BLOOD

Turf House Erotica: Soft Darkness and Radiating Body Heat (Honoring Our Icelandic Ancestors)

I am a farmer. An Icelandic male farmer. (It is sometime in the Olden Times.) I live in a traditional Icelandic turf house.

A drawing of a boot, a series of mechanical objects, and scratchy lines. The edges of the paper are visible.

The future toddlers of my friends clamber over me and affectionately sprinkle grass onto my shoulders

I sit here- writing this while the sound checks for a festival in Victoria Park sound out. It is like 1, 2, 3- 3 ch’ ch’. I sit here writing this while my childhood best friend is preparing to play at this festival- I will be able to hear him from my window.

A soft, blurry, circular, geometric pattern of blue and white

Initiation.

This is the story of my arrival to Berlin.

1. The setting. (Separation) t is spring 2019, and I have just moved to Berlin. I am filled with excitement and curiosity to rediscover the city I was born in, but that I haven’t lived in since I was a toddler. I am still able to romanticise the U-bahn and the fact that I sleep in a bare room on a shitty mattress. It suits the coming of age narrative I created in my head. The 30 days I spent here so far have been full of encounters and activities, as if I made it my goal to explore each facet of the city as fast as possible.

A bird's eye view of where the river Tietê, São Paulo used to be, and is now is dried and filled with cars, appearing to have been abandoned in the middle of a traffic jam. Green trees and bushes grow above many car tops, between concrete walls.

I try to remember and all I can taste is earth.

I am writing this days after the Ahr river flooded in the west of Germany, killing 184 people.* The pictures, a friend says, look photoshopped, as they show me how to move the cursor from right to left, displaying the before and after scenes. All I can think is ‘less green.’ The same friend tells me of the flooding of the Elbe river that happened in 2002, and that it was Eurocentrically named “the flood of the century” (Jahrhundert Flut). After all, most floods of this century have not covered European soil. The broken banks are presented as a governmental failure to predict, re-inforce, and secure. Control measures failed and Germany’s immunity to climate disaster has been torn a little, despite the appearance of success. The holy see it as a message from God, the capitalists call it a time for harder intervention and more capable management, and time travellers say, as with every so-called year, this is the year of the bog.

SOMABOG

Events 16.-19.09.2021
Exhibition 16.-26.09.2021
at Kunstpunkt, Schlegelstraße 6, 10115 Berlin
As part of Berlin Art Week.

An image of six different amoebas, in pink, green, green-yellow, brown, red, and purple. They are arranged on a solid middle blue background.

Things Change When They Are Wet

You can be hammering nails into a wall without a care in the world, thinking how nice this Mona Lisa print is going to look just here above the sofa, how it’s going to catch the light very nicely indeed and – SNAP!

A collage depicting a body tainted in violet color, with two legs, one arm, blond curls and a trunk that morphs into small planets, floating on the background of a piece of wood in a bright starlit sky.

KUNDALINI YOGA DEMYSTIFIED

Bhajan’s sexual and emotional abuse does not stand alone, but is linked to a much larger system of abuse of power. And this system pervaded all areas of his personality, including his teachings.

YEAR OF THE BOG

This year, we feel the need to crawl deep into the damp earth. At a time when we cannot touch each other, are buried behind our screens, and distanced from the visceral and the elemental, COVEN BERLIN declares the YEAR OF THE BOG.

An image of a social distancing messaging sticker in the Berlin subway. The decal features 3 corgis in outline, indicating the appropriate distance.

Touch As In

During a time that transmuted touch into a mere theoretical, that differentially and differently affected the people around me, I felt an impulse to gather together—an attempt at a grand, unified theory of the sensory, particularly of touch.

An image of a handmade rug depicting a NYPD cop car on fire with red and yellow flames. The rug is depicted on a graffitied stone wall.

Commodifying Oppression: The Co-option of Resistance Aesthetic

There has become a market, driven by social media aesthetics, for the radical slogan, a marketing for leftist politics, and therefore, a market for continued oppression. Though graphics elevate and increase the share-ability of messaging, this practice has translated into consumer goods with trendy, relevant, and co-optive messaging.