We could see it as layers – too.

True, that we are lying here, dropped on the buffer zones in our camouflage cages, but on the blurred lines of the sun, a row of scorched men is marching now and their loins are wrapped in damped white towels. They don’t know anything about us, sow-mothers, whom are whispering words of love to terrorists whose strength has weaken. They will never know anything about how we unraveled the buttons of our uniform’s shirt.

Hereby we are declaring on the formal establishment of the gleichzeitig movement and the holy manifesto of the hole in the script. Now wear your wolf masks and hold tight. On blue and red dance floors, without recognising each other, we will be pushing and pulling each other’s shoulder-belts as if we were dancing. Trapped on a rock, hugged in a tango, lifetime and another, tamed to coherency, tamed to put a point in the end of a sentence, to share one room.


Curator: Erhard Witzel, Artists: Monika Grabuschnigg, Marco Wagner, Opening: 2.2.2017

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