Milan-based artist Luca Francesconiwill show solo presentation, Snake, Rice, Food Outlets at London’sJupiter Woods, opening March 11 and running till the end of the month.
The press release is long and it is a mix of narrative and think-piece styles. It talks about big rice sacks at the bottom of supermarket or shop shelves, with snakes, possibly, sitting beneath them waiting while the bags wait for someone to buy them: “They will end up in set meals, or waiting forever in an ‘all-you-can-eat’.”
Francesconi has worked with the idea of the “nightmare of carbohydrates” before in relation to a never-ending food chain (like an “uninterrupted snake”) (see the artist’s Tumblr archive), which he almost draws as being something stuffed, like a colon full of corn.
Snake, Rice, Food Outlets is a part of the current Jupiter Woods programme that explores ideas around care, cultivation and sustainability.
Radical Reading is presenting an account of their practice called ‘Troubleshooting (remainders, ditches, trials)’ at London’s Jupiter Woods on February 19.
Founded in 2014 by Evangelia Ledaki and Petros Moris, the Athens-based curatorial collective will summarise retrieved “sensorial and archival” materials in a performance: “a staging of an accumulated stack of hidden processes, pending projects, messy intentions”.
The joint exploration will also culminate in a ‘peer mentoring’ events programme in February, developed in conversation with Radical Reading , Auto Italia and FormContent.
‘A Night With Jupiter Woods’ is at Paris’ Shanaynay, as a part of their A Night With series running throughout the month, on February 5.
“Eighteen months at sea, we are now beginning to trace the contours of what constitutes this ambiguous being, Jupiter Woods”, sighs the accompanying letter for the upcoming event, sent to Shanaynay.
Jupiter Woods will “bring forth actants” Sanna Helena Berger, Eloïse Bonneviot, Karen Kramer, Jaakko Pallasvuo and Sam Smith –each of whom have worked closely in the past year with the South East London project space –by showing films by the artists, before discussing how they will continue to exist as this “ambiguous being”.
“What are the conditions in which we operate?” ask Jupiter Woods co-founders Carolina Ongaro and Hanna Laura Kaljo in their letter. It seems a timely conversation to be having in relation to preservation, integrity, risk and “unlearning” within the presentation and curatorial sides of the art world.
See the FB Event page for more details and to read the letter in full.**
The first to contribute to a series of talks held as part of Eloïse Bonneviot and Anne de Boer‘s ongoing The Mycological Twistproject, the Warsaw-based artist will present her research on several moments in history “where malnutrition was used as a method to suppress a population”, specifically tied to the ongoing assault on Syrian civilians through famine.
Exploring malnutrition as a weapon, Brzuzan’s dinner titled ‘Hunger is/isn’t an object’ draws on The Mycological Twist talk series’ exploration into “different aspects of mycelium, fungal growth and its ramified logics”. Its introduction draws parallels between a “beautifully silky [poisonous] mushroom” called the Death Cap (Amanita phalloides) with a similar-looking and edible Mediterranean counterpart and contemporary issues of political geographies and migration.
Artist Sam Smith joins Jupiter Woods‘ new series of conversational presentations with ‘In other words’ on November 29.
The lunchtime weekend event series, which launched on November 14 and runs until December 13, takes a closer look at “what has been and where we are headed” through various research and presentations with artists to talk about their processes.
The presentation by Smith comes as the fifth event in the ‘In other words’, and follows his feature in Jupiter Woods’ ‘this place is really nowhere’ with the film ‘Slow Fragmentation’ (2015).
Holly White will be joining Jupiter Woods‘ for a new series of artists talks, in other words, on November 14.
The lunchtime conversation series runs into December and is curated by the South Bermondsey art space, which aims to invert the tropes of the studio visit, artists are asked to elaborate on their practices in relation to the gallery. Whether that is artists who have previously exhibited at Jupiter Woods or those, like White, whose relationship is speculative and potential.
The Lond0n-based artist recently launched her “spa ebook” on Etsy and generally explores identity, consumption and a range of aesthetics online in her practice. She will be showing a film alongside the conversation.
In one corner a yoga mat, rolled, leans against the wall paintings on the interior of Jupiter Woods. Atop the mat is a ceramic bust, in the style of Jaakko Pallasvuo’s objects; rough and readily crafted. Another sits nearby looking toward the center of the room. The whole Songs exhibition –opening July 24 – is inward-looking; a contained record of days spent in the space doing yoga and painting on the walls. Rendering thoughts over the period of a month in a south London room is a resolutely stationary task of the imagination.
Jaakko Pallasvuo, Song (2015) @ Jupiter Woods. Exhibition view. Courtesy the artist.
There are a handful of paintings on canvas hung on the walls in conversation with the mural. The simplicity of means and method lets the meandering imagery do its thing without anxious affect. Salamis sit in the top left corner of several walls like a letterhead, a bow-tied mouse or hedgehog muses on a painting hung near the floor and the EU circle of stars emblem is contemplated by a couple of wolves. Some rooms, some houses, some meals – an ice-cream sundae and bangers and mash – all painted in simple brush strokes at standing or sitting height around the wall like a notepad-by-the-phone frieze. Proportion and perspective don’t figure.
On one wall a figure lays painting absentmindedly with one hand and texting on a phone with the other. In a comic-style recalling other Pallasvuo drawings, text bubbles are painted onto the nearby wall like a zoom-in view of the phone screen. It is a personal lexicon of imagery that withholds any narrative gifts. A clear criteria isn’t apparent so let’s call it a visual notation. This free-form sketching activity is the pleasure, or the pressure, of an in-gallery-artist residency. Pallasvuo lives upstairs, works in the gallery and does yoga somewhere there too perhaps; all of this living, working, making, human-being is happening under the one roof. The artist residency is an all-consuming role, like the task of self-improvement, like the task of trying to find some peace.
The palette is restricted enough to minimise the amount of decision-making necessary, which is a great stress-relief strategy. The brush marks are x-ray white on midnight blue walls remaining from the previous exhibition at the gallery. ‘Midnight blue’ is a literary flourish I’m allowing myself in the context of a Frank O’Hara poem in the room sheet and the Picasso stylistic inflections that lean Pallasvuo’s show toward the abundance that buoyed those two mid-century practices. In the corner, not discarded but hardly posing, rests a packaging box from Comme Des Garçons 2 Man Eau de Toilette which is marketed to “A worker, a man who loves his work…”; a fitting epithet to accompany a bunch of dying flowers, a charismatic and somehow still upright tribute.
Jaakko Pallasvuo, Song (2015) @ Jupiter Woods. Exhibition view. Courtesy the artist.
“Craft. No outsourcing”, says one of the few pieces of writing on the walls near a Picasso-like woman’s face. Unlike the classism of her profile, the poet O’Hara’s appearance in the exhibition is more at the fraught end of the modernist spectrum: on the room sheet in the form of his 1960 poem ‘Song’ in which he’s stuck in a taxicab, “which is typical / and not just of modern life”, he writes. “How I hate disease, it’s like worrying / that comes true”. Warding off the ills, and particularly the mental ills, the anxiety, the worriers disease, with various methods including yoga is also typical of modern life. At the time of writing I am trying to convince my partner we should rent a wooden hut with an outdoor bath in Topanga instead of a downtown apartment. The mood of self-reflective, home-based mind/body activities is conspicuously appealing to the freelancer. We know it’s an obvious fix, as compromised as any other and as culturally appropriative as Picasso, but it’s a good way to work(out).
You can make an endless tour of the meditative associative wash of imagery that continues around all four walls of the gallery. In the room sheet Pallasvuo asks, “Is this show ‘about’ something?” and then mentions he is listening to Wilco like it’s 2007. In one of the paintings on canvas someone does a yoga move while two men watch from a nearby doorway, near some fruit. Seductive is the pace and time-spent is the atmosphere.**
Jupiter Woods invites artist Karen Kramer to host a presentation titled Epona’s Wall over ten days at their London space, running June 18 to 28.
The presentation, the press release writes, is both “depository and reliquary, memorial and inventory”, developed under the ‘remarks upon method’ curatorial project by Hanna Laura Kaljo. Backed by an installation of artifacts—”offerings from the river to the racehorse”—Kramer explores temporality “as a trauma of varying scales” including human, geological, and archeological, and the act of collecting and archiving as a means of mourning.
A ‘reading room’ will accompany Kramer’s presentation as an adjacent display of research materials and will include guest contributors, and two public reading group events will take place—on Sunday, June 21 and Sunday, June 28—to guide a collective discussion of key materials within artists’ research. An online element of the ten-day presentation will launch concurrently at www.eponaswell.com.
The exhibition will run concurrently with Max Stocklosa’s permanent installation, ‘More World Material: Coyote’, seeking to reveal the “layers of disproportionality and invisibility that are made more complex through the use of technology”. In specific, the show concentrates on the use of drones and overhead surveillance: the hidden labour of fragmented technological production, as well as their ethical repercussions.
“You are in this three-dimensional room”, says the exhibition sheet of Viktor Timofeev’s Proxyah v2 running at London’s Jupiter Woods from January 9 to February 8. It’s the first line of some rather complicated instructions outlining how its user should navigate the unstable CGI setting of the ‘Proxyah v2’ (2015) video game, screening on the left of a two-channel installation in the far-left corner of the Bermondsey space. The blue darkened room gives off the aura of being underwater, the staircase to the right and the sheet of fabric blocking the back kitchen effects an eerie sense of the parasitic. It’s as though this highly complex contraption shouldn’t be there, but it is and it’s sucking the life out of a building that’s falling away around it.
Viktor Timofeev, Proxyah v2 (2015) @ Jupiter Woods. Exhibition view. Courtesy the artist.
The real infrastructure is on the screen, except that it’s a construction that’s equally as precarious. The sense of groundlessness is literal as the computer-generated water-level rises with every step inside the screen, those steps being complicated by the fact they’re being led by a joystick, shaped like an egg and nestled in a square of astroturf. It’s disorienting in the fact that the compass of the onscreen HUD (ie: heads-up display) changes depending on its colour and the alignment of the room. The ‘room’ itself is a thing made of animated walls, floor, a ceiling, that shift and change within a uniquely terraformed landscape generated by the user’s own movements – those movements being determined by the ever-changing space and the focus of its user. The user’s energy expenditure is constantly being counted.
I’m not going to try to explain the rules of ‘Proxyah v2’, but I also don’t think they’re exactly the point. Coded by computer science course drop-out Timofeev and inspired in part by his experience of an insurmountable set of directions determining the movements of Yvonne Rainer’s ‘Diagonal’ (1963), performed at Raven Row last year, I will say that there’s a powerful sense of helplessness that endures. As one tries to navigate their way through the codes, symbols and invisible systems of Proxyah, the multiple speakers scattered across the room and engulfing its user detect and announce your every move with a blast. A second screen shows an unsettlingly smooth (and silent) perspective of an autonomous object as it hovers above an ocean of stock sea water taken from the Unity game engine on which ‘Proxyah v2’ was built.
As a user, you’re likely to have combat flight on the mind, as one of two snakes of the aerial map – resembling a regular default phone setting Snake game – on the interactive screen is called “drone”, as opposed to the randomly moving “rogue”. The drone’s path is predetermined and the user’s ability to control this omniscient viewpoint is non-existent as it scans a sea engulfing the same white orbs of energy integral to the gameplay. The interactive screen of Proxyah feels like chaos in contrast to this vision of peace that sways lightly beside it, except it’s not you, the user, that controls it. **
Jupiter Woods is bringing in artist Viktor Timofeev for a solo show titled Proxyah, running at the London art space from January 9 to February 8.
The artist has produced across disciplines over the years, releasing cassettes and vinyl + zine combos like his Palace Of Peace and Reconciliation (2012, 2014), studies in Dantean madness like his self-published graphic book ‘Topophobia‘, a series of contributions for publications and projects like The Limited Collection and B-Pigs Berlin, and, of course, a sprawling list of exhibitions spread across the last five years.
Rome’s The Gallery Apart brings its latest group exhibition, titled biotic/abiotic and running to their space from November 26 to January 24.
The show comes out of the Jupiter Woods curatorial platform and takes the idea of interconnectivity directly into its design, curated by Jupiter Woods’ Hanna Laura Kaljo and Lucy Lopez and in collaboration with The Gallery Apart and the Nomas Foundation.
Featuring eight different artists and artist collaborations – including Emily Jones, Chiara Camoni, Jacopo Miliani and V4ULT‘s Anna Mikkola among others – biotic / abiotic explores the points of connection (and dissolution) between the natural and the cultural.
Artist Emily Jones is bringing her latest solo exhibition, First Water to Tripoli, to London’s Jupiter Woods, where it will run from November 23 to November 30.
In lieu of a press release or exhibition descriptor, Jones has provided the following text:
will-to-possess will-to-live right to silence man-made manomaya man-unmade world as lover, world as self God of the Eastern Sea God of the Southern Sea God of the Western Sea God of the Northern Sea biodiversity is us
On the Facebook exhibition page, she continues to post screenshots of existential phrases, things like ‘million-year timescale’ and ‘this term almost means existing within the cells’. No concrete information is given as to the nature of the show, but judging from Jones’s previous work, we should expect more of the same literary-meets-aesthetic hashtag philosophy that defines her oeuvre.
“The ceiling’s fallen down here”, says Emma Siemens-Adolphe while clearing up a small pile of fallen debris at the corner of the floor at Jupiter Woods’Genuine Articles. I’m warned it’s not part of the exhibition on entry but, regardless of it being an incidental, I think it kind of is. As one of the best of many good things orbiting the opulent centre of Frieze London 2014 in mid-October, it’s an indication of the glaring economic inequalities between spaces that sometimes, but not always, become a fairly accurate gauge of how good a gallery’s going to be. The Barnie Page-curated show is in the two-storey space in a largely industrial suburb of South Bermondsey and shows reproductions of other works, including a bin full of crushed cans, cheap souvenirs and an A4 print of a meteor. They’re copies of copies that interrogate ideas of authorship and appropriation through co-authored and appropriated objects. One gets the sense that if it weren’t for the cash poor context of its organisers – not mentioning that as the root of DIY digital culture – it’s an idea that would have never existed.
That might be a bit of an obvious observation: Life presents a thing, the artist reflects in kind. But in a week that thrusts both the struggling and the stupidly wealthy into a shared timezone, it’s hopeful at best, interesting at least, to see what can come of the resulting interactions. There’s the boutique branding display of ‘urban’ street wear at Dean Blunt’s New Paintings, where a life lived in the rapidly gentrifying area of Hackney extends to the body commodified; stretched denim becomes the canvas for an art object for sale at Space gallery. Up near the heart of the CBD in Mayfair, Project Native Informant presents the off-site edition of Shanzhai Biennial‘s Frieze ‘Live’ installation, Shanzhai Biennial No. 3: 100 Hamilton Terrace. It’s a less lurid display of luxury real estate advertising with a house-shaped key floating above a mirror in its own vitrine, as well as glass doors and a wall-length image reproduction of the pool one stands to inherit for an easy £32,000,000.
Shanzhai Biennial No. 3: 100 Hamilton Terrace (2014) @ Project Native Informant. Install view. Courtesy the gallery.
The collective of artists and collaborators involved in the final product literally inhabit the Frieze-emulating branding and flipped Deutsche Bank logos decorating images of bodies presenting a lifestyle in a light box. Except these bodies reveal more about the exploitative foundations of said lifestyle by drawing parallels between power centres and systems, across time and place, suspended in poolside poses taken from China’s Rent Collection Courtyard. That’s the garden of life-sized Socialist Realist sculptures depicting feudal oppression (and eventual revolt) inside the estate once owned by a pre-Revolution property owner in Sichuan Province. A call for the oppressed to “unite to settle the blood debts with the landlords!” is concealed in the Chinese characters in a corner.
Property. Space. Time. Money. They’re concepts that are thrown into sharp relief and problematised inside and outside the official Frieze week walls as distinctions begin to blur. The video work of Lizzie Fitch and Ryan Trecartin‘s Priority Innfield installations at Zabludowicz Collection takes a starkly, almost absurdly, more menacing turn in its dark labyrinth of diamond fencing, blue tiles and park benches littered with iconic red kegger cups and screening the suburban self-destruction of Trecartin’s Ohio teens in ‘Junior War’. There’s a cover of Radiohead’s ‘Creep’ in a big green room featuring the rolling credits from old video works, while Rachel Lord‘s ‘Basic Jenny’ CGI avatar bounces on a bed. Said artist later materialises IRL at a night of performance called Burning Head Collage, curated by Total Freedom,to play Judas as part of Jesus Christ Superstar‘s ‘Blood Money/ Damned for all Time’ score, with Jesse Darling and Leslie Kulesh filling the roles of the High Priests who suggest: “think of the things you could do with that money/ choose any charity/ give to the poor”.
Rachel Lord, Jesse Darling & Leslie Kulesh at Burning Head Collage @ Zabludowicz Collection (2014). Courtesy the artists.
Allegedly Lord does just that with her fee from an institution funded by a fortune built on SOLTAM Systems. But that’s not before flinging an iPhone at Darling mid-performance, citing microphone interference as the motive in an email: “As an indigo, I am highly sensitive to electro-magnetic radiation”. I don’t see the event myself but hear about it repeatedly, procuring this slightly abstract explanation from Lord herself:
“The physical repulsion/separation I felt from the people watching because of their phones allowed me to channel the torment of a 1970s Bible-era Judas in a very real way. My intention was to demonstrate how peoples’ perceptions of a politically charged environment create a politically charged environment. The by-product was that in my attempt to break the 4th wall, I encountered the 5th.”
I’m just wondering, ‘if Rachel Lord is the traitor, and Darling and Kulesh her conspirators, then who’s Jesus?’ I don’t think anyone is .
“If love hurts and work makes you suffer, I think we should reconsider”, says the voiceover ofMaja Cule‘s ‘Do What You Love’ (2014) video for her Facing the Same Direction exhibition at Arcadia Missa. Launched along with an indiegogo campaign aiming to raise $80,000 so its subject – writer and illustrator Anna Kachiyan – could “pursue independent interests in projects”, the installation, with its wall-print of a deskchair and video projection of ‘DWYL’, brings the office into the art space and wonders whether there’s a difference. The POLYMYTH x Miss Information exhibition at Auto Italia doesn’t even question the apparent oxymoron of the term “creative practitioner” by inviting working designers, including Metahaven, Pablo Jones Soler, April Greiman and Pinar&Viola, to take over the art gallery space. The shift in context shifts the works’ resonance, whether it’s the impressive clarity of scale in the Metahaven x Holly Herndon music video collaboration, ‘Home‘ – viewed through a large LED screen rather than YouTube – or Jones’ CGI product design painstakingly rematerialised as physical object.
“This is your future”, announces the Auto Italia press release, while Serpentine galleries’ intensive two-day Extinction Marathon questions whether that future is a desirable one. Inspired by the announcement that half of the world’s wildlife was lost to human ‘progress’ in the past 40 years, posters and UV brochures by David Rudnick and Raf Rennie appear at the Serpentine Sackler Gallery, along with an installation by Katja Novitskova of her famous stock animal cutouts set to the backdrop of alien planets as an example of the accelerating and“never-ending relationship of image into object”. Extinction Marathon companion site EXTINCT.LYstreams the presentations while writer Huw Lemmey summarises them live on a blog. Kari Altmann, UBERMORGEN, Alex Mackin Dolan and Emily Jones contribute online commissions to the site with its header of a redesigned extinction symbol by Marathon co-curator Ben Vickers, with Kei Kreutler and Lizzie Homersham. It’s the same one that flashes across the Third Line booth wall at the end of Sophia Al-Maria‘s devastating tour of Frieze Art Fair proper. In a continuation of its theme of catastrophic endings, Al-Maria presents‘Whale Fall’ (2014) as it narrates yet another pending extinction of a species through a largely blank blue screen. Jack Halberstam’s polemical ‘The Homosexual Says Yes to Sterility’ appeals to a humanism less concerned with individualism, reproduction and self-preservation at all costs, instead calling on an end to the human itself (“No Future”).
Anna Zett on the other hand imagines a Jurassic Age where humans are yet to exist at all, with a premiere screening of the artist’s This Unwieldy Objectfilm-essay and its companion ‘DINOSAUR GIF’ (2014) video lecture, exploring the ultimately destructive mythology of a young US superpower that’s embedded in the fossils of pre-historic dinosaurs and the film culture to follow. Trevor Paglen envisions the end of the Athropocene era as he contemplates the eternal cosmic debris of communications satellites and their potential for sharing human history with a species of the future in ‘From Fibre-Optic Beings to Fossils in the Sky’. It’s a foresight that looks further than the 10 years Ed Atkins is allocated in carrying out his decade-long epilogue to Extinction Marathon in the www.80072745.netonline commission. He’ll send personalised email correspondence to mailing list subscribers via email, which is probably the most resilient form of communication in an ever-evolving technological landscape. But perhaps the artist knows he doesn’t need to look that far ahead anyway, when you consider his inaugural email subject line: “U R G E N T”.
Anna Zett, ‘DINOSAUR GIF’ (2014) video lecture gif. Courtesy the artist.
Jesse Darling, Federico Campagna and Franco ‘Bifo’ Berardi discuss communication via a spoken language that’s changing with the written online, as Darling proposes a ‘Yolar’ verb for the root acronym of YOLO while suggesting not everyone perceives the world through sight and sound. Marguerite Humeau‘s Cleopatra, on the other hand, is granted a subjectivity beyond her historical objectification via a synthesised voice for the ‘Cleopatra “That Goddess”‘ (2014) music video at the Marathon, while Aleksandra Domanović‘s job applicants are not so lucky at Sunday Art Fair. The artist’s readymade ‘Disney Letter’ (2014) at the Glasgow International booth is dated “June 7, 1938” and kindly informs “Miss Mary V Ford” that “women don’t do any of the creative work”.
Ceaselessly referred to as the “indie” art fair by major media during Frieze, booths from High Art, Seventeen, The Apartmentand Lüttgenmeijerpresent at the Ambika P3 event, among a Laura Aldridge installation of string, soda cans and prints at Studio Voltaire. Florian Auer‘s digital prints of fibreglass and resin t-shirts – body-free but frozen into the shape of a torso – are hung on a wall at Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler in one corner. Sandy Brown‘s presentation of an installation from Jean-Michel Wicker and two wall hangings from Aude Pariset are in another. The latter’s inverted whitewash of lurid inkjet prints revealed within the white tiles on ‘Rehabilitated Scribble (blue swallowtail / Vyal one)’ (2012), echoes the similarly noxious, though oddly alluring sterility of Amalia Ulman‘s The Destruction of Experiencesolo exhibition at Evelyn Yard. There’s a collector at the gallery just off Oxford Street discussing the price for a piece of her performed and embodied Facebook timeline, under a clock circled with self-portraits inspired by Frida Kahlo. It reminds me of one of Matthew Higgs‘ framed prints hanging at the White Columns booth back at Sunday Art Fair. All it says is, “You get what you pay for”. **
Amalia Ulman, The Destruction of Experience (2014). Courtesy the artist and Evelyn Yard, London.
‘Round the back of Jupiter Woods there are mushrooms growing. Or at least there was one, smaller than a pinky nail and indistinguishable from the other rubble in the multi-shelf structures stacked high with chipboard, in the yard of the Bermondsey gallery where the ceiling’s falling in and there’s toxic waste nearby. Having seen the space in a week where extinction was on the brain, this productive generative artwork was a most welcome relief from all the end-is-nigh narratives with their “we’re all fucked” messages during Frieze week.
The Mycological Twist (2014) @ Jupiter Woods. Detail. Courtesy Anne de Boer and Eloise Bonneviot.
As part of a survey of all the good stuff on the periphery of October’s art-as-liquid-asset week (more on that here) a visit to The Mycological Twist permanent installation, opening along with Genuine Articles on October 2 and running indefinitely, meant a chat with artists and initiators of the project, Eloïse Bonneviot and Anne de Boer, who point out the tiny white thimble of a fungus, from the stacks of hay, soil and plastic-covered shelving surrounding us, explaining that the rest of the mushrooms could spring up overnight.
I don’t know what’s happened since but in light of energy-sucking artists critiquing energy-sucking enterprise through energy-sucking art, it’s nice to see an effort to transform all the toxins into something a little more constructive. Particularly when positioned beside what I can only describe as the most beautiful toilet I’ve ever seen; a maybe disused outhouse with yellow, green, red, blue and brown paint peeling from its inner walls and a perfectly round cistern beneath a TV rack screening ‘Respawn’ (2014). It’s a collection of video featuring contributions from 17 artists, Juliette Bonneviot, Sam Kenswil, Lars TCF Holdhus, Anna Mikkola, Emily Jones and Jaakko Pallasvuo among them.
Eloise Bonneviot and Anne de Boer, ‘Respawn’ (2014). Film still. Courtesy the artists.
Launched with a mushroom brunch and dinner and a ‘Shroom Music & Myco_educational_VJ-set’, where Bonnevoit and de Boer occupied the first floor roof top of Jupiter Woods to play their evolving playlist, The Mycological Twist is an experiment in the regenerative powers of the fleshy, spore-bearing bodies. That’s all while offsetting some of the the energy needed to keep the digital image going and the ‘Respawn’ video rolling. **
Header image: Harm van den Dorpel, ‘Cloud on Title’ (2013) install view at ‘The Mycological Twist’ (2014) @ Jupiter Woods. Courtesy Anne de Boer and Eloïse Bonneviot.
