The performance takes place during a party. The performer is dressed somewhat clown-like and is a member of the audience. The performer sits, walks around, makes small-talk, observes, drinks, attempts to snatch peanuts and smokes. Afterwards a report of the performer’s experience has been made. This report, combined with pictures of the particular evening and a discreet male voice-over, are put together into a video.
Cornelius Norbertus Gijsbrechts:
Trompe l’oeil. The Reverse of a Framed Painting
(c. 1610 – after 1675)
With the absence of the frame that traditionally serves as the architectural transition between the spectator’s reality and the picture’s painted universe, this work by the Flemish painter Gijsbrechts is moving beyond the usual realms of art and into the illusionistic domains of the stage…
As a research project, Jeroen van Loon started an Analogue Blog during his computer-less period in the From Digital to Analogue project. Instead of working with bites and bytes, this blog uses the traditional post-system. Everybody could subscribe to the blog by sending the necessary information (name, age, occupation and address) to his home address.
In the darkness of a cinema space, the audience sits blindfolded. Behind each row of audience members is a row of children who in hushed voices describe a film only they can see. Accompanied by the soundtrack (which has no dialogue), the whispered descriptions are a fragile, fragmentary and at times struggling but courageous attempt by the children to make sense of what they see projected on the screen.
Today at 02:20 PM a bucket of water was poured out in a sink in Rotterdam, Netherlands (51.918613, 4.488538).
At exactly that time in Oranienburg, Germany (52.684269, 13.266830), a bucket was filled with water from a tap.
“How do we speak about sound? Last winter I was wondering what vocabulary I use to describe it. Besides, I was thinking about how what we say or tell is often a misinterpretation, even when it comes to recognizing one’s own feelings.
I wondered if listening to my heart beat, regularly, over a period of time, keeping notes of what I hear, might bring up something I wouldn’t have been able to admit or recognize myself.
Using a stethoscope, I listened to my heart over seven days, three times a day, for five minutes each time. I was surprised to find out that a relationship had developed with this internal organ. Later it became clear that a book is also a body – it has a spine, a paper-skin surface to come in contact with, and it reveals its content gradually”.