Category: text

slow art manifesto

So what can we do? Be bold? Make statements?

— The value of art is neither predictable nor calculable.
— Art is not consumption. A work of art does not become scarce when it is ‘used’. Therefore economic laws do not apply to art.
— Art is not a matter of supply and demand. The market can only demand what is already known. What the public wants can therefore never become a creative or artistic factor.
— Art is discipline. It demands dedication of both artists and audiences.
— The artist should not take part in competitions. Undermine competition by looking at both the weakest and best things of each other and join in to formulate something completely different.
— Pragmatic solutions are always second best.
— If you apply for something and you need to fill out a form, first change the form to accommodate the work of art you have in mind, then fill it out.
— If you care for something, create yourself the conditions in which to develop it. Don’t adapt your ideas to time frames, formats and procedures imposed by institutions and managers.
— Formatting leads to monocultures. Life and evolution rely on diversity.
— A cultural field without artist-run organizations is unhealthy. Distrust artist communities that rely on the already existing institutions. Also distrust governments that claim that art is important, but subsequently fail to recognize artist initiatives.
— Art is not meant for ‘target groups’, art is for everybody.
The text entitled Slow Art is the result of discussion, reflection and collective writing, carried out by a group of people as part of the Open House team. It is a starting point, an invitation to think collectively about artistic practice and how we organize it in the here and now. “Slow” is our matter of concern. Equivalent toSlow Science or Slow Food, it makes a case against the product oriented and economic supremacy of the neoliberal society we live in.

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writing TIKS

creative writing on collective basis, korcula seen in slow motion:
Location: croatia, korcula, grey area
Keywords: windclock, workshop, time inventors’ kabinet, TIK, screwing

Closeup of a hand making a bolt spin along a rod of metal. Glimpses of the transparent construction it is a part of. Hand screwing a nut on a tige, inside studio/workshop.
A black screen is followed by some compression errors in the video. Then we see a hand screwing down a nut on a rod, first with the index and middel fingers, then with support of the thumb. In the background we see a piece of clothing on a chair. Light falls in from the left. The nut descends into a clear plastic object, a WindClock in construction. The hand secures the nut. We hear people in a room, objects being moved.
We hear a dialogue:
Guy:“Great idea ????”
Barb:“Who had this great idea?”
Barb laughs.
Guy: “I know it sounds radical, to ?? data from the server”.
Barb laughs.
Ralf talks, unintelligible, a metal object falls.
Nut is screwing down.

    * here comes my code

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OpenGreens – GreenGlossary

the Green Studies reader – from Romanticism to Ecocriticism
edited by Laurence Coupe, Routledge – 2000

thoughts – kristin prevallet

I am in India, in a small village, where an ashram has been built for women and girls to learn about their right to be educated.
As with all the houses in the village, the ashram is made out of clay. Slogans are painted onto the walls to help boost the revolutionary spirit of the place.
“Lack of knowledge is the cause of fear,” You can kill the body but never the spirit,” Work is worship.”

The ashram also serves as ground zero for a group of poor farmers attempting to seize land from the wealthy, large landowners who live in the cities. The farmers have successfully seized 20,000 acres.
The man in charge of this struggle was educated in Deli, and his philosophy of land ownership is derived not from Marx, but rather from the true democracy established by tribal systems-particularly the Iroquois constitution, which historically is the document on which America’s constitution is based.

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representation – kristin prevallet

Today I am remembered as ghost, bloodsucker, banshee who fooled the camera because I have no reflection. I could go underground and no one would notice, fool Interpol and travel the globe: Johannesburg, Brussels, New York. I learned from Matsumoto to burn the tips of my fingers in order to rip off my prints. I learned to look into one person’s face and see the world. I saw myself in the world, and traveled through people’s faces. I am a ghost, and they are aliens. We are all aliens in our own home towns. There is no record of me. My passport shows me blurred into the background. I am dream-man, and I have oceans in my mind. I had a dream about a book thick and old, called UFO stories. I pulled it from the shelf and instantly knew aliens were asking me questions. They wanted to know about my home town in the global village but I couldn’t read the words:

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