tsnoK

Recent contributions in this category

• The hypermediate strategy of Sayuri Michima

  The story of Parrhasius and Zeuxis written by Pliny the Elder in the first century AD expresses the most universal attitude towards art among the ancient Greeks and Romans. It’s about a painter called Zeuxis and his contemporary Parrhasius, who stage a contest to determine the greater artist. When Zeuxis unveils his painting of grapes, they appear so real birds fly down to peck at them. But when Zeuxis asks Parrhasius to pull aside the curtain from his painting, the curtain itself turns out to be a painted illusion. Parrhasius wins, and Zeuxis admits that although he has deceived the birds, Parrhasius has deceived him.

• Mladen Stilinovic, An artist who cannot speak English is no artist, 1992

  Not only does the banner claim that “an artist who cannot speak is no artist”, thereby pointing at the linguistic paradigm of contemporary discourse of discourse critique – a discursive tendency which tends to promote ’interesting’, discussion-based art work (or – God forbid – conversation pieces), it also claims that the artist should speak a certain language.

• SHAMAN FREUD: PASCAL LIEVRE’S TOTEM UND TABU

  In his 2010 ‘Bad Romance’ exhibition, Pascal Lievre began using glitter on his paintings.

• Spam chronique for tsnoK, “Vote”

  You have been selected for a cash prize: Fill the
  below:

• Plasma

  Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.

• Bacon and the collapse of the borderline between the joke and the sublime

  by Staffan Boije Af Gennäs

  Prague, 1990. It is the summer after the Berlin wall came down. I’m having breakfast at Hotel Jalta – a communist style luxurious establishment. Eggs, bacon, jam and toast. I’m sitting on the terrace facing Václavské námesti, the city’s main parade

• Spam chronique for tsnoK, ”pill”

  BY NATHALIE FOUGERAS, June 2010 So, we built for you and your loved ones. We built a service for video and written messages. We built you a place where you can leave instructions on how to deactivate your social life. If you died tomorrow. Open a account today, because you care about your loved ones, […]

• Cykel / Bicycle

  BY LINA PERSSON

  The world shrunk and I could visit my friend in Vänge whenever I wanted to. Places interconnect in new ways. There was a straight path through the forest between Halla and Viklau which was a kilometer shorter than the long route by car. With my bicycle I can easily stop, take a side route and see where the grown-over path leads. Daily commuting is repeated with variations.

• Art School Odyssey

  BY EVA BJÖRKSTRAND

• A short statement on the predicament of experimental art

  By: Olav Westphalen

  The sophistication it takes to spot the difference between the real thing and the postcard version is rare among contemporary audiences. But a lack of attention needn’t be bad. Some things develop better in the shade.