortune to maintain and its fountains were only turned on shortly before the king approached on his promenade by someone hiding nearby. Hence, gardens are also where labour concatenates with pleasure in an intimate yet unseemly manner. The time and space of gardens is strange and indecipherable, and gardens are at once form-full and formless. Whether Japanese, Persian, English, French or of any other origin, gardens present a symphony of geometric forms, ordered and not, symbolic and whimsically meaningless, straight and curved, botanical and humane made. There are gardens of love, hate, sin, goodness, bewilderedness, inclusion and excommunication. Gardens are heterotopias in Michel Foucault’s (1926-1984) sense of ‘juxtaposing in a single real place several spaces, several sites that

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Garden State, Teatro Fundamenta Nuove, Venice (2014)

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MOUSONTURM

WALDSMIDTSTR.

1 A

SANDWEG

HEGELSTRASSE

MUSIKANTENWEG

BAUMWEG MOUSONTURM

GAUSSTRASSE FRIEDBERGER LANDSTRASSE KURT SCHUMACHER/KONRAD ADENAUER STR. WALTER KOLB STR. GARTENSTRASSE 7

1 RFID

Garden State, drawings, Damjan Jovanovic (2013)

are in themselves incompatible.’ 3 This heterotopia is never private since it always extends our desires beyond our reach, beyond ourselves; it is where we place ourselves in the midst of an unknown social collective and a fantasy. GARDEN STATE For a long weekend in early January 2014, the choreographed community environment Garden State inhabited the main theatre in the Frankfurt art centre, Künstlerhaus Mousonturm. Garden State was far from New Jersey and inspired by the story of Libertalia, a fictional anarchist colony founded by pirates in the late 17 th century in Madagascar, freeing slave ships and living communally with the slaves in an exotic, peaceful environment. The project was conceived by the choreographer ensemble MAMAZA as an ‘enacted thought,’ a ‘biotope,’ a ‘social oasis’ or ‘utopian island.’ It was developed and executed in collaboration with SAC’s second-year specialisation, Architecture and Aesthetic Practice, as well as with numerous other contributors. Garden State formed an enclave inside Künstlerhaus Mousonturm. It was open from early in the morning till late at night and offered its visitors a temporary retreat from the city. It turned out to be a curious gathering place, welcom-

ing people for early morning yoga sessions, individuals and groups who came to read their books or simply doze off on an island of pillows in one of Garden State’s semi-private niches. Then there were those who brought their sandwiches for lunch, lounging on carpets and pillows with friends or alone; the numerous parents who populated the theatre in the afternoon with their small children who crawled amongst and through Garden State’s many boxes and plants; the pensioners who enjoyed a reasonably quiet hour while the soundscape in the ‘social oasis’ brought them exotic birdsong and even a short thunderstorm. All the while, the light subtly changed, mimicking a full day’s natural light. The light- and soundscapes operated synchronously on a fourteen-hourMOUSONTURM long, gradually evolving cycle with intricate compositions reproducing the sound and light of exotic fauna and habitats. Hence, when the thunderstorm set in, the occasional seminars or talks on various art-related topics, musical performances or readings that were part of Garden State, were literally interrupted by the effects produced by Mousonturm’s technical installations that hung under the ceiling. Before the distinct, young art crowd came in the early evening, there were organised city walks departing from and ending in Garden State. The art crowd, however, were

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INTRODUCTION: LIVES IN UTOPIA - BET WEEN NO PL ACE AND A GOOD PL ACE

MOUSONTURM

the ones who hung out till late. Small groups of them took the places of the â&#x20AC;&#x153;luncheoners,â&#x20AC;? the parents with children, the pensioners and other interested visitors. A few drifted alone or with a friend through the garden; there was always a nook or a cranny that had yet to be discovered. Then everyone gathered for a planned or improvised party, and dance music replaced the sounds of nature that till then had drifted through the garden.

a 50x50 centimetre grid that was mapped onto a scaled representation of the city. 4 The modules came in the form of closed boxes and inverted, U-shaped frames. The latter offered directed views onto neighbouring zones within the garden, creating various levels, depths and fascinating perspectives. The zoning and stacking of units made up a changing archipelago of islands that accommodated the numerous potted plants.

The nooks and crannies in Garden State were in the recesses in and between the many islands made of wooden box and frame modules and potted plants. The plants were obtained through a door-to-door action in Frankfurt in which citizens were asked to lend a private plant to Garden State. Upon arriving in the art centre, each plant was tagged with the name and address of the lender and placed in the theatre. The plantsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; placement followed a cartographic strategy by which the re-mapping of their respective geographic origin in the city was scaled to the space of Garden State. When Garden State ended, the plants were returned to their lenders.

A number of modules were fitted with wheels so that they, with or without other modules above but but always with a plant(s), could be moved around by visitors. The islands mixed the green, rectangular geometry of the hard, wooden modules with the green, botanical, irregular and soft geometry of the plants. From the floor of the theatre to the apex of every island, the regularity of forms gradually dissolved. The height of an island varied from 50 centimetres (one module only) to five metres (three modules and a three-and-a-half metre high plant on top). When moving around or sitting next to an islands, vistas from the specific location within Garden State multiplied with respect to the number and orientations of the U-shaped modules, the placement, size and geometries of the plants as well as the neighbouring islands.

The plants were placed in, on and around various aggregations of the dark green, cubic and wooden modules measuring 50x50x50 centimetres. In turn, these were organised on

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In a given location, an island created small-scale ambiences and environments that could be inhabited. Between and around the islands, carpets and pillows were scattered and moved around by the visitors according to their needs. Whereas visitors could be mostly private in an appropriated, green chamber or recess, they always found themselves also sharing their presence with others who peered through the vistas offered them or dropped a glance as they quietly strolled by. Being in Mousonturm for four days, Garden State was not only ephemeral like theatrical performances tend to be, its existence was predicated on borrowed time: The time of its visitors-cum-actors and the time of the plants lent to the installation. Given the light in the theatre, they would slowly have died had they stayed there much longer. However, people were more than willing to lend; plants and visitors came in abundance. Garden State hosted 630 people during its four day duration and 500 plants were lent to the installation. After Frankfurt, Garden State went to Buenos Aires where it was part of the festival Changing Places in March, 2014.5 Then it appeared in Venice in the Teatro Fundamenta Nuove in October 2014 as part of the Goethe Institute’s programme, Performing Architecture.6 Garden State was perfect in Venice, a stage in a stage, but more importantly: Gardens in Venice are private and filled with plants and flowers imported from near and afar. For Garden State at Fundamenta Nuouve, borrowed plants were doubly imported via boat from elsewhere in Venice, but the garden was public and open to everyone.7 THE ARCHITECTURE OF A CHOREOGRAPHY IN DURATION As a choreographic act, Garden State presented a remarkable confluence of things in an original fashion: Things dead and alive, artificial and natural. There were visitors and actors, performances and theatre, public and private, planned events and improvised presences, architecture and dance. It was an exotic heterotopia, all framed within the Mousonturm’s main theatre. MAMAZA consciously planned Garden State as being suspended between the idea of an idealist community and a turn-of-the 19 th century, elitist, intellectual salon. Moreover, the group aimed at addressing the theatre’s “fourth wall,” the typical, reified separation between performers and audience that manifests itself materially and spatially as well as in experience and presence. The artists saw Garden State a ‘choreography in duration,’ a choreographic act in which the strange confluence of things in the garden staged and activated the visitors in different ways amidst the saturated, green and spatial decor. The visitor became perhaps what Glenn Gould once called ‘the reflexive visitor,’ by which he challenged the 18 th century, stratified separation of composer, performer and audience and rather saw listener and maker intermingled?

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Pursuing this vision, MAMAZA transformed the theatre of Mounsonturm into a gardenesque stage on which everyone performed. Domestic, private and intimate settings were literally transposed to the theatre, and the theatre was more a communal lounge than a space for directed performance and passive watching and listening. Being at once a collection of living rooms, a public garden and a choreographed performance in a theatrical institution, Garden State brought different platforms together to produce a melange of performative environments, each with their own spatial and temporal qualities that coexisted without collapsing into one another. Perhaps the best way to tap into this manifold of different performative platforms with their respective spaces and temporalities is to embrace MAMAZA’s notion of a ‘choreography in duration’ - a set of intentions that remain insistent over a period of time for how we inhabit a seamless, heterotopic space? If this proposition is plausible, then the architecture of Garden State was not merely the organisation of pre-designed, green wooden units and potted plants within the main hall of Mounsonturm. The architecture comprised of bringing together the different performative platforms and organising their coexistence within one space without losing their particularities. For instance, Garden State synthesised architecture’s hard “groundedness” with the softness of a garden’s sedimented and mutable terrain - not literally but in a fully tangible, artificial composition of elements. Likewise, the domesticity of the private and intimate realm of the living room was dramaturgically brought to life with rugs, pillows and plants that literally were on loan from these private, domestic spaces. And the privacy and organisation of these domestic platforms were transposed to Mousonturm’s hall where the grounds of auditorium and stage for four days were collapsed into a new choreographed realm. Garden State was the amalgam of these environments. It involved and surreptitiously activated everyone who entered and therefore left the realm of the city behind for a moment or more. It was a garden of strange and fascinating times and spaces.

NOTES 1) From Rainer Marie Rilke’s poem, You Who Never Arrived. 2) ‘Utopia’ derives from Greek: οù (“not”) and τόπος (“place”) and means “no-place”, whereas ‘Eutopia’ has its roots in the Greek εū (“good” or “well”) and τόπος (“place”), and thus means a “good place.” 3) Michel Foucault, “Of Other Spaces: Utopias and Heterotopias”, in Architecture/ Mouvement/Continuité, October, 1984. The original was published as Des Espace Autres, March 1967. Translated from the French by Jay Miskowiec. 4) Outside the theatre, in the lobby, maps with pins indicating the plants’ home location were presented. 5) Garden State at Changing Places was made possible by the Siemens Foundation. 6) Performing Architecture was run in parallel with the 14th Architecture Biennial in Venice. A new version of the programme is at the time of writing in Venice for the 15 th Architecture Biennial. 7) At the time of writing, plans are for Garden State to appear in Lausanne, Switzerland, at the Festival de la Cité in July 2016; Steirischer Herbst in Graz, Austria, in October 2016; and at PACT Zollverein, Germany, in November 2016.

Overleaf: Garden State, Künstlerhaus Mousonturm, Frankfurt, Germany (2014)

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DANIEL BIRNBAUM, philosopher, critic and curator, is the director of the Museum of Modern Art in Stockholm and professor at the Städelschule. He was the dean of the Städelschule and director of Portikus from 2001 to 2010 and the director of the 53rd Venice Biennial (2009).

DANIEL BIRNBAUM

LABYRINTHS IN TIME, GARDEN STATES In a small essay titled Chronology, I once tried to analyse a few works of art that, if theorist Sarat Maharaj is right, I should perhaps have called spasms rather than art pieces. In a way, they are spasms in time or, more precisely, spasms of time. In a series of seminars for the Städelschule Architecture Class leading up to the project Garden State, we looked closer at a few specific cases. Like this one: The International Date Line (IDL) is the imaginary line drawn around the globe, marking the boundary between today and tomorrow. Although commonly identified as being 180° longitude from the meridian located in Greenwich, England, the IDL has no fixed location and no international law that proclaims its existence. In 1995, the small archipelago of Kiribati located in the south pacific, moved the IDL east to 150°, so that the entire country would then be situated on the Western, “tomorrow” side of the IDL. Julieta Aranda, who sent me this information, materialises this anomaly of time in a work consisting of a wall that replicates the path of the IDL. Viewers can traverse this physical version of the elusive entity that divides past from future, and contemplate its history in the presentation of charts, scientific diagrams and related ephemera that accompany this representation. This work certainly represents a temporal spasm. Another puzzling garden, this one constructed by Stan Douglas: The video installation Der Sandmann (1995), an

elaborate meditation on the mechanisms of recollection and temporal awareness, and, I think, the most sophisticated work of contemporary art I have come across in decades. A poetic, visually perplexing attempt to come to grips with the German situation a few years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, the piece can be viewed and enjoyed simply as a dreamlike scenario about the childhood memories of three people from the small, formerly East German city of Potsdam. But to really appreciate the installation requires a familiarity with numerous sources: The German Romantic writer E.T.A. Hoffmann’s story Der Sandmann; Freud’s essay The Uncanny and its theory of repetition; certain aspects of German city planning, particularly the Schrebergärten, small plots of land that the poor could lease from the city to grow their own vegetables. These gardens were named after the nineteenth-century educator Moritz Schreber, whose son Daniel Paul Schreber’s Memoirs of My Nervous Illness would play a crucial role in the development of Freud’s theory of paranoia. All this is relevant to Douglas’s installation, even if it is not ultimately what the work is “about.” Der Sandmann is a double video projection, each screen showing a 360-degree sweep of a Schrebergarten. Staged in the old Ufa studios just outside Potsdam and shot on 16 mm film, the sets are re-creations of the gardens, one as

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Above and overleaf: Stan Douglas, Der Sandmann (1995), video stills

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they might have appeared twenty years ago, the other a contemporary version, partly transformed into a construction site. The most curious aspect of this double projection is the vertical seam that simultaneously sutures and separates the halves. Initially the line appears to be only an irritating distortion, and even if you concentrate on the seam, it is not easy to understand what it represents or how, technically, it is produced. The gardens occupy their respective spaces on either side of the cleft in such a way that, in Douglas’ own words, ‘as the camera passes the set, the old garden is wiped away by the new one and, later, the new is wiped away by the old, without resolution, endlessly.’ Thus the seam is a time fissure, keeping zones of temporality apart and yet letting them touch via an ultra thin “split” that marks a kind of syncopation. The two sides are woven together by a story delivered on-screen by Nathanael, the tragic hero of Hoffmann’s tale, who reads aloud from a script but moves his lips in a way that does not match the words - or so it seems. On closer inspection it becomes clear that his lips actually do fall into sync at exactly the moment when Nathanael himself passes across the fracture. As the cameras rotate, the cleft seems to widen so that the objects that enter into it disappear for a moment. Time is eating its way across the screen: Things are consumed by the hungry gap but reappear a second or two later on the other side. If the line itself represents the present - the conspicuous yet evasive “Now” of perception, then this work seems to make a philosophical point about the temporality of experience. Is the present ever present? In fact, everything seems to start with deferral, difference and delay - in short, with what Derrida gave the name ‘différance.’ The presentness of perception is not the firm foundation it has been held to be, but an effect of a play of differences - and not just temporal differences. Hoffmann’s story is full of doubles, uncanny repetitions and puzzling correspondences. Given the abundance of optical metaphors in the tale as well as the central theme of the eye and the fear of losing one’s sight, it is perfect material for cinematic experiments. But rather than illustrate the story, Douglas puts the central concepts into motion. There are no sliced eyes à la Buñuel or Bataille but a vertical cut that gives rise to a disharmonious cleft right through the field of vision. Yet Der Sandmann questions more than the traditional hegemony of vision; it effectively stages a theory of temporal awareness that represents a threat to the understanding of the self as a subject fully present to itself. The work seems to propose a form of temporal awareness that comes close to what Freud understood as ‘Nachträglichkeit,’ deferred action. Events that have never been given as fully present, are experienced only after the fact. In Freud and the Scene of Writing, Derrida sums it up nicely: ‘It is thus the delay which is in the beginning.’ Yet another example: In Your sun machine Olafur Eliasson created a “cosmological” installation with the simplest of means. It is a work about the relationship between sun and

Olafur Eliasson, Your sun machine (1997), installation view at Marc Foxx Gallery, Los Angeles (1997)

earth. His contribution is nothing but a hole in the roof of the Californian gallery where the work was presented. Above the sun blazes, creating a vibrantly hot patch of light on the gallery floor. If you concentrate on the patch, you can actually see the sun moving. Until you remember something you learned in school: The reason that the light of this heavenly body creeps across the floor is that you and your own little planet are tearing across the universe at an unimaginable speed. Or had you forgotten that? Francis Alÿs’ video Zócalo, May 22, 1999 is also a work of art that reminds us of certain fundamental cosmic facts. A flag that stands at the centre of a huge square in Mexico City, casts a shadow that attracts people as they try to escape the relentless light that falls onto the plaza. Thus, a large solar clock is created with human figures as an element. This is an artwork about the Mexican sun, about the movement of planet Earth through space and about the social life in the Mexican capital. A more complicated solar clock has been constructed by Tobias Rehberger: 7 corners of the world consists of 111 lamps ordered in nine groups. It belongs to a series of works that use light and digital technology to connect a local situation with one or several other locations around the globe. As planet Earth circles the sun, different groups are activated. Recreating the light in distant cities such as Kyoto and Las Vegas, they shine with increasing strength and then

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Above: Tobias Rehberger, 7 ends of the world, installation view, 50th Venice Biennial (2003) Below: Francis Alÿs in collaboration with Rafael Ortega, Zócalo, May 22, 1999, Mexico City (1999)

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Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, Park â&#x20AC;&#x201C; A Plan For Escape, Documenta 11, Kassel (2002)

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DA N I E L B I R N B AU M L A BY R I N T H S I N T I M E, G A R D E N S TAT E S

slowly fade away. The entire room thus functions as a complicated solar clock that displays the constellation of the two heavenly bodies. The work is a poly-rhythmic light machine, at once cosmic and very down-to-earth. The viewer who traverses the room walks from time zone to time zone. All of these works seem to articulate a solar geography that has been in place since Plato. Let us remind ourselves of his Timaeus, where time is called the ‘moving image of eternity.’ It consists of days, nights, months and years: ‘They are all parts of time, and the past and the future are created species of time, which we unconsciously but wrongly transfer to eternal being, for we say that it “was,” or “is,” or “will be,” but the truth is that “is” alone is properly attributed to it.’ That which truly is, is the “eternal Present,” the “Now.” To break with the powerful linear conception of time as a line consisting of “Now”-points seems to require a new kind of spatialisation. We need richer and more intricate architectural models that allow for temporal heterogeneity and multiplicity: Not one line but always many, maze-like temporalities - by necessity always thought of in the plural that cannot be visualised as a line of successive points but rather as a pattern of bifurcating and divergent series, or, in the words of Jorge Luis Borges, as a ‘garden of forking paths.’ In his story, Borges alludes to a Chinese architect and philosopher, Ts’ui Pen, who does not believe in a uniform, absolute time: ‘He believed in an infinite series of times, in a growing, dizzying net of diverging, convergent and parallel times. This network of times that approached one another, forked, broke off, or were unaware of one another for centuries, embraces all possibilities of time. We do not exist in the majorities of these times. In some you exist, and not I; in others I, and not you; in others, both of us.’ Let us now move on to an artist who really has constructed gardens in the physical sense: Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster. First an introduction to her sensibility: ‘How to enchant with practically nothing, a few popular songs, a series of anti-landscapes, some micro-events, lots of emptiness … This low-intensity cinema penetrates our perceptions right to the core of our sensibility,’ declares writer Nicole Brenez in a brief letter to the editors of Cahiers du Cinéma about Ile de Beauté (1996), a film co-directed by Gonzalez-Foerster (with video artist Ange Leccia). This, it seems to me, also nicely sums up what Gonzalez-Foerster achieves in her solo filmic experiments, which are sometimes displayed in dark theatres on a screen but just as often branch out to envelop architecture, public space, and even whole cities - be they the artist’s native Paris or distant metropolises in Asia or Latin America. Indeed, in Gonzalez-Foerster’s work, genre no longer seems relevant. Her productions include the “cosmic” adventure Exotourisme (2002), a video projection and sound “environment” that takes the viewer through an abstract landscape of computer-generated forms; the design of a Balenciaga store in New York; and ambitious lighting and video shows that accompany rock concerts.

Asked to describe her open-air project for Documenta 11 (2012), Gonzalez-Foerster lists some of the heterogeneous elements that were displayed amid the shadows cast by the large trees south of Kassel’s Orangerie and where, on hot days, one could see exhausted viewers dozing away on the lawn: ‘It’s a park; it’s a plan for escape; it’s an extra-large piece of lava rock that has come from Mexico and landed on the green grass; it’s a blue phone booth from Rio de Janeiro; it’s a butterfly pavilion screening a film inspired by The Invention of Morel, the fantastic novel by Adolfo Bioy Casares; it’s a rose tree from Chandigarh.’ On hearing this catalogue of seemingly unrelated parts - removed from their original contexts but arranged together in subtle tension - one senses that the work is less a particular, circumscribed space or medium than an atmosphere that draws out the melancholy inherent in objects in the world. Still, I ask myself: What exactly is Park - A Plan for Escape? A curious sculpture garden, an installation or an outdoor cinema equipped with exotic props? Probably it is all of these things, but it is also one more example of what French theorists would recognise as a form of ‘écriture.’ Regardless of technique, Gonzalez-Foerster’s work is always close to that active production of emptiness that Roland Barthes - in his book about a fantasised Japan, Empire of Signs - counted as writing and which he associated with Zen: ‘And it is also an emptiness of language which constitutes writing; it is from this emptiness that derive the features with which Zen, in the exemption from all meaning, writes gardens, gestures, houses, flower arrangements, faces, violence.’ In this sense, Gonzalez-Foerster writes gardens, flower arrangements, and, yes, entire cities, often using cinema to alter an urban landscape, whether it is a lush German park or the subterranean maze of a Parisian subway station. In Park - A Plan for Escape, a butterfly-shaped pavilion is a kind of cinematic machine, a freestanding projection booth presenting imagery of parks from films like Antonioni’s La notte, Tsai Ming-Liang’s Vive l’amour and Resnais’s Last Year at Marienbad. Bodies and faces appear like ghosts behind the pavilion’s glass, hardly discernible during daytime but suddenly entirely visible when night falls. ‘I like the idea that you can enter the park by chance and encounter these elements in a rather mysterious way without immediately thinking about art,’ says the artist. ‘It’s all not so clearly coded or framed. You can come across these things anytime during night or day and have a very different experience. It’s not even clear where it all starts or stops. Beyond this tree, after this cloud … ?’ Given its lack of beginning or end, perhaps it is understandable that a project like this originated somewhat amorphously. One point of departure was a scene from Tsai’s film that made such a lasting impression on Gonzalez-Foerster that she eventually journeyed to the distant location where it was shot to try to understand it better. A hopeless endeavour, no doubt, but in this case, nevertheless, a productive one. Says the artist: ‘In Vive l’amour a woman is walking through a 23

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park under construction in Taipei. Five years after seeing the film, I went to Taipei myself to see that park and to walk that lane. It started to rain. And the rain became so strong that I had to stay one hour under a kind of shelter. A prisoner in the park, I finally could connect the film and the space in an intense way.’ Out of this charged atmospheric moment came her art; in work after work, Gonzalez-Foerster targets those exquisite sensations that are so evasive they lack names but are distinct enough to be remembered for a lifetime.

the fireworks get more and more volcanic, turning the screen into Turner-like cascades of colour - fire and smoke produce imagery verging on abstraction. Then it starts to rain, and the crowd hides under umbrellas. ‘If there is one place where mankind’s utopia exists … Copacabana must be that place,’ says one voice. The crowd continues to move along the wave pattern, and we hear a last statement, delivered by a local fisherman: ‘Copacabana is wonderful. It’s a wonderful city. Copacabana doesn’t exist.’

Bonne Nouvelle, Station Cinema (2001) installed at the Bonne Nouvelle metro station in Paris, was the artist’s first major public work and another attempt to bring filmic associations into an unlikely space. Through a number of delicate interventions - a few monitors here and there, various forms of theatrical lighting - she transformed the station’s utilitarian underground architecture (staircases, passageways, platforms) into a cinematic fantasy. Fragments from films shot in the metro appeared on the monitors. More conspicuous were the rows of lurid spherical lamps hovering over weary passengers waiting for the train to finally arrive. These colourful globes were pure joy: For a moment the travellers were transported from the grey and noisy environment of urban transportation to some fanciful theatre lobby or perhaps a small town amusement park.

In many of Gonzalez-Foerster’s installations, a certain blankness is expressed quite physically as she leaves large spaces empty. Such was the case already fifteen years ago in Brasilia Hall (2000) at Stockholm’s Moderna Museet. The installation comprised a green carpet that covered the floor of a vast area in the museum. Other than this, the installation displayed nothing more than an orange neon sign spelling out the project’s title and a small monitor, built into the wall, showing imagery from Oscar Niemeyer’s Brasília - certainly a prime example of that “tropical modernity” Gonzalez-Foerster tends to return to.

Escapism? Yes, but not of the sort that seeks a more authentic life, some less artificial or even pre-modern form of dwelling in the world. On the contrary, Gonzalez-Foerster’s fantasies often conjure up a kind of tropical modernity connecting abstraction in the arts, visionary architecture and the suggestion of equatorial fecundity. One example is the fifteen-minute film Plages (2001), shot from a hotel room in Rio de Janeiro that overlooks the Copacabana and accompanied by a patchwork soundtrack of voices, music and exploding fireworks. In describing this work, one finds oneself falling into GonzalezFoerster’s own elliptical manner of recitation, such is the power of its mood. We see the beach at night, with people dressed in white on the sand. The camera moves away from the water, and we see the street, lined with palm trees and full of cars. On the sidewalk there is a black-and-white wave pattern. A voice belonging to Diogenes Paixao, a Brazilian art collector, explains: ‘It’s the biggest drawing in the world. The landscaped gardens of Copacabana. He was very proud of it, you know. Always saying: “It’s the biggest drawing!”’ Paixao is talking about Brazilian artist and garden architect Roberto Burle Marx, and soon the camera zooms in on the abstract wave design. The people moving back and forth along the beach seem to follow the pattern. What we experience is the crowd - always the group rather than the individual person. This is a film about a collective state of mind called the “Copacabana.” The sun has set and it is getting dark, but the beach is lit by spotlights and small fires in the sand. A collage of voices, talking and singing, delivers a dense and poetic account of life at the waterfront: ‘Copacabana has no centre. No ties to the golden youth … a sort of oasis.’ Explosions from

But the spatial void at the centre of these works seems to me only one more way of indicating what most of them express on a level of signification or, more precisely, through their strategic lack of signification. ‘Writing is after all, in its way, a satori,’ claims Barthes, ‘a more or less powerful seism which causes knowledge, or the subject, to vacillate: It creates an emptiness in language.’ This enchanting emptiness is the productive force in Gonzalez-Foerster’s works. She has captured and recorded lacunae of meaning in places as distant as Brazil, China and Japan, but these are also to be found at the very core of our everyday experience. In principle, we can find the liberating emptiness everywhere. This is the particular state of mind her works produce in us. It is, I believe, a garden state.

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Dominque Gonzalez-Foerster, Plages (2001), video stills from installation at Documenta 11, Kassel (2002)

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JOHAN BETTUM INTRODUCTION: LIVES IN UTOPIA - BETWEEN NO PLACE AND A GOOD PLACE

LOUISE NERI ‘NOTHING IS INNOCENT:’ BUNGALOW GERMANIA - BIRDS, BONN 1964

Photos and drawings: Städelschule Architecture Class, Architecture and Aesthetic Practice (2014) Project credits: Garden State, MAMAZA (Fabrice Mazliah, Ioannis Mandafounis, May Zarhy) in collaboration with SAC's second year specialisation Architecture and Aethetic Practice (Sadaf Ahadi, Helga Boldt, Sujata Chitlangia, Amin Eivani, Damjan Jovanovic, Petr Khraptovich, Ronak Namdari and Johan Bettum).

Project credits: Birds, Bonn 1964 by William Forsythe: Live acoustic performance with Daniela Cattivelli, Camillo Prosdocimo, Giorgio Rizzo, Ettore Scabin, Claudio Pin, June 7th, 2014, German Pavilion, Venice, Architecture Biennial, sound: Niels Lanz, producer: Julian Gabriel Richter. Bungalow Germania, German Pavillion, 14th International Architecture Exhibition la Biennale di Venezia 2014, June 7th-November 23rd, 2014, Commissioners for the German Contribution: Savvas Ciriacidis and Alex Lehnerer, CIRIACIDISLEHNERER Architekten & ETH Zürich. Page 43, 44, 45: Photos of Bungalow Germania by Bas Princen, http://basprincen.com. Courtesy of the architects Savvas Ciriacidis and Alex Lehnerer. Page: 43 The double square of the bungalow in the park (1964). ©KEYSTONE/DPA. Page 46: Bungalow Germania, German pavilion, section and floor plan by Savvas Ciriacidis and Alex Lehnerer, CIRIACIDISLEHNERER Architekten & ETH Zürich. Courtesy of the architects. Page 47: Secretaries of State Egon Bahr (BRD, right), and Michael Kohl (DDR). Courtesy of Bundesregierung. Photo: Ludwig Wegmann. Page 48: Crested Lark (2016), photo: Artemy Voikhansky, source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/ File:Crested_lark_singing.jpg. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons AttributionShare Alike 4.0 International license. Page 49: Siberian Stonechat (2013), photo: Shantanu Kuveskar, source: https://commons.wikimedia. org/wiki/File:Siberian_Stonechat_(Saxicola_maurus)_Photograph_By_Shantanu_Kuveskar.jpg. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license. Pages 48, 49: Chioccolatori / birdcallers Ettore Scabin and Camillo Prosdocimo in Bungalow Germania, German Pavilion, Giardini, Venice (2014). Photos: Xandra Linsin. Page 51: Giotto di Bondone, Legend of St Francis: Sermon to the Birds (1297-99), Basilica of San Francesco at Assisi. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Giotto_-_Legend_of_St_Francis_ -_-15-_-_Sermon_to_the_Birds.jpg. This file has been identified as being free of known restrictions under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights.

DANIEL BIRNBAUM LABYRINTHS IN TIME, GARDEN STATES Page 17, 18-19: Stan Douglas, Der Sandmann (1995), still from two-track 16 mm film projection, black and white, sound; 9:50 min (loop). Courtesy of the artist and David Zwirner, New York. Page 20: Olafur Eliasson, Your sun machine (1997), aperture cut into existing roof, daylight, dimensions variable. Installation view at Marc Foxx Gallery (Los Angeles, 1997). Photo: Olafur Eliasson. Courtesy of the artist and Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, New York. ©1997 Olafur Eliasson Page 21: Tobias Rehberger, 7 ends of the world, installation view, 50th Venice Biennial (2003), 222 glass lamps, light bulbs, installation dimensions variable. ©Studio Tobias Rehberger. Photo: Roman Mensing / artodc.de. Francis Alÿs, Zócalo, Mexico City, May 22, 1999 (1999). In collaboration with Rafael Ortega, documentary video, 12 hours. Photo: Francis Alÿs. Page 22: Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, Park - A Plan For Escape (2002), installation view Documenta 11, Kassel, 2002. Photos: © Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster. Courtesy of the artist, 303 Gallery, New York and Esther Schipper, Berlin. Page 25: Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, Plages (2001), 35mm on DVD, color, sound, sound: Stereo Language: Portuguese + subtitles, format: 4:3, TRT: 15 min., presentation: Projection DVD, projection on a screen or a blank white wall, edition of 5, installation view Documenta 11, Kassel, 2002. Photos: ©Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster. Courtesy of the artist, 303 Gallery, New York and Esther Schipper, Berlin.

MOVEMENT, STILLNESS AND THE CHOREOGRAPHIC OBJECT A CONVERSATION WITH WILLIAM FORSYTH E Page 27: One Flat Thing, reproduced: choreography: William Forsythe, film director: Thierry De Mey, dancers: The Forsythe Company, music : Thom Willems, stage design and light design: William Forsythe, costumes: Stephen Galloway, production: MK2 TV, producer: Charles Gillibert, format: film 26 minutes (2006), ©2006 MK2 TV – Arte France – The Forsythe Company – Forsythe Foundation - Arcadi. Pages 27, 28-29, 33: Photos: Matthias Behrmann and Sylvia Fadenhecht. Page 30 : Slingerland (Teil 1): choreography: William Forsythe, music: Gavin Bryars, Three Viennese Dancers and String Quartet No.1, stage design and film: Cara Perlman, light and costume design: William Forsythe, premiere: November 25th, 1989, Ballett Frankfurt, Opernhaus Frankfurt, Germany. Pages 31: Artifact: choreography: William Forsythe, music: Part I: Eva Crossman-Hecht, J.S. Bach; Part II: J.S. Bach: Chaconne from Partita Nr. 2 BWV 1004 in D-Minor, performed by Nathan Milstein; Part III: Sound Collage by William Forsythe; Part IV: Eva Crossman-Hecht, Johann Sebastian Bach, stage design, light and costume design: William Forsythe, text: William Forsythe, premiere: December 5th, 1984, Ballett Frankfurt, Opernhaus Frankfurt, Germany. Pages 35: William Forsythe, Nowhere and Everywhere at the Same Time No. 3: plumb bobs, string, compressed air cylinders, producer: Julian Gabriel Richter, technical conception and realisation: Max Schubert, construction and control: Christian Schubert, programming: Sven Thöne, October 16th, 2015, MMK Museum für Moderne Kunst, Frankfurt. Photos: Dominik Mentzos. Pages 36-37: Quintett: choreography: William Forsythe, Dana Caspersen, Stephen Galloway, Jacopo Godani, Thomas McManus, und Jone San Martin, music: Gavin Bryars, Jesus’s Blood Never Failed Me Yet, stage design and light design: William Forsythe, costume design: Stephen Galloway, premiere: October 9th, 1993, Ballett Frankfurt, Opernhaus Frankfurt, Germany. Page 39: William Forsythe, Scattered Crowd: balloons, helium, lace, producer: Julian Gabriel Richter, music: Ekkehard Ehlers, March 15th, 2002, Hall 7, Messe Frankfurt, Germany. Pages 40-41: William Forsythe, Black Flags: robots, flags, November 26th, 2014, Kunsthalle im Lipsiusbau, SKD, programing: Sven Thöne, technical realisation: Max Schubert, producer: Julian Gabriel Richter; in cooperation with Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden, SKD.

HORST BREDEKAMP HERRENHAUSEN AND THE LANDSCAPED GARDEN: TWO ROUTES TO MODERNITY Fig. 1: Courtesy of Studio Canal Plus. Fig. 3: ©Clip & Still Licensing / Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. Fig. 4: Berlin, Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Kunstbibliothek, SMB, bpk, OS 2480. Fig. 5: Coptograph für VolkswagenStiftung. Courtesy of VolkswagenStiftung. Fig. 6: Hannover, Niedersächsisches Landesmuseum, 03.070.01 1/03.069.013/015, Ente. aus: Meyer 1966, S.30. ©Landesmuseum Hannover. Fig. 7: Hannover, VM 28795,11. ©Historisches Museum Hannover. Courtesy of Historisches Museum Hannover. Fig. 8: Hannover, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek, Gd-A 1246, S.151. ©Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek Fig. 9: Hannover, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek, Mp.18, XIX, C Nr. 178 b. ©Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz Bibliothek-Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek. Fig. 10: Versailles, Musée National des Chateaux de Versailles, MV 765, bpk, RMN (Photo: Gérard Blot). Fig. 11: Published by Pierre/peter Schenk, Amsterdam, Hannover, Historisches Museum, VM 28795, 10, photography 91/1985. ©Historisches Museum Hannover. Courtesy of Historisches Museum Hannover. Fig. 12: Hannover, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek, MS XXIII, 735, Bl. 30v. ©Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek. Fig. 13: Hannover, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek, MS XXIII, 735, Bl.35a. ©Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek. Fig. 14: Hannover, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek, MS XXIII, 735, Bl.23v u 24r. ©Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek. Fig. 16: Hannover, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek, MS XXIII, 735, Bl. 9v. ©Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz Bibliothek - Niedersächsische Landesbibliothek. Fig. 17: Montage: Vincent Kraft/Tilmann Steger Fig. 18: Montage: Vincent Kraft/Tilmann Steger Fig. 19: Designation of all figures and reference points of the drawing MS XXIII, 735, Bl. 9v. Montage: Vincent Kraft. Fig. 20: Overlap of the drawing in MS XXIII, 735, Bl. 9v with the representation of the canal project in north-south direction.Montage: Vincent Kraft. Fig. 21: Paris, Musée du Louvre, bpk, RMN (Photo: Thierry Le Mage). Fig. 22: Fireworks, photography, 2011, Hannover, Herrenhäuser Gärten, Hannover Marketing & Tourismus GmbH (Photo: Hassan Mahramzadeh). Fig. 23: from: Hoogstraten, 1678, S. 260. Fig. 24: Dresden, Mathematisch-Physikalischer Salon, Nr. B V 10 (Photo: Jürgen Karpinski). Courtesy of Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden.

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IMAGE AND PROJECT CREDITS

PHILIPPE PIROTTE KERRY-JAMES MARSHALL’S PAINTERLY REFLECTIONS ON THE IDYLLIC

DAMJAN JOVANOVIC THE GARDEN IN THE MACHINE: A STORY OF ARCHITECTURAL MEDIUMS

Page 67: Kerry James Marshall, Garden Party (2003): acrylic and paper on canvas banner, 120 x 120 inches (304.8 x 304.8 cm). ©Kerry James Marshall. Courtesy of the artist and David Zwirner Gallery, London. Page 68: Kerry James Marshall, Better Homes Better Gardens (1994): acrylic and collage on canvas, 100 x 142 inches. ©Kerry James Marshall. Courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York. Page 69: Kerry James Marshall, Untitled (Altgeld Gardens) (1995): acrylic and collage on canvas, 78 x 103 inches. ©Kerry James Marshall. Courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York. Page 71: Kerry James Marshall, Vignette #2 (2005): acrylic on Plexiglas, 73 1/4 x 61 inches. ©Kerry James Marshall. Courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York. Kerry James Marshall, Vignette #3 (2005): acrylic on Plexiglas, 73 1/4 x 61 inches. ©Kerry James Marshall. Courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York.

Page 99: Superstudio, Life - Supersurface (Fruit and Wine) (1972), detail. ©MAXXI Museo nazionale delle arti del XXI secolo, Roma. Courtesy of Collections MAXXI Architecture Archive Superstudio. Page 103: Bernardo deí Prevedari, engraving of a drawing by Donato Bramante, interior of a Temple with Figures, also called ìIncisione Prevedariî (1481). Image id: 00102575001, object type: print, producer name: After Donato Bramante, print made by Bernardo Prevedari, technique: engraving, materials: paper, production date: 1481, school / style: Lombard, Italian, subject: church, department: prints & drawings, object ref. no: V,1.69. ©The Trustees of the British Museum. Page 105: Superstudio, Life - Supersurface (1972), detail. © MAXXI Museo nazionale delle arti del XXI secolo, Roma. Courtesy of Collections MAXXI Architecture Archive Superstudio.

HU FANG TOWARDS A NON-INTENTIONAL SPACE

Page 108- 117: Photos: Andy Keate, Carl Freedman Gallery in London.

Pages 72-79: Translated by Andrew Maerkle. Parts of this text are revisions of preexisting translations. Unless otherwise noted, all photographs and drawings by Hu Fang. Courtesy of Vitamin Archive. This is a revised version based on the contribution to e-flux journal. Hu Fang’s Towards a Non-Intentional Space was first published in: Architecture as Intangible Infrastructure (guest-edited by Nikolaus Hirsch), e-flux journal #66 (9-10/2015).

I TRY TO GET ALONG WELL WITH PLANTS AN INTERVIEW WITH TOBIAS REHBERGER BY JULIA VOSS Page 82: Tobias Rehberger, Within the view of seeing (perspectives on a Prouvé) (1998), Manifesta 2, Luxemburg. ©Studio Tobias Rehberger. Foto: Roman Mensing / artodc.de. Page 83: Tobias Rehberger, Tsutsumu (2000), for the exhibition In Between Architecture, Expo 2000, Hannover. ©Studio Tobias Rehberger. Foto: Roman Mensing / artodc.de. Page 84: Tobias Rehberger, one (1995), installation view, Galerie neugerriemschneider, Berlin. ©Studio Tobias Rehberger. Courtesy of Galerie neugerriemschneider, Berlin. Page 85: Tree (Stop 19), 24 Stops, The Rehberger-Weg, ©Studio Tobias Rehberger.

THE SPACE, TIME AND CONSPIRACY OF CIRCUMSTANCE IN DOUGLAS GORDON’S WORK A CONVERSATION BET WEEN DOUGL AS GORDON, DANIEL BIRNBAUM AND JOHAN BET TUM

PORTFOLIO SEBASTIAN STÖHRER CERAMICS

JOHAN BETTUM THE GRAMMAR OF THE INEFFABLE Pages 122-123: Ryoji Ikeda, test pattern [100m version], audiovisual installation (2013): 10 DLP video projectors, computers, loudspeakers, dimensions: W13.3 x H16.7 (projection throw distance) x D100m, August 23-25, 2013, Ruhrtriennale, Kraftzentrale, Duiburg, Germany, concept, composition: Ryoji Ikeda, computer graphics, programming: Tomonaga Tokuyama. Photo: Wonge Bergmann. Courtesy of Ruhrtriennale 2013 ©Ryoji Ikeda. Pages 124-125: Photocollage: Jacqueline Jurt and Damjan Jovanovic. Page: 127 William Forsythe, Nowhere and Everywhere at the Same Time No. 3: plumb bobs, string, compressed air cylinders, producer: Julian Gabriel Richter, technical conception and realisation: Max Schubert, construction and control: Christian Schubert, programming: Sven Thöne, October 16th, 2015, MMK Museum für Moderne Kunst, Frankfurt. Photos: Dominik Mentzos. Pages 129, 130-131: Eifo Efi, photos: Dominik Mentzos. Courtesy of the photographer. ©Dominik Mentzos. Page 133: Silver Hut, photo: Mitsumasa Fujitsuka. ©Mitsumasa Fujitsuka. Page 133: Tower of Winds, photo: Tomio Ohashi. ©Tomio Ohashi. Page 135: White U, photo by Koji Taki. ©Koji Taki.

Page 88: Douglas Gordon, 24 Hour Psycho (1993), video installation, dimensions variable, installation view 93 Exhibition, Centro Galego de Arte Contemporánea, Santiago de Compostela, 2013. ©Studio lost but found / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2016. Photo: Studio lost but found / Bert Ross. Courtesy of Studio lost but found, Berlin. From Psycho (1960), USA, directed and Produced by Alfred Hitchcock, distributed by Paramount Pictures. ©Universal City Studios. Page 89: Douglas Gordon, 24 Hour Psycho (1993), video installation, dimensions variable, installation view Le Mejan, Arles, 2011. ©Studio lost but found / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2016. Photo: Studio lost but found / Bert Ross. Courtesy of Studio lost but found, Berlin. From Psycho (1960), USA, directed and produced by Alfred Hitchcock, distributed by Paramount Pictures. ©Universal City Studios. Pages 90,91: Douglas Gordon, Silence, Exile, Deceit (2013), video installation with sound, dimensions variable. ©Douglas Gordon / Ruhrtriennale / Studio lost but found / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2016. Photo: Studio lost but found / Frederik Pedersen. Pages 93, 94-95: Douglas Gordon, Play Dead; Real Time (2003), multi channel video installation without sound, dimensions variable. ©Studio lost but found / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn, 2016. Courtesy of Studio lost but found, Berlin. Pages: 96, 97: Douglas Gordon & Philippe Parreno, Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait (2006). ©Studio lost but found / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2016. Courtesy of Studio lost but found, Berlin; Studio Philippe Parreno, Paris; Anna Lena Films, Paris.

ADDENDUM to credits of SAC Journal 2 Mediated Architecture: Vivid, Effer vescent and Ner vous Project Credit: BEN VAN BERKEL AND THE THEATRE OF IMMANENCE Architectural design: Ben van Berkel, Luis Etchegorry and Johan Bettum consulted by Sanford Kwinter.

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SAC JOURNAL No. 3 GARDEN STATE CINEMATIC SPACE AND CHOREOGRAPHIC TIME Series Editor: Johan Bettum Issue Editor: Johan Bettum Executive Editor: Sylvia Fadenhecht Editorial office: SAC Städelschule Architecture Class Staatliche Hochschule für Bildende Künste Dürerstrasse 10, 60596 Frankfurt am Main, Germany Tel +49 (0) 69 60500869, architecture@staedelschule.de www.sac.staedelschule.de Design: Jacqueline Jurt Image Editor: Jacqueline Jurt Layout and Compilation: Jacqueline Jurt, Damjan Jovanovic Transcription: Adil Bokhari Logo design: Surface Gesellschaft für Gestaltung The editor has conscientiously endeavoured to identify and acknowledge all sources and copyright holders. All those holding illustration copyrights who have not been identified or credited can contact the editor. SAC Journal is published one to two times per year. Publication © Copyright 2015 by Spurbuchverlag Baunach, Germany; Städelschule Architecture Class, Frankfurt am Main; and authors. All rights reserved. No part of the work may in any mode (print, photocopy, microfilm, CD or any other process) may be reproduced or – by application of electronic systems – processed, manifolded or broadcasted without approval of the copyright holder. The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic information is available on the internet at: http://dnb.d-nb.de This publication has been generously supported by: Architekten- und Ingenieur Verein, Frankfurt am Main The AIV Master Thesis Prize 2014 Jury: Chairman of Board: Dipl.-Ing. Robert Weisert Co-Chairman: Prof. Dipl.-Ing. Manfred Grohmann and Dipl.-Ing. Stefan Burger With special thanks to Axel Bienhaus and Giselher Hartung, Chief Executive Officers of AIV. AADR – Art, Architecture and Design Research publishes projects and research with an emphasis on the relationship between critical theory and creative practice. AADR Curatorial Editor: Rochus Urban Hinkel, Stockholm Production: pth-mediaberatung GmbH, Würzburg Publisher: Spurbuchverlag Am Eichenhügel 4, 96148 Baunach, Germany Tel +49 (0) 9544 - 1561, Fax +49 (0) 9544 - 809, info@spurbuch.de, www.spurbuch.de Spurbuchverlag: www.spurbuch.de and AADR: www.aadr.info ISBN 978 –3– 88778–430 – 0 ISSN 2198 –3216

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