Newton's Äpfel II — Adler Hund Stier Fuchs Fisch
'eagle dog taurus fox fish' — installation + performance + intervention
the nucleus of this installation are approx. 6'000 envelopes
that I have collected from 2003 to date, as well as objects and items that I have used in performances over the last few years. Among them are tree trunks sewn into terry cloth, objects and quotidian objects, natural materials such as branches and about 5 kg of apples, a birdhouse, stones, my bicycle, A4 paper to write on, as well as rubber and fishing boots, hiking boots and loafers, wooden beams from the construction site of the Prime Tower.
In K3, I choose the room for the installation, which has a high, accessible platform built into it. On the day of the exhibition opening, I lay out the material on the floor and hang up some objects, including my bicycle, which I always use to ride to K3. During the opening hours of the two-week exhibition, I change the installation by dismantling and reassembling it until the very end. The installation is always unstable, the 'accidents' - i.e. objects of the installation falling down during the rearrangement - are just as essential to its changes as when I deliberately move objects. For the objects hang in the air, on a partially interconnected string system of reep cords, hemp and parcel cords. Stacks of envelopes, even shoes, they balance on wooden beams that thus become stilts.
The visitors stand in front of this platform; the view of the installation from below exposes each individual object. A small staircase leads into the middle of the installation, here one can directly feel the lability and instability of the objects: if a hanging object or a piled-up structure is touched, it can trigger a chain reaction and cause other objects to fall.
proposal for the installation ... installation script
the performance at the finissage is the final dismantling of the installation.
During two weeks I built the installation. Its dismantling or removal is the performance.
The spectators gather in front of the small stage platform in the K3 project space. For the first part, I ask them to go three floors down to the dark square of the Maag site, which is illuminated by artificial light. Four fifths of the 6,000 envelopes addressed to me, which I have collected over 7 years, I throw individually and in small bundles out of the window on the 3rd floor. With each throw I call out the names of the Zodiac Signs and their constellation in the October sky: CASSIOPEIA, DOLPHIN, EAGLE, ANDORMEDA, CRANE, LYRE, SNAKE, SAGITTARIUS, SWAN, RAM, NORTHERN CROWN ... Afterwards I ask the audience to come back into the exhibition space.
As soon as everyone is there, I move onto the platform, moving between the hanging objects and unstable piled-up structures. Their interstices choreograph the movement, where I gently touch and touch what is hung and piled up there. Things sway slightly at first, showing their instability. As time goes by, I twist and turn more sweepingly between the objects - tree stumps, stones and other objects fall to the floor with a loud bang. I pull at the hanging objects, which are connected by strings. Like on a ship caught in a storm, everything starts to tumble and sway. The exhibition space becomes a riot. I take each object of the installation in my hand and ask the audience what it is. Whoever guesses the right name is passed the object. Sometimes I say yes to the suggested words, sometimes I vehemently contradict them. For example, a spectator calls a tree trunk covered with yellow terry cloth and a fur-like piece of synthetic material a SHEEP, while I say DOG. When the room is empty, I step down from the platform and ask those present to now attach all objects to my body.
Loaded and hung with many objects, I descend in procession through the narrow stairwell of the industrial building to the ground floor with the audience carrying the remaining paraphernalia. A stack of envelopes is thrown down by an audience member, they flutter buzzing through the dimly lit stairwell. The floor and steps are now littered with white envelopes.
On the outer courtyard, the envelopes I threw out of the window in the first part glow on the night floor - the starry sky has fallen to the ground. Gingerly I put my footsteps between the envelopes, stop and sing "Am Himmel staht es Sternli z'Nacht", a hit song by Artur Beul from the 1940s, which was sung by the Schmid siblings at the time.