8TH CZECH-SWISS SYMPOSIUM LITOMYŠL / WHY THIS WORLD
DATE OF THE EXHIBITION: 14 .9. - 20 November 2019
EXHIBITION CURATORS: ADAM BUDAK (CZE) LORENZO BENEDETTI (CH)
CZE: Habima Fuchs, Jitka Hanzlová, Kateřina Vincourová
CH: Stefan Burger, Katalin Deer, Sara Masüger, Ilona Rueg
why this world
…why not another. this exhibition acknowledges the plurality of (a) world around us. why this. the one we live and breathe, why not another, a different one, the other, next to this one, no hierarchical order applied nor obeyed; a mirage of doubt, hinting at the choice and the given. not a question; a destiny, and an affect (its incandescence). why. why? the rose blossoms without a why.
so what is this world we live in? made of algorithms? composed of flowers? woven of nests? of surfaces? of volatile bodies? of us? of you? isn’t it enough? what witchcraft life is? science and its melancholia marries the seduction of banality while longing for happiness in an awe of failure. can you hear me? can you see me in a mirror you painted? the world whispers, shamed by the metaphysics of its own withdrawal: let’s rehearse our inadequacy again; picture in a picture, all inclusive: sorrow of separation; despair of loneliness; torment of a juvenile desire. let’s continue. it’s up to you, fleur de lis.
enveloped in silence, on the edge of words and beyond the speech, compulsively in-between texts, our lyrical articulation is a mystical, nuanced quest for a precision of a vernacular sensation. simultaneously, immersed and abandoned, we recount mishaps and illusions. avoiding calibration, we embrace elusiveness. ours is a cry for an emancipated tenderness; a nascent sense of self-awareness haunts us at the nocturnal moment of serendipity. Taming her, we are untamed by her, enslaved in firm arms of words, “fourth dimensions”; a glorious bracelet of meaning is both a trophy and a nonchalant evidence of a jaded self. dawn and dusk, my favorite transgressions, comfort in a passage. I am dreaming a decadence of the unconditional. I am a vibrant and crystalline burst of clarinet.
seven voices, pulsations, pure movement. I want every sentence of this book to be a climax.
Text by Adam Henryk Budak
