image text special

'Robin', a Group Show at Yaby, Madrid

article image; primary-color: #61656E;
article image; primary-color: #55585D;
article image; primary-color: #5D6067;
article image; primary-color: #838792;
article image; primary-color: #969FAE;
article image; primary-color: #3D3D3F;
article image; primary-color: #3A393E;
article image; primary-color: #414246;
article image; primary-color: #4A5460;
article image; primary-color: #363739;
article image; primary-color: #35393A;
article image; primary-color: #555B73;
article image; primary-color: #6C778B;
article image; primary-color: #484848;
article image; primary-color: #494C51;

She who is eaten death returning (Nightwood, Djuna Barnes, 1936) is lying unconscious on her bed, surrounded by a confusion of plants, flowers and birds singing that we cannot see.

It is in the midst of this confusion that she introduces herself to us. Asleep, she is the ration of carnivorous flowers in the ravenous jungle that has become her room. Dreaming, she goes into the earth and comes back out of it, back from it, eaten.

She slumbers her way out of the Kingdom through fantasy and reminiscence, exhuming depths where time is wide not long.

The body, still, gives in, is hooked and conquered; the self drops: just an echo, then a shudder. Forces indistinctly vital and fatal traverse matter, tethering moments disorderly on complex temporal axes.

She survives the night: she only took a little while dead before coming back to life dressed to kill, garnished with the unknowable.

“The woman who presents herself to the spectator as a ‘picture’ forever arranged is, for the contemplative mind, the chiefest danger. Sometimes one meets a woman who is a beast turning human.” Beast insofar as she is not human.

She was and is before humans. “Such a woman is the infected carrier of the past: before her the structure of our head and jaws ache—we feel that we could eat her, she who is eaten death returning, for only then do we put our face close to the blood of our forefathers.”

She is before and after nature, above it and below it, arranging herself sometimes as the hypnotising portrait of it, in and through a dream of it, mocking and tripping its one-way wheel of survival and reproduction. Her own particular cycle is one of life and death, night and day, returning —extinction and stolid underlay. An excremental perseverance. A shitstorm.

15.12.18 — 30.12.18

Laura Costas, Sarah Księska, Hannah Regel, Anna Slama & Marek Delong

Photo by Alberto Vallejo

Yaby

Antoni Hervás at Okela Sormen Lantegia, Bilbao

'La fuite et l’enveloppe' by Maxime Bichon at Treignac Projet, Treignac

'The Man-Servant' by Manuel Cornelius and Georg Thanner at Nails projectroom, Due

'Wrought Bundle' by Garrett Lockhart at Afternoon Projects, Vancouver

'Heavy Middle' by Thomas Moor at Stiftung BINZ39, Zurich

'The Alchemist' by Matyáš Chochola at Gossamer Fog, London

'Ich und mein Modell' by Cosima zu Knyphausen at Stadium, Berlin

'WALLWERK', Group Show at Nir Altman, Munich

'Chagrin de merde' by Angélique Aubrit, Ludovic Beillard, Hugo Dinër at Etablisse

'From Larva to Ghost' by Victor Gogly at Light-harvesting Complex, Vantaa

Transformella (aLifveForm fed and cared for by JP Raether) in Cinis’ Forking [4.4

'Today could be your day', Group Show Curated by Ali A. Maderuelo and Julia Caste

'God Is in the Details', Group Show Curated by Reilly Davidson at Super Dutchess,

'ANGEL' by Kaspar Müller at NICO, Bari

'Barren Oracle, Breath of Cinders' by Urbain Checcaroni & Hanna Umin, Presented b

'The Garden of my hopes' by Olga Krykun feat. Milica Mijajlovic at Zadní dvorek,

Misunderstanding as a tool. Michele Gabriele in conversation with Zoë de Luca

'Sleep No More', Group Show Curated by Fiona Vilmer & Liza Maignan at Placement P

Next Page