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Matyáš Chochola, student of scuture at the Academy of Visual Arts, Brno, was in Prague for the summer. When the Sculpture Grande exposition was set out on Wenceslas Square, Chochola had a lot of time on his hands. He befriended some homeless people who’d been living on a Vltava river island. They found material from containers and used a lot of tape. One day they decided to go install the whole thing. The sculptures held together for a couple of days, and photographs were presented at the department of macromolecular chemistry in Prague, where there is a gallery called Makráč. To be continued…
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If you know your way around, you might discover that every month and maybe even every week you stand the chance to receive money for your cultural project. Successful applicants have enough money, average applicants have enough to keep their mouths shut, and the unsuccessful ones are kept in check by the chance that they might get lucky in the future. One natural result has been the emergence of…
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Nick Land was a British philosopher but is no longer, though he is not dead. The almost neurotic fervor with which he scratched at the scars of reality has seduced more than a few promising academics onto the path of art that offends in its originality. The texts that he has left behind are reliably revolting and boring, and impel us to castrate their categorization as “mere” literature.
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An American poet was invited to the White House in order to read his controversial plagiarized poetry. All tricked out and ready to do it his way, he comes to the “scandalous” realization that nothing bothers anyone anymore, and instead of banging your head against the wall it is better to build you own walls or at least little fences.
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