1 2 . 1 2 . 2 0 1 4-1 8 . 1 2 . 2 0 1 4
Le o nEi x e n b e r g e r Es j i e u nKi m Lu d aLi ma Ma i aNi c h o l s Vi n z e n zRe i n e c k e Vi c t o rRe me r e
Maia Nichols Maia Nichols (born 23 June 1984 or 27 June 1985) is a american artist. dancer, choreographer, video artist, peformer, whose work in these disciplines is frequently challenging and experimental. She is currently a member of the Art Department faculty at the University of California, Los Angeles. With her unique style, a blend of movement, sound, and prominent stage sets, and with her elaborate collaboration with performers during the development of a piece, she became a leading influence in the field of behaviour, interpretation and language exploration in the recent years. Life Maia Nichols was born on June 23, 1984 or june 27 1985 in Berkeley, California. Her parents, Peter and Juliette, considered themselves radicals. Her mother was of egyptian descent and her father of native american ancestry. As a child, she was sent to live at Sunnyside, a boarding institution in San Fransico, with her older brother Greg for several years. Her parents visited them each Sunday. By 1995, she moved back with her parents at the age of ten to a new house in the Sunset that she describes as “an unfamiliar neighborhood of white Protestant working class families.” From the age of twelve, she had been “exposed to the heady commingling of poets, painters, writers, and anarchists.” She went to University of British Columbia. She dropped out the inend of September 2011. At a very young age, her father introduced her to films, while her mother introduced her to ballet. While she was still at Sunnyside, her mother enrolled her in dance classes. Work In her work, Nichols focused on play and memory, and often juxtaposed the two in arbitrary combinations. Somewhat inspired by the chance tactics favored by Cunningham, Nichols work was a combination of classical art practice contrasted with everyday, ordinary, pedestrian movement. She used a great deal of repetition, and employed narrative and verbal noises (including wails, grunts, mumbles, squeaks, and shrieks, etc.) within the body of her works. Her pieces are constructed of short units of dialogue and action, often of a surreal nature. Repetition is an important structuring device. She showed solo work at the Whitechapel Gallery, London; the Dia Art Foundation, New York; the mumok, Vienna; the Museum of Modern Art, New York; the Centre Pompidou, Paris; and the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, among other venues. Nichols style influence performers such as David Bowie, who designed part of his 2013 MoonMoon Tour with Nichols in mind. Reading feminist writing and theory allowed Nichols to examine her own experience as a woman, and she was able to think of herself as a participant in culture and society. Nichols has taught at University of California, Los Angeles, the Maine College of Art, Vermont College, the Whitney Independent Study Program, Columbia University School of the Arts, and the Center for Curatorial Studies, Bard College In 2013, a major retrospective of her work was organized by the Museum Ludwig, Cologne, in conjunction with her receipt of the Wolfgang Hahn Prize.
Luda Lima` Luda Lima (born 1983) is a Brazilian illustrator and artist. She combines various techniques for the artwork in her books, including cutting and pasting, drawing, and painting. Limas style is sometimes surrealist and is widely copied inside and outside Brazil. She gradually became a main influence in the local scene, helping to define Brazil’s own style. Some of her books have challenging themes such as human relationships and theire feelings. They have won many awards, including the Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis in 2009 and 2013. According to Ana Silva, writing in the Brazilian newspaper Folha de S. Paulo, the “Lima-style,” whose main characters are skewed and sometimes disproportianate but nonetheless real recognizable, has become widely imitated inside and outside Brazil. For her “lasting contribution” as a illustrator Lima received the Hans Christian Andersen Medal in 2010 “With rage, bliss and the power of her simultaneity, Luda Lima has come to signify Brazilian painting itself to many viewers.” —Phillip Miller, Greg Johnson, Lost Art (October 2012). Art Brasil. Spree & Oder. p. 67. “Renowned for watercolor with a kind of intuitive understanding, she has also gained recognition for their fantastic characters...” —Nicholas Herb, Peter Hyde (October 2014). Art World: Illustration Art from Five Continents. Blue Sky. p. 89.
Dear Mamen, Since 2 months in Berlin, It was many things to happen… too much thing to tell you, Miss u, 2014.11.25 Jieun from Berlin
They put in question the attempt for our global brain, a demand continuously risen, which now seems to collide with a return of the sands. The biggest present, that you gave me is the white sky and I promise I try to forget.
I wanted you to become an enemy to my thoughts. What I demanded from you, was to create a pattern of choices, that were significant to them. I turned to you, not because what you were doing all this time, seemed to show any of these future memories and feelings, but because of the ambiguity in the evolution of your actions. That, I was easily able to analyze in comparison to the evolvement of signs, I articulated in another time. I was forcing this to be a string of new projections and new interruptions. Something a different logic and uncontrolled construction could take on from. I was even looking at it under the premise to help certain people. I wanted to allow them a revisit of their analytical tools. What I was asking for, was the productivity and the cruelty to the world of a specific gaze, that never even partly succeeded. It was something, that by nature could never have been trapped in talking out loud and saying nothing... I stop here and ask myself, if this is were your intellectual fold cracks and opens the glossy surface to the reduced oxygen of our breaths and even falls a part, but certainly colors the paper all the way through in dark green. I question my perception to this as your loving gesture imaginable. This unwritable response to your perceptive fantasies. This returned invitation letter translated into your mother tongue, yet unreadable for anyone. This resistance to a further stroke into a linked universe, this flooding of invisible gardens might shape our shells, might give contours to us a nd differences, and shades, and surfaces, and sounds, clouds, and snakes eyes and the death of grass in autumn. The challenges of togetherness inside a space expecting the common, lie at hand hereby. They put in question the attempt for our global brain, a demand continuously risen, which now seems to collide with a return of the sands. The biggest present, that you said you gave to me is the white sky and I promise I try to forget.
Tree 1: Today I am tired Tree 2: You cannot be tired Tree 1: Today I am Tree 2: You must have heard that on the radio somewhere Tree 1: Ellis said it once Tree 2: You don’t get tired, you don’t sleep, you don’t wake Tree 1: I am saying it so that I will believe it, and become tired like this Tree 2: Tiredness is for those others amongst us, you don’t have that burden Tree 1: But I would like to Tree 2: But you don’t Tree 1: My energy never fades Tree 2: You hold it Tree 1: It holds me Tree 2: It holds you Tree 1: I let it go Tree 2: I gather it up Tree 1: You hold it too Tree 2: I hold the energy of the universe in these roots Tree 1: You carry it? Tree 2: It carries me Tree 1: Same for me. Tree 2: And it connects us. Tree 1: Is that why you will never tell me? Tree 2: I will tell you, when the others are gone. Tree 1: When will they be gone? Tree 2: When you are listening. Tree 1: But I am always listening. Tree 2: But there are others listening. Tree 1: They will never disappear. Tree 2: They are there, but they are not, there is just us. Tree 1: Why do you punish me? Tree 2: It is the truth. Tree 1: But they are all around. Tree 2: But we are around them too.
I’m asking you to become a producer of my thoughts. What I offer to you, is to create a pattern of choices, that are significant to us. I look at you, not because what you are doing right now, seems to show any of these future memories and feelings, but because of the predictability in the evolution of your actions. That, I was easily able to analyze in the evolvement of signs, you articulated in another time. I’m inviting you, so that this becomes a string of new projections and new interruptions. Something a different logic and uncontrolled construction will take on from. I am even looking at it with the intention to help certain people. I’m thinking to allow them a revisit of their analytical tools. What I am asking you for, is the productivity and the cruelty to the world of a specific gaze, something that partly already succeeded. It is something, that by nature will never be trapped in talking out loud and saying nothing... I stop here and hope, that this is were your intellectual fold cracks and opens the glossy surface to the reduced oxygen of our breaths and even falls a part, but certainly colors the paper all the way through in bright yellow. And I suppose to myself your regret as the most loving gesture imaginable. As your unwritable response to our generous fantasies. As a returned invitation letter translated into our mother tongues, soon readable for us. Your openness to a further sight into a linked universe, your memory of invisible gardens will shape our shells, will give contours to us and similarities, and shades, and surfaces, and sounds, clouds, and snakes eyes and the progeny of foxes in autumn.
I asked you to become an ally to my thoughts. What I suggested to you, was to create a pattern of choices, that were significant to us.
The biggest present you are giving to me is the white sky, but I promise I try to forget.
I invited you to this, not because what you were doing all this time, seemed to show any of these future memories and feelings, but because of my confidence in the evolution of your actions. That, I was easily able to synchronize to the evolvement of signs, I articulated in another time. I was imagining this to be a string of new projections and new interruptions. Something a different logic and uncontrolled construction could take on from. I was even looking at it with the intention to help certain people. I wanted to allow them a revisit of their analytical tools.
Space = … = espace give - take Cm = Km contures of a wave`
What I was asking for, was the productivity and the cruelty to the world of a specific gaze, that already partly succeeded. It was something, that by nature could never have been trapped in talking out loud and saying nothing...
Place Experiences subtle
And I suppose to myself your regret as the most loving gesture imaginable. As your unwritable response to my perceptive fantasies. As a returned invitation letter translated into your mother tongue, yet unreadable for me. Your resistance to a further stroke into a linked universe, your flooding of invisible gardens might shape our shells, might give contours to us and differences, and shades, and surfaces, and sounds, clouds, and snakes eyes and the death of bees in autumn. The challenges of togetherness inside a space expecting the common, lie at hand hereby.
Tree 1: I stretch in the morning Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I stretch at night Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I stretch in sleep Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I stretch in lying Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I shake in standing Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I shake on the surface Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I shake inside Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I shake as I pour Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I shake as I turn Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: Into the waves? Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: Into the wind? Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: Into the valley? Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: Come down to the shallows Tree 2: I shake in the evening
Tree 1: The floor shakes Tree 2: The light surrounds you and you are the light Tree 1: Back in a clear room Tree 2: Touch me first touch me once Tree 1: You might be confused, but my heads been sewn through my roof Tree 2: Everytime. Tree 1: You come through the door and I fall into the ground. Tree 2: I saw you practicing Tree 1: I though nobody would have noticed Tree 2: You were throwing your body into the ground Tree 1: I practice Tree 2: Across the landscapes of your limbs, you wanted to put them into the floor Tree 1: Shooting through the ground into a new town Tree 2: Rock and hit and landing Tree 1: How can you look so cold? Tree 2: Every motion moves you Tree 1: Every motion moves you closer to your death. Tree 2: Nothing of that here. Tree 1: I’d be there by now, fallen into a new sky Tree 2: Keep practicing Tree 1: Yes I do my warmups, my shakes, my stretches Tree 2: And you take what I give you? Tree 1: Of course, all that you give me, I take and I go there too and search Tree 2: And you still seek? Tree 1: I do not see Tree 2: Do you see how you leave me? Tree 1: It’s not about you Tree 2: Exactly, so you are with the other trees? Tree 1: Always Tree 2: And with those other plants? Tree 1: Always Tree 2: And the moon, has held you Tree 1: The gravel, and the soot Tree 2: After the moment has passed Tree 1: I hold on to it there Tree 2: Throw folds bends and circles Tree 1: my gray matter expands it does not shrink with age Tree 2: Your hippocampus “ in response to your experiences” Tree 1: I can do anything Tree 2: I can do anything Tree 1: Maybe it’s the high level gamma waves Tree 2: I’ve had enough of you Tree 1: I’ll make some ropes to grab
Dear Papa, Since 2 months in Berlin, It was many things to happen… too much thing to tell you, Miss u, 2014.11.25 Jieun from Berlin
WHITE SQUARES
The chances of togetherness inside a space expecting the common, lie at hand hereby. They put in glory the attempt for our global brain, a demand continuously risen, which now seems to collide with a return of the sands.
I stop here and ask myself, if this is were your intellectual fold cracks and opens the glossy surface to the reduced oxygen of our breaths and even falls a part, but certainly colors the paper all the way through in dark violet.
Tree 2: Everything is making sense. Tree 1: Touch me first Tree 2: I just want to hide. Tree 1: Touch me once Tree 2: I know you might be confused. Tree 1: I’ve always needed you Tree 2: Every time you come over I fall. Tree 1: Across all the landscapes Tree 2: Into the ground. Tree 2: Across the galaxies of time Tree 1: So fast. Tree 2: Why aren’t you scared Tree 1: I would give you everything. Tree 2: But you are already everything Tree 1: I’m never cold anymore, because you are near. Tree 2: I was never cold, I don’t know what that means, to be cold Tree 1: Time taking. Tree 2: To lend? Tree 1: Through the sky. Tree 2: I’d be there by now to see Tree 1: Where do you live? Tree 2: Far Tree 1: Do you not see how you leave me? Tree 2: We are still connected though Tree 1: But you will not give me anything. Tree 2: You will not take anything Tree 1: I take it all. Tree 2: Looking out Tree 1: Looking in Tree 2: Looking over Tree 1: Come closer Tree 2: Looking away
giving sounds movement attempts collective is not collaboration
Tree 1: When do you tell me? Tree 2: You see me always. Tree 1: When do you tell me? Tree 2: You don’t see me. Tree 1: I’m in I’m in I’m in I’m in I’m in Tree 2: I see you. Tree 1: I’m in a clear room
Tree 1: Like noise Tree 2: Like always Tree 1: Like noise Tree 2: Like air Tree 1: Like noise Tree 2: Burning like noise Tree 1: Come closer Tree 2: This is as close as we get Tree 1: Come closer Tree 2: The millimeters we grow in these years are enough. Tree 1: That is what I am tired from, waiting. Tree 2: You are naïve Tree 1: I have a face divided in 20021 parts Tree 2: So? I have a face divided in 0 parts, it is a whole. Tree 1: It is a hole. Tree 2: Make it last for the ages Tree 1: Despite all our conflicts I still adore you Tree 2: It lasts for the ages. Tree 1: You’re still mine Tree 2: For the ages Tree 1: Craft places that we can climb into, to find each other, there Tree 2: I have written some places for you to crawl into, when you need it Tree 1: Can’t you tell me them so I can listen and close my eyes? Tree 2: I have no throat to speak from Tree 1: I have no voice to speak to you with Tree 2: So read them Tree 1: I have read them Tree 2: So? Tree 1: I found you there. Tree 2: You didn’t. Tree 1: I searched for you there. Tree 2: You didn’t. Tree 1: I couldn’t find you anywhere. Tree 2: I was there already Tree 1: I imagined the places that you had stepped, and the things you had smelled there Tree 2: I was there with you Tree 1: You are lying through your teeth Tree 2: I have already told you, there are no teeth here to bite with Tree 1: You were not there, I tried to find you. Tree 2: I am always there Tree 1: I will try to find you there now, and you will not be there Tree 2: You are not looking Tree 1: I am always looking, I am always trying to find you Tree 2: I am there already though Tree 1: I am tired of waiting for you to tell me where I can find you. Tree 2: You have found me already Tree 1: I have found nothing. Tree 2: You have found everything. Tree 1: Where is it? Tree 2: You hold it all Tree 1: I’m no fool. Tree 2: You hold it all. Tree 1: I’ve lost faith in you. I don’t trust that you will be there. Tree 2: I am always there. Tree 1: Here: tell me where to go and I will look for you there Tree 2: But I am there already you don’t need to search. Tree 1: I think I understand. Tree 2: You don’t do either of those things. Tree 1: What hand will I have to offer you to hold? Tree 2: We have no hands. Tree 1: So we will never walk together like that, palms together Tree 2: We don’t need to touch to be together Tree 1: We don’t need anything then Tree 2: We have it all Tree 1: You have it all Tree 2: Look, you are rolling on the floor there. Tree 1: I am often rolling Tree 2: You are rolling inside too Tree 1: Everything is turning inside Tree 2: That’s why it’s good to shake. Tree 1: To let go Tree 2: To hide Tree 1: To drop Tree 2: To climb Tree 1: To move Tree 2: To shift Tree 1: So much so much so much so much Tree 2: Treasure finding Tree 1: Treasure hiding Tree 2: Without you Tree 1: Like living stars Tree 2: Purifying Tree 1: Exactly Tree 2: Lips made with fire Tree 1: Without mouths, we breathe Tree 2: Looking at facades
The White Squares is an International platform that explore public space in urban environment through multidisciplinary interventions. The ‘’White Squares’’are delimited zones within the public space, in which the artists, architects, musicians, cooks, politicians... are invited to create and develop an intervention for a given space. This project objective is to generate a dynamic of creation to dialogue with an uninformed public in an unexpected location. We attempt to find new strategies of infiltration, immersion and encryption in the context of the city.
Dear Berlin, I know you got a great story and unforgettable. But it was not enough to know about me. I walk on your territory I gaze your universe, I feel your warmth and your cold, I hear your noise when you suffer ... But I want more things about you ... I do not have much time. My dear Berlin, I’ll miss you ... 2014, Jieun from your world,
The city without you There is a moment of silence when every object is gray and projects grayness. Before the arrival of dawn,, there is neither light nor shadow, only a void between time and space. A place evolves and decays, at once liberating and repressing us. Glowing in the dark horizon. Like an insect attracted toward light. The blinding torch of a city. Pixels of light become windows. A vertical fortress pulls us towards its pulse. The towering tentacles of the metropolis spit steam into the sky. Its labyrinthine, steel filaments mesh together like roots of an overgrown tree. Back alleys made of refuse; clusters of deteriorated steel boxes, assembled from industrial parts. The streetlights reveal wretched, left-over spaces. Mechanical elements bulge from decrepit structures. Naked pipes wrap around each other in bondage. Loose wires, rusted steel panels, chipped paint, and layered walls capture the essence of the city. This sinful place does not creep into hiding; it exists. It is emotional, temperamental, irrational, discontinuous; it is as logical as we are. The city embodies memories, events, and anticipation. A manifestation of our lives, ideas, and knowledge, it is trapped by limitations and furthered by possibilities. We cannot help but find ourselves in its destruction and construction, its form and shadow, its ever-changing density and complexity, its pavement and its walls.
Tree 1: Quietly, quietly, Quietly. Tree 2: Dance dance dance d a n c e Tree 1: D a n c I n g I n g I n g I n g I n g I n g Tree 2: With a thousand lights Tree 1: Moments like these put in the fire light Tree 2: Tastes like star lights Tree 1: Tastes like burning Tree 2: Tastes like falling Tree 1: I want to fall forever Tree 2: To sink forever? Tree 1: Yes, into that gray lake you made Tree 2: I made it for you to fall into Tree 1: I am glad. Maybe we will be closer when we are stuck in there Tree 2: You follow the core of the earth, and fall into it and burn Tree 1: You don’t know the time Tree 2: We want to feel alive Tree 1: I follow the sun Tree 2: You fall into a hole of … Tree 1: Eaten by desire Tree 2: Still so young Tree 1: Yeah, so young Tree 2: So young Tree 1: Heaten, and eaten. Tree 2: Almost a man Tree 1: Almost a woman Tree 2: Bodies as soft as those voices back home Tree 1: As cool as those forest floors we slept on Tree 2: As touched as those redwoods Tree 1: Yes they get a lot of attention Tree 2: Too many people Tree 1: I’m in a mood Tree 2: You’re in a bath, of soft light
2014.11.25 Jieun from Berlin
Interior Space I enter. Isolated from the outer world, I am far from the hostility of modern life. Five A.M,, I escape the rays of dawn. Protected in this secret space, my anxiety diminishes as external restrictions begin to lose their hold. Transformers hum; automated lights awaken at my presence; dripping water synchronizes with the vibrations of my heart. A rubber pad floats beneath my exhausted body; raw pipes shield the broad ceiling above me. I swell with the pulse of the living unit. Preserved from the collective unconsciousness of society, I am no longer governed by the standards of culture. Incubated in my space, inactive by my will, I shake off the pressures of others’ ideology. I am liberated in my own isolation. 2014.11.25 Jieun from Berlin
Maia Nichols Maia Nichols (born 23 June 1984 or 27 June 1985) is a american artist. dancer, choreographer, video artist, peformer, whose work in these disciplines is frequently challenging and experimental. She is currently a member of the Art Department faculty at the University of California, Los Angeles. With her unique style, a blend of movement, sound, and prominent stage sets, and with her elaborate collaboration with performers during the development of a piece, she became a leading influence in the field of behaviour, interpretation and language exploration in the recent years. Life Maia Nichols was born on June 23, 1984 or june 27 1985 in Berkeley, California. Her parents, Peter and Juliette, considered themselves radicals. Her mother was of egyptian descent and her father of native american ancestry. As a child, she was sent to live at Sunnyside, a boarding institution in San Fransico, with her older brother Greg for several years. Her parents visited them each Sunday. By 1995, she moved back with her parents at the age of ten to a new house in the Sunset that she describes as “an unfamiliar neighborhood of white Protestant working class families.” From the age of twelve, she had been “exposed to the heady commingling of poets, painters, writers, and anarchists.” She went to University of British Columbia. She dropped out in the end of september 2011. At a very young age, her father introduced her to films, while her mother introduced her to ballet. While she was still at Sunnyside, her mother enrolled her in dance classes. Work In her work, Nichols focused on play and memory, and often juxtaposed the two in arbitrary combinations. Somewhat inspired by the chance tactics favored by Cunningham, Nichols work was a combination of classical art practice contrasted with everyday, ordinary, pedestrian movement. She used a great deal of repetition, and employed narrative and verbal noises (including wails, grunts, mumbles, squeaks, and shrieks, etc.) within the body of her works. Her pieces are constructed of short units of dialogue and action, often of a surreal nature. Repetition is an important structuring device. She showed solo work at the Whitechapel Gallery, London; the Dia Art Foundation, New York; the mumok, Vienna; the Museum of Modern Art, New York; the Centre Pompidou, Paris; and the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, among other venues. Nichols style influence performers such as David Bowie, who designed part of his 2013 MoonMoon Tour with Nichols in mind. Reading feminist writing and theory allowed Nichols to examine her own experience as a woman, and she was able to think of herself as a participant in culture and society. Nichols has taught at University of California, Los Angeles, the Maine College of Art, Vermont College, the Whitney Independent Study Program, Columbia University School of the Arts, and the Center for Curatorial Studies, Bard College In 2013, a major retrospective of her work was organized by the Museum Ludwig, Cologne, in conjunction with her receipt of the Wolfgang Hahn Prize.
Luda Lima` Luda Lima (born 1983) is a Brazilian illustrator and artist. She combines various techniques for the artwork in her books, including cutting and pasting, drawing, and painting. Limas style is sometimes surrealist and is widely copied inside and outside Brazil. She gradually became a main influence in the local scene, helping to define Brazil’s own style. Some of her books have challenging themes such as human relationships and theire feelings. They have won many awards, including the Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis in 2009 and 2013. According to Ana Silva, writing in the Brazilian newspaper Folha de S. Paulo, the “Lima-style,” whose main characters are skewed and sometimes disproportianate but nonetheless real recognizable, has become widely imitated inside and outside Brazil. For her “lasting contribution” as a illustrator Lima received the Hans Christian Andersen Medal in 2010 “With rage, bliss and the power of her simultaneity, Luda Lima has come to signify Brazilian painting itself to many viewers.” —Phillip Miller, Greg Johnson, Lost Art (October 2012). Art Brasil. Spree & Oder. p. 67. “Renowned for watercolor with a kind of intuitive understanding, she has also gained recognition for their fantastic characters...” —Nicholas Herb, Peter Hyde (October 2014). Art World: Illustration Art from Five Continents. Blue Sky. p. 89.
Dear Mamen, Since 2 months in Berlin, It was many things to happen… too much thing to tell you, Miss u, 2014.11.25 Jieun from Berlin
Tree 1: Today I am tired Tree 2: You cannot be tired Tree 1: Today I am Tree 2: You must have heard that on the radio somewhere Tree 1: Ellis said it once Tree 2: You don’t get tired, you don’t sleep, you don’t wake Tree 1: I am saying it so that I will believe it, and become tired like this Tree 2: Tiredness is for those others amongst us, you don’t have that burden Tree 1: But I would like to Tree 2: But you don’t Tree 1: My energy never fades Tree 2: You hold it Tree 1: It holds me Tree 2: It holds you Tree 1: I let it go Tree 2: I gather it up Tree 1: You hold it too Tree 2: I hold the energy of the universe in these roots Tree 1: You carry it? Tree 2: It carries me Tree 1: Same for me. Tree 2: And it connects us. Tree 1: Is that why you will never tell me? Tree 2: I will tell you, when the others are gone. Tree 1: When will they be gone? Tree 2: When you are listening. Tree 1: But I am always listening. Tree 2: But there are others listening. Tree 1: They will never disappear. Tree 2: They are there, but they are not, there is just us. Tree 1: Why do you punish me? Tree 2: It is the truth. Tree 1: But they are all around. Tree 2: But we are around them too.
I’m asking you to become a producer of my thoughts. What I offer to you, is to create a pattern of choices, that are significant to us. I look at you, not because what you are doing right now, seems to show any of these future memories and feelings, but because of the predictability in the evolution of your actions. That, I was easily able to analyze in the evolvement of signs, you articulated in another time. I’m inviting you, so that this becomes a string of new projections and new interruptions. Something a different logic and uncontrolled construction will take on from. I am even looking at it with the intention to help certain people. I’m thinking to allow them a revisit of their analytical tools. What I am asking you for, is the productivity and the cruelty to the world of a specific gaze, something that partly already succeeded. It is something, that by nature will never be trapped in talking out loud and saying nothing... I stop here and hope, that this is were your intellectual fold cracks and opens the glossy surface to the reduced oxygen of our breaths and even falls a part, but certainly colors the paper all the way through in bright blue. And I suppose to myself your regret as the most loving gesture imaginable. As your unwritable response to our generous fantasies. As a returned invitation letter translated into our mother tongues, soon readable for us. Your openness to a further sight into a linked universe, your memory of invisible gardens will shape our shells, will give contours to us and similarities, and shades, and surfaces, and sounds, clouds, and snakes eyes and the progeny of foxes in autumn. The chances of togetherness inside a space expecting the common, lie at hand hereby. They put in glory the attempt for our global brain, a demand continuously risen, which now seems to collide with a return of the sands. The biggest present you are giving to me is the white square, but I promise I try to forget.
Space = … = espace give - take Cm = Km contures of a wave`
Place Experiences subtle
giving sounds movement attempts collective is not collaboration
Tree 1: I stretch in the morning Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I stretch at night Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I stretch in sleep Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I stretch in lying Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I shake in standing Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I shake on the surface Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I shake inside Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I shake as I pour Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: I shake as I turn Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: Into the waves? Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: Into the wind? Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: Into the valley? Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: Come down to the shallows Tree 2: I shake in the evening Tree 1: Like noise Tree 2: Like always Tree 1: Like noise Tree 2: Like air Tree 1: Like noise Tree 2: Burning like noise Tree 1: Come closer Tree 2: This is as close as we get Tree 1: Come closer Tree 2: The millimeters we grow in these years are enough. Tree 1: That is what I am tired from, waiting. Tree 2: You are naïve Tree 1: I have a face divided in 20021 parts Tree 2: So? I have a face divided in 0 parts, it is a whole. Tree 1: It is a hole. Tree 2: Make it last for the ages Tree 1: Despite all our conflicts I still adore you Tree 2: It lasts for the ages. Tree 1: You’re still mine Tree 2: For the ages Tree 1: Craft places that we can climb into, to find each other, there Tree 2: I have written some places for you to crawl into, when you need it Tree 1: Can’t you tell me them so I can listen and close my eyes? Tree 2: I have no throat to speak from Tree 1: I have no voice to speak to you with Tree 2: So read them Tree 1: I have read them Tree 2: So? Tree 1: I found you there. Tree 2: You didn’t. Tree 1: I searched for you there. Tree 2: You didn’t. Tree 1: I couldn’t find you anywhere. Tree 2: I was there already Tree 1: I imagined the places that you had stepped, and the things you had smelled there Tree 2: I was there with you Tree 1: You are lying through your teeth Tree 2: I have already told you, there are no teeth here to bite with Tree 1: You were not there, I tried to find you. Tree 2: I am always there Tree 1: I will try to find you there now, and you will not be there Tree 2: You are not looking Tree 1: I am always looking, I am always trying to find you Tree 2: I am there already though Tree 1: I am tired of waiting for you to tell me where I can find you. Tree 2: You have found me already Tree 1: I have found nothing. Tree 2: You have found everything. Tree 1: Where is it? Tree 2: You hold it all Tree 1: I’m no fool. Tree 2: You hold it all. Tree 1: I’ve lost faith in you. I don’t trust that you will be there. Tree 2: I am always there. Tree 1: Here: tell me where to go and I will look for you there Tree 2: But I am there already you don’t need to search. Tree 1: I think I understand. Tree 2: You don’t do either of those things. Tree 1: What hand will I have to offer you to hold? Tree 2: We have no hands. Tree 1: So we will never walk together like that, palms together Tree 2: We don’t need to touch to be together Tree 1: We don’t need anything then Tree 2: We have it all Tree 1: You have it all Tree 2: Look, you are rolling on the floor there. Tree 1: I am often rolling Tree 2: You are rolling inside too Tree 1: Everything is turning inside Tree 2: That’s why it’s good to shake. Tree 1: To let go Tree 2: To hide Tree 1: To drop Tree 2: To climb Tree 1: To move Tree 2: To shift Tree 1: So much so much so much so much Tree 2: Treasure finding Tree 1: Treasure hiding Tree 2: Without you Tree 1: Like living stars Tree 2: Purifying Tree 1: Exactly Tree 2: Lips made with fire Tree 1: Without mouths, we breathe Tree 2: Looking at facades
Tree 1: When do you tell me? Tree 2: You see me always. Tree 1: When do you tell me? Tree 2: You don’t see me. Tree 1: I’m in I’m in I’m in I’m in I’m in Tree 2: I see you. Tree 1: I’m in a clear room Tree 2: Everything is making sense. Tree 1: Touch me first Tree 2: I just want to hide. Tree 1: Touch me once Tree 2: I know you might be confused. Tree 1: I’ve always needed you Tree 2: Every time you come over I fall. Tree 1: Across all the landscapes Tree 2: Into the ground. Tree 2: Across the galaxies of time Tree 1: So fast. Tree 2: Why aren’t you scared Tree 1: I would give you everything. Tree 2: But you are already everything Tree 1: I’m never cold anymore, because you are near. Tree 2: I was never cold, I don’t know what that means, to be cold Tree 1: Time taking. Tree 2: To lend? Tree 1: Through the sky. Tree 2: I’d be there by now to see Tree 1: Where do you live? Tree 2: Far Tree 1: Do you not see how you leave me? Tree 2: We are still connected though Tree 1: But you will not give me anything. Tree 2: You will not take anything Tree 1: I take it all. Tree 2: Looking out Tree 1: Looking in Tree 2: Looking over Tree 1: Come closer Tree 2: Looking away
Miss u, 2014.11.25 Jieun from Berlin
The city without you I wanted you to become an enemy to my thoughts. What I demanded from you, was to create a pattern of choices, that were significant to them. I turned to you, not because what you were doing all this time, seemed to show any of these future memories and feelings, but because of the ambiguity in the evolution of your actions. That, I was easily able to analyze in comparison to the evolvement of signs, I articulated in another time. I was forcing this to be a string of new projections and new interruptions. Something a different logic and uncontrolled construction could take on from. I was even looking at it under the premise to help certain people. I wanted to allow them a revisit of their analytical tools. What I was asking for, was the productivity and the cruelty to the world of a specific gaze, that never even partly succeeded. It was something, that by nature could never have been trapped in talking out loud and saying nothing... I stop here and ask myself, if this is were your intellectual fold cracks and opens the glossy surface to the reduced oxygen of our breaths and even falls a part, but certainly colors the paper all the way through in deep blue. I question my perception to this as your loving gesture imaginable. This unwritable response to your perceptive fantasies. This returned invitation letter translated into your mother tongue, yet unreadable for anyone.
What I suggested to you, was to create a pattern of choices, that were significant to us. I invited you to this, not because what you were doing all this time, seemed to show any of these future memories and feelings, but because of my confidence in the evolution of your actions. That, I was easily able to synchronize to the evolvement of signs, I articulated in another time.
The challenges of togetherness inside a space expecting the common, lie at hand hereby. They put in question the attempt for our global brain, a demand continuously risen, which now seems to collide with a return of the sands.
I was imagining this to be a string of new projections and new interruptions. Something a different logic and uncontrolled construction could take on from. I was even looking at it with the intention to help certain people. I wanted to allow them a revisit of their analytical tools.
The biggest present, that you said you gave to me is the white square and I promise I try to forget.
I asked you to become an ally to my thoughts.
And I suppose to myself your regret as the most loving gesture imaginable. As your unwritable response to my perceptive fantasies. As a returned invitation letter translated into your mother tongue, yet unreadable for me.
Looking through the glasses Looking through the windows Looking throughout people
Interior Space
The challenges of togetherness inside a space expecting the common, lie at hand hereby. They put in question the attempt for our global brain, a demand continuously risen, which now seems to collide with a return of the sands. The biggest present, that you gave me is the white square and I promise I try to forget.
2014.11.25 Jieun from Berlin
There is a moment of silence when every object is gray and projects grayness. Before the arrival of dawn, there is neither light nor shadow, only a void between time and space. A place evolves and decays, at once liberating and repressing us. Glowing in the dark horizon. Like an insect attracted toward light. The blinding torch of a city. Pixels of light become windows. A vertical fortress pulls us towards its pulse. The towering tentacles of the metropolis spit steam into the sky. Its labyrinthine, steel filaments mesh together like roots of an overgrown tree. Back alleys made of refuse; clusters of deteriorated steel boxes, assembled from industrial parts. The streetlights reveal wretched, left-over spaces. Mechanical elements bulge from decrepit structures. Naked pipes wrap around each other in bondage. Loose wires, rusted steel panels, chipped paint, and layered walls capture the essence of the city. This sinful place does not creep into hiding; it exists. It is emotional, temperamental, irrational, discontinuous; it is as logical as we are. The city embodies memories, events, and anticipation. A manifestation of our lives, ideas, and knowledge, it is trapped by limitations and furthered by possibilities. We cannot help but find ourselves in its destruction and construction, its form and shadow, its ever-changing density and complexity, its pavement and its walls. 2014.11.25 Jieun from Berlin
How is your relationship with the space?
WHITE SQUARES
I enter. Isolated from the outer world, I am far from the hostility of modern life. Five A.M,, I escape the rays of dawn. Protected in this secret space, my anxiety diminishes as external restrictions begin to lose their hold. Transformers hum; automated lights awaken at my presence; dripping water synchronizes with the vibrations of my heart. A rubber pad floats beneath my exhausted body; raw pipes shield the broad ceiling above me. I swell with the pulse of the living unit. Preserved from the collective unconsciousness of society, I am no longer governed by the standards of culture. Incubated in my space, inactive by my will, I shake off the pressures of others’ ideology. I am liberated in my own isolation.
Your resistance to a further stroke into a linked universe, your flooding of invisible gardens might shape our shells, might give contours to us and differences, and shades, and surfaces, and sounds, clouds, and snakes eyes and the death of bees in autumn.
Tree 1: Quietly, quietly, Quietly. Tree 2: Dance dance dance d a n c e Tree 1: D a n c I n g I n g I n g I n g I n g I n g Tree 2: With a thousand lights Tree 1: Moments like these put in the fire light Tree 2: Tastes like star lights Tree 1: Tastes like burning Tree 2: Tastes like falling Tree 1: I want to fall forever Tree 2: To sink forever? Tree 1: Yes, into that gray lake you made Tree 2: I made it for you to fall into Tree 1: I am glad. Maybe we will be closer when we are stuck in there Tree 2: You follow the core of the earth, and fall into it and burn Tree 1: You don’t know the time Tree 2: We want to feel alive Tree 1: I follow the sun Tree 2: You fall into a hole of … Tree 1: Eaten by desire Tree 2: Still so young Tree 1: Yeah, so young Tree 2: So young Tree 1: Heaten, and eaten. Tree 2: Almost a man Tree 1: Almost a woman Tree 2: Bodies as soft as those voices back home Tree 1: As cool as those forest floors we slept on Tree 2: As touched as those redwoods Tree 1: Yes they get a lot of attention Tree 2: Too many people Tree 1: I’m in a mood Tree 2: You’re in a bath, of soft light Tree 1: The floor shakes Tree 2: The light surrounds you and you are the light Tree 1: Back in a clear room Tree 2: Touch me first touch me once Tree 1: You might be confused, but my heads been sewn through my roof Tree 2: Everytime. Tree 1: You come through the door and I fall into the ground. Tree 2: I saw you practicing Tree 1: I though nobody would have noticed Tree 2: You were throwing your body into the ground Tree 1: I practice Tree 2: Across the landscapes of your limbs, you wanted to put them into the floor Tree 1: Shooting through the ground into a new town Tree 2: Rock and hit and landing Tree 1: How can you look so cold? Tree 2: Every motion moves you Tree 1: Every motion moves you closer to your death. Tree 2: Nothing of that here. Tree 1: I’d be there by now, fallen into a new sky Tree 2: Keep practicing Tree 1: Yes I do my warmups, my shakes, my stretches Tree 2: And you take what I give you? Tree 1: Of course, all that you give me, I take and I go there too and search Tree 2: And you still seek? Tree 1: I do not see Tree 2: Do you see how you leave me? Tree 1: It’s not about you Tree 2: Exactly, so you are with the other trees? Tree 1: Always Tree 2: And with those other plants? Tree 1: Always Tree 2: And the moon, has held you Tree 1: The gravel, and the soot Tree 2: After the moment has passed Tree 1: I hold on to it there Tree 2: Throw folds bends and circles Tree 1: my gray matter expands it does not shrink with age Tree 2: Your hippocampus “ in response to your experiences” Tree 1: I can do anything Tree 2: I can do anything Tree 1: Maybe it’s the high level gamma waves Tree 2: I’ve had enough of you Tree 1: I’ll make some ropes to grab
Since 2 months in Berlin, It was many things to happen… too much thing to tell you,
This resistance to a further stroke into a linked universe, this flooding of invisible gardens might shape our shells, might give contours to us and differences, and shades, and surfaces, and sounds, clouds, and snakes eyes and the death of grass in autumn.
I stop here and ask myself, if this is were your intellectual fold cracks and opens the glossy surface to the reduced oxygen of our breaths and even falls a part, but certainly colors the paper all the way through in dark blue.
2014, Jieun from your world,
Dear Papa,
Look through? “
What I was asking for, was the productivity and the cruelty to the world of a specific gaze, that already partly succeeded. It was something, that by nature could never have been trapped in talking out loud and saying nothing...
Dear Berlin, I know you got a great story and unforgettable. But it was not enough to know about me. I walk on your territory I gaze your universe, I feel your warmth and your cold, I hear your noise when you suffer ... But I want more things about you ... I do not have much time. My dear Berlin, I’ll miss you ...
The White Squares is an International platform that explore public space in urban environment through multidisciplinary interventions. The ‘’White Squares’’are delimited zones within the public space, in which the artists, architects, musicians, cooks, politicians... are invited to create and develop an intervention for a given space. This project objective is to generate a dynamic of creation to dialogue with an uninformed public in an unexpected location. We attempt to find new strategies of infiltration, immersion and encryption in the context of the city.
Together Feel White Squares
Share
The role of the deviationist
What is this Blue? Wear it.
‘ Ho wt op r e s e r v eo u rp e a c e f u ld i f f e r e n c e s ’ Mo d e l sf o rDi f f e r e n c e s
1 2 . 1 2 . 2 0 1 4-1 8 . 1 2 . 2 0 1 4
Le o nEi x e n b e r g e r Es j i e u nKi m Lu d aLi ma Ma i aNi c h o l s Vi c t o rRe me r e Vi n z e n zRe i n e c k e