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A friend of mine, a developer, decided to do something for the arts. He chose to enforce this enlightened mission because there is simply no other way to do it in a society lacking a sufficiently large enough group of snobs, where even state representatives place their bookshelves out on the balcony. This developer will buy a huge piece of land, about 1,230 acres, and build 5,000 family homes, a very sought after commodity in post-Communist countries with generations of people suffering from concrete block-of-flat trauma. The family homes will be no cheaply constructed monsters; they will be modern, efficient, simple and affordable. However there will be a couple of conditions before buying the house: the buyer will have to acquire a painting by a contemporary artist (included in the price of the house). Condition number two: the painting will have to be hung in the house for a period of at least one year, and the inhabitants will have to learn to live with it. The buyer will be allowed to pick the painting from a catalogue. The developer believes that the inhabitants will, in the end, grow attached to the work of art, and they won’t take it down after twelve months. They won’t be able to return it. This forced, enlightened rationing may, however, result in the completely opposite effect. After a year of frequently unannounced visits by the developer’s employees, the resident will be happy to toss the painting, closing the circle and we’re back at the balcony. Mission Impossible.
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Contents of the new issue.
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Borrowing heavily from fairy tales, fables and science fiction, the art of Magda Tóthová revolves around modern utopias and social models and their failures. Her works address personal and social issues, both the private and the political. The stylistic device of personification is central to the social criticism emblematic of her work and to the negotiation of concepts used to construct norms.…
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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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