COMPOSITION FOR PREPARED PIANO, FOUR HANDS
The sun is shining. A wreck of reality leaves us stranded on this plastic island drifting through a melting ocean. – I wish the water would make smooth shards sharp.
It starts in the quarry. Steel tubes, wooden planks, copper cables and a lesser staircase. Rounded glass, mesh panels, match boxes, another door. Meshed gates, kitchen and bath; gypsum. SPOLIA absorbs energy from an external force and deforms elastically – first day of disco. A monument of political dependencies, a clash of ecosystems, art in the gallery, elevators on office towers. We look back to the future and towards the past. Archeological tools at (de)construction site. One says: Persist on building, digging, finding, collecting, assembling. Ongoing action to produce meanings. Input: Strange simultaneity of icons – immediate, available, and ready to be transformed. Output: Remnants reorganised to serve architecture and its demands.
Take a moment to locate the exit nearest to you, keeping in mind that the closest usable exit may be located behind you.
What happens backstage when the spectacle is over? Precious appropriation of the ordinary: Alchemy! If salt is turned into gold, you merely get tasteless nuggets. Value comes out of scarcity. The shortage is the goal. So why would anyone want to back transformation? – Keep it up, Baby! It’s cool to thrift when you are rich.
One kilometer into the mountain and you find its lungs. The past wears its weight as monuments wrapped in shiny plastic paper or shimmering images on a draped screen. Arcadia on fire. It is a dense fog of icons that we appropriate through friction or let fade away in the mist.
Moss colonizes debris, lichen spreads across shattered rocks. Acidity dissolves. This fragile interplay of living and lifeless becomes fertile ground. Atomic power, good at breaking things. Unattracted satellites blossom under the [silent] quilt. Uploaded, downloaded, shared, reformatted and reedited, no copyright authorship 404 NOT FOUND. I disappear, yet my brand is everywhere. Reset parameters of value, design a script to combine things. Nothing is grotesque. Spolia no longer preserve, nor discard, just transpose.
Contributors
Marc Angélil, Charles André, Gabriel Biselli, Paul Dillier, Vinicius Duarte, Gabriyel Dari, Merlin Ehlers, Lida Freudenreich, Lorenzo Franceschini, Dragos Ghioca, Stephen Griek, Eva Klymiuk, Hamish Lonergan, Maximilian Lewark, Ian Lowrie, Camila Medina, Lovre Mohorič, Marion Mouny, Isabelle Nguyen, Alice Proietti, Thiago Peterhans, Corinne Räz, Nora Tahiraj, Lucas Vollbracht, Gerlinde Verhaeghe, Anina Wechsler, Simon Zimmermann, Kaspar Zilian
Editors
Maud Haas, Vitus Michel, Simon Nougué, Gabriela Sad
Table of content
Gendered Fragments
We Grew Up in a Monastery
A Tree in a Pot in a Party
99¢ Architecture – Story of a California – Countryside Construction Experiment
Visually Illiterate
A Conversation with Lina Ghotmeh
René Haubensaks Spielruine – Eine Wiederentdeckung im gta Archiv
New Classicism and the «Unspeakable Vice of the Greeks»
The Oval Office
The Bismarck Memorial of Gunzenhausen
Memories of Delos
Vom Schutz des subversiven Denkens
Supercluedo
«These Fragments I Have Shored against My Ruins»
A Conversation with Antonio Tarsis
Stand-in Stones and the Disjunctive Junction
Mind the Gap
Analog Dialogue
TELECAB 200’0: Becoming Spolia Instead of Trash
A Conversation with Christine Finn
The Only Ones of Their Kind – On Chiles Commercial Snails
White Elephants
The Gotthard Road Tunnel: Transfiguring Earth and Legacy
Drushba – Postfuel Landscape