these two pictures standing next to each other in my phone gallery...... woah

full pics:

1) krištof kintera - all my bad thoughts

2) jeremy irons in dead ringers (1988) dir. david cronenberg

kristof kintera - all my bad thoughts

Kristof Kintera - all my bad thoughts

Source: banana_satanika

Top, Yoko Ono, Blood Objects from Family Album, pigment on key, edition unknown, UBU Gallery NYC, 1995. Via. More. Bottom, Kristof Kintera, All My Bad Thoughts, 2009, polyurethane, 38 × 260 × 166 cm. Via.

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They call us now, before they drop the bombs. The phone rings and someone who knows my first name calls and says in perfect Arabic “This is David.” And in my stupor of sonic booms and glass-shattering symphonies still smashing around in my head I think, Do I know any Davids in Gaza? They call us now to say Run. You have 58 seconds from the end of this message. Your house is next. They think of it as some kind of war-time courtesy. It doesn’t matter that there is nowhere to run to. It means nothing that the borders are closed and your papers are worthless and mark you only for a life sentence in this prison by the sea and the alleyways are narrow and there are more human lives packed one against the other more than any other place on earth Just run. We aren’t trying to kill you. It doesn’t matter that you can’t call us back to tell us the people we claim to want aren’t in your house that there’s no one here except you and your children who were cheering for Argentina sharing the last loaf of bread for this week counting candles left in case the power goes out. It doesn’t matter that you have children. You live in the wrong place and now is your chance to run to nowhere. It doesn’t matter that 58 seconds isn’t long enough to find your wedding album or your son’s favorite blanket or your daughter’s almost completed college application or your shoes or to gather everyone in the house. It doesn’t matter what you had planned. It doesn’t matter who you are. Prove you’re human. Prove you stand on two legs. Run.

Lena Khalaf Tuffaha, Running Orders, from Water & Salt, 2017. Via. Via.

Kristof Kintera - all my bad thoughts

Kristof Kintera

Kristof Kintera

Nervous Trees, 2013 Electromechanical sculpture

Krištof Kintera - Weightlessness (detail), 2012

kristof kintera

Kristof Kintera

- Kristof Kintera

Revolution, Kristof Kintera, 2005, HAM: Sculpture

Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, The Jorie Marshall Waterman '96 and Gwendolyn Dunaway Waterman '92 Fund Size: 121.92 x 91.44 x 60.96 cm (48 x 36 x 24 in.) Medium: Mixed media (sculpture with sound)

https://www.harvardartmuseums.org/collections/object/312567

on the post-human palimpsest of urban memory [Kristof Kintera - Postnaturalia // headless Buddha discovered in a construction site in Nanan district, Chongqing] https://www.instagram.com/p/CI7Blzvgx92/?igshid=passr3b8mafl

End of Fun Exhibit Review

I went to the Ikon Gallery, Birmingham on Tuesday the 3rd of November to see the exhibition ‘The End of Fun!’ by Kristof Kintera and a small supplement of work from the Ikon curator Melanie Pocock. The animal forms made out of wires, a metal structure and A-crystal are called ‘Evolution Revision (2015)’. They are supposed to represent the nervous system caught in a state of panic, which links strongly to Bio Art as the sculptures bridge art and science together. Kintera also wanted the forms to represent our struggles with contemporary life. When humans are stressed they produce adrenaline and hard wired animal instincts kick in of fight or flight or freeze. To me that looks like what the forms are doing. My favourite sculpture is the cat like form arching it’s back and raising it’s tail territorially. 

The model of the little boy with his face to the wall I found particularly eerie as at first glance I thought it was an actual child. The piece is called ‘Revolution 2005′. The child figure repeatedly bangs it’s head against the wall. Kintera made the sculpture about frustration with wanting to change the world but not being able to. I can remember from my childhood and from having a much younger brother how children get so angry at why the world cannot be fair like the way their classrooms are made fair. I can remember my little brother Peter asking me in his bath when he was around four or five “Is the world fair?” and me having to tell him that sadly, no, it’s not.