GLEAN - Issue 5 (ENG edition)

Futurefarmers, Berlinde De Bruyckere, City Report Sofia, McKenzie Wark, Koyo Kouoh, Bas Smets, Aglaia Konrad, Hugo Roelandt, Candice Breitz, Otobong Nkanga, Sharjah Biennial, Charlie Porter, Subversive Film, 019, Emmanuel Van der Auwera.

Het nieuwe winternummer van GLEAN is er. We gaan in gesprek met Sharon Van Overmeiren, Mostafa Saifi Rahmouni, Willem Oorebeek en Paule Josephe; staan stil bij de indrukwekkende carrière van Luc Deleu, de 'radicaalste urbanistische denker die België ooit heeft voortgebracht'; tippen expo's van Luc Tuymans in Beijing en Pieter Vermeersch in New York; duiken in het archief van Pieter Van Bogaert en een merkwaardige fotoboek van de Nederlandse filmmaker en fotograaf Johan van der Keuken; bezoeken de tentoonstelling 'The Last Place They Thought Of' in Kunsthal Mechelen; en veel meer...

Apparatus 22, Dak’Art, Tarek Atoui, Sirah Foighel Brutmann & Eitan Efrat, Yoko Ono, Pei-Hsuan Wang, Anna Zemánková, Sarah Smolders, Miranda July, Britta Marakatt-Labba, Ignacio Barrios

De vijde Nederlandstalige GLEAN editie.

Bijdrages over Chantal Akerman, Biënnale van Venetië, Eline de Clercq, Samah Hijawi, Laure Prouvost, Anastasia Bay, Wim Delvoye, Riar Rizaldi, Haegue Yang, Nil Yalter, Anna Maria Mariolino.

Guest Editor: Collectif Picha, Lumbumbashi Biennale, City Report Athens, Andrei Molodkin, Maryam Najd, Andrien Lucca, Valérie Mannaerts, Kendell Geers, Gabi Ngcobo, Maja Daniels, Zhang Yunyao, Wim Delvoye, Larissa Sansour, Dome Wood

Foundlings, a video film, was shot near Wexford, in the south east of Ireland where she grew up. This visual poem without a particular narrative and full of autobiographical elements is set at a very slowed down pace. Floating images and heavy voices are central to the associative strategy that is at work here. The images allow one to listen to a hypnotic voice, while at the same time allowing the eyes to wander... to daydream... to travel over drawn out time. The images are country images, images of repetitive calm, the kind of calm one finds between awake and asleep. The speed of the sea sets the pace, regular yet irregular. The images are inhabited by people who cannot speak. Who are busy doing nothing, except passing time. Silent brothers and sisters of the sea.

The soundsculpture Unsaid, a joint work by Orla Barry and Portuguese artist Rui Chafes (1964), is very opposite to the film. The film is full of open spaces and bright colours. The sculpture is black, closed and claustrophobic and on top of that it is housed in a narrow tower five meters tall. The visitor has to take place on a rather unconventional chair and put his head in a closed off sphere, surrounding himself by darkness and leaving him with his own heartbeat. A voice addresses the visitor directly on highly intimate terms. The seating is hard and uncomfortable. One has to be strong to experience this piece that is a perpetual struggle between body and mind.

At the occassion of Barry’s show argos editions published Foundlings, a combined artist book and catalogue that can be ordered through argos. The book includes a DVD.

Orla Barry (1969) is an artist who centres her practice on language, written and spoken. Her work is strongly poetic and lyrical, crossing a wide variety of media. Barry was born in Ireland, and the rhythm of her phraseology, the pictorial and narrative vernacular on which she draws, somehow evokes her homeland’s topography, climate and literary heritage. At argos the artist presented two new works.

BRAIDS is a 130 pages-long publication that features both visual and written works of 20 young creatives. The desire of BRAIDS is to expand the idea of queerness beyond the borders of identity. The journal exists to host bodies that deny framing and dare to expose the vulnerability of their difference. The publication is thus a woven story of the contemporary globalised queer, insecure but daring, honey-glazed yet continuously aching. 

This issue of Pages assumes seep as a post archival mode: in the Merriam-Webster dictionary the verb 'seep' is translated as follows: to flow or pass slowly through fine pores or small openings, to enter or penetrate slowly, to become diffused or spread.

The biology or politics of seeping is like that of raw petroleum oozing at natural oil seeps. Unlike refined oil which has sponsored modernization and its aligned archives, crude oil pours beyond historical purpose and defies structural elevations. It instead disfigures the ground through which it dubiously spreads.

Seeping is a posthumous affair. It is the gradual leaking of a long withdrawn interior. Like the bleeding of a punctured corpse, when the pumping of the heart has stopped, when the body is lifeless and apathetic to any 'hail', yet continuing to bleed. Seep as archive is an eternally post-apocalyptic expansion, retraction, deviation, subtraction, or simply the arrival of (non-)things.

With contributions by:

- Mariam Motamedi Fraser / Geo-Archive
- Richard Goldstein / Dennis Oppenheim's Dilemma: Should he Sell Art to the Shah?
- Babak Afrassiabi, Nasrin Tabatabai / Contemporary Hole / Unfilmable 
/ Seep
- Saleh Najafi / Wounds of Archive¹
- Mark von Schlegell / The Artist Abstract #6
- Nima Parzham / The underground
- Adam Kleinman / Vanished Theories
- Suzanne Treister / Algorithm
- Alexi Kukuljevic / The Dissolute Subject
- Matts Leiderstam / Andy Warhol, Suicide (Purple Jumping Man), 1963
- Eugene Thacker / Black Infinity; or, Oil Discovers Humans
- Vivian Ziherl, Natasha Ginwala / Infrastructural Suspensions: Global Spanning, Atmospheric Seepage and Measures of the Undecidable