Bradley Davies, Pablo Schlumberger, Isabella Fürnkäs, Lena Anouk Philipp, Jasmin Werner, Isabella Fürnkäs, Christof Lötscher, Afi Barbut, Victor Payares, Paul Czerlitzki, Guillermo Federico Heinze
„Carry Corders of the world unite. You have nothing to lose but your pre-recordings.” In his 1962 novel The Ticket That Exploded, William S. Burroughs imagines that the human body contains within it a set of „pre-recordings” that behave like parasites, always ready to take over. The only way to fight back is to record the pre-recordings and then cut them up, displace them, play them against each other, and allow the ensuing distortions and hallucinations to produce another world.
Jenny Gheith and Anthony Huberman
My display lights up in the dark. „Get some Headspace“, the app asks me in a push message. Maybe tomorrow. I am feeling okay. I‘m lying on the bed in my apartment, a bit beside of me. The furniture and objects around me tell me something. But the longer I look at them, the more they become secretive. Like my head, they are containers that hide something in themselves. Patterns become landscapes. Form does not follow function. More is more. In the apartment of Ralph Schuster the exhibition makes an interior accessible that recalls deliberately private conversations. We want to see the interior as a sheltered space, where both the home and the ulterior meet, as the starting point for a broadening of consciousness. (A counter model to the Neo-Biedermeier home as a place of retreat into private life.) Accor-ding to Carl Gustav Jung‘s archetypal theories, the individual and the collective clash in the sub consciousness. Although neo-capitalism has emerged in many ways from the ideas of 1960‘s counterculture, it has clearly made individuality the highest value. It is cold outside. „Get some Headspace.“