Current exhibitions at
FUTURA PRAGUE:

Ashley Holmes: A Free Moment

Curated by Christina Gigliotti
26/02 — 19/04/2020

Dor Guez: Vera Icona

Curated by Sara Reisman and Jaro Varga
26/02 —19/04/2020

Daniela Baráčková, Tereza Severová: Just Another Place

Curated by Jen Kratochvil
26/02 – 19/04/2020

Ashley Holmes: A Free Moment

Curated by Christina Gigliotti
26/02 — 19/04/2020

As you enter this room washed over with a sunset hue, I’d like you to turn inward. It’s not often that one can find time for a free moment of reflection, and so here we are, affording it to you, if you like.

 

Rhythmanalysis in vibrational ontology tells us that all matter, down to a molecular, even quantum level, vibrates. If a particle ceased to vibrate, it would cease to exist.

 

Does this knowledge free us from stagnation? Does it encourage us? Frighten us?

 

Within his body of work, Ashley Holmes works closely with sound and Black contemporary music to re-tell and re-articulate narratives from the past. Using samples and archival material from multiple genres and sub-genres, which he often distorts and alters, the artist challenges the audience by presenting familiarity alongside new, deviated forms. For A Free Moment, Holmes invites us into a space most often experienced collectively–that of a concert venue or club. With minimalism and functionality at the forefront, listeners are meant to experience sound without distraction or disturbances of sensory overstimulation.

 

The audio piece created for this exhibition, (in collaboration with Joseph Bond) on the surface level, coaxes us into a state of relaxation, of focused tranquility. One can start to recognize familiar sounds, notes, melodies, harmonies. It is not difficult to follow a pattern that woos us, oils our tracks for an easier slide into the infinity of repetition. One can imagine time softly padding along like this, with all gas and no brakes. As soon as we are lulled, however, the artists reveal their intentions. It is not unbridled continuity they seek, but moments of intensity to break the order. Cuts and chops awaken us out of sleep. Clashes and novelties make way for something new.

 

What endures? The more intense a vibration, the longer it echoes.

Christina Gigliotti

Dor Guez: Vera Icona

Curated by Sara Reisman and Jaro Varga
26/02 —19/04/2020

Situated between historical archives, contemporary photography, and video, Dor Guez’s exhibition Vera Icona brings together the Jerusalem born artist’s most recent photographic series Lilies of the Field (2019) with a trilogy of three experimental, narrative videos produced between 2009 and 2011, that collectively reflect on the relationship between language and displacement, and nature’s entanglement with perceptions of home and identity.
Lilies of the Field is comprised of mysteriously luminous pressed floral and plant arrangements discovered by Guez in his research at the American Colony archives in Jerusalem. The flowers highlighted in the project represent a diversity of flora indigenous to the holy land, and the areas surrounding the Old City. Popular souvenirs for tourists and missionaries making religious pilgrimages, the pressed flowers serve to document different forms of devotional labor, from the work of the artisans who pressed the flowers, to those who made the journey and acquired the flower arrangements as keepsakes.



Formed in the aftermath of the Great Chicago Fire in 1871, the American Colony’s initial pilgrimage to Jerusalem precedes waves of Jewish immigration to Palestine leading up to 1948, when the state of Israel was established. A mission of Christian Americans who left Chicago for Jerusalem in 1881, members of the American Colony became active in charitable work to help local communities, setting up orphanages, soup kitchens, and medical resources for locals who suffered before and during the World Wars. Their work was not intended to benefit members of any one religion, a reminder of Jerusalem’s spiritual import across affiliations.



Building on his work with the lilies, Guez has recently staged performative lectures within the archive of the American Colony where he presented his research findings that draw on the histories of Zionism, the Armenian quarter in Jerusalem, the American Colony itself, and Guez’s Christian Palestinian Archive. Initiated in 2006 upon the artist’s discovery of a suitcase full of family photographs under his grandparents’ bed, the Christian Palestinian Archive is a platform he established to document a minority within a minority, the Christian-Palestinian diaspora. Within Israel/Palestine, approximately 20% of the population that is not Jewish is Palestinian with Israeli citizenship, 8% of which is Christian – like the artist’s family. In organizing this archival project, Guez maintains a digital record of thousands of images submitted by professional and amateur photographers, material that is both historical and aesthetic, intended for use and circulation well beyond art audiences. Unique to his approach is that the archive is made up of scanned images, rather than the actual photographs. Once scanned, the originals are returned, so that Christian Palestinian visual culture can remain with its rightful owners. As an archivist, Guez’s intention is to fill in gaps, but as an artist, his work leaves more open to speculation.


Though not officially part of the Christian Palestinian Archive, the trilogy of videos featured in Vera Icona – titled (Sa)Mira (2009), Watermelons under the bed (2010), and Sabir (2011) – depict distinct portraits of three of Guez’s relatives on the Palestinian side of his family. Each video is staged as minimally edited, experimental narratives that tell stories of the protagonists’ everyday existence under occupation. Capturing the layered, and, at times, conflictual aspects of identity, the three videos underscore the historical trauma that each of the three family members has absorbed subtly and slowly. The use of language – a mixture of Arabic and Hebrew – reveals just how intertwined and embedded the two cultures are in the lives of the artist’s grandfather, grandmother, and cousin, whose perspectives span three generations.



The title of the exhibition Vera Icona suggests multiple meanings in different languages. Associated with the term ‘verity,’ which in English means true, in Spanish verá is the future tense of ‘to see’; vera also means ‘edge’, ‘side’, and ‘shore’. In Latin, Icona translates to ‘image’ or ‘figure.’ Taken together, Vera Icona might allude to what can be seen, or imagined, beyond the image that is before us. Each of Guez’s videos require reading between the lines, conceptually, to understand the implications of each of his protagonist’s experiences. Between the temporal ambiguity of Lilies of the Field and the stories of hybridity and marginalization expressed in Guez’s videos, Vera Icona is a subtle inquiry into what we know to be true, across generations and borders.

Sara Reisman

Daniela Baráčková, Tereza Severová: Just Another Place

Curated by Jen Kratochvil
26/02 – 19/04/2020

Nietzsche never fully recovered from aftereffects of the injuries caused by his fall off the horse during his service in the Prussian Army in his early twenties. In 1879 his condition started to deteriorate rapidly, which led him to decision to leave the post of philology professor at The University of Basel. In an effort to escape the pressure of the idea of a personal failure, he started to travel Europe. He spent the cold winter seasons at the Mediterranean Sea and the summers back in the Swiss Alps or at his mother‘s home near Leipzig. His eyesight was gradually deteriorating to such an extent that he wasn’t able to stay focused while writing and the white space of paper began to more and more resemble a never ending hollow crevice into which he was succumbing in free fall. At that time, even before the creation of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, The Gay Science or On the Genealogy of Morality, he was entertaining the idea that he wouldn’t be able to write anything new ever again. Literally at the end of his strength he learned about a new invention. Following centuries of half-hearted attempts (the first experiments date back to 16th century), the first industrially produced and commercially distributed typewriter arose. So-called Malling-Hansen Writing Ball allowed insertion of only one single sheet of paper which the machine operator had no way of looking at throughout writing, as it was covered by a bulky globular appliance equipped with a keyboard. The whole device resembled more a bizarre sculptural experiment or even a jewel, in spite of that, it was possible for an exceptionally proficient writer to reach the typing speed of 800 characters per minute (just for the comparison’s sake it’s good to add that the speed of typing on today’s keyboards is 190 – 200 characters per minute. Thanks to the invention of typewriter Nietzsche got back to his work in full force, he didn’t have to strain his eyesight, wrote with his eyes shut and created for himself a new direct flowline between his mind and the written word, mediated solely by the tips of his fingers gently tapping on the system of keys. The critics’ reaction was ecstatic; Nietzsche is back and more energetic than ever before. Only the closest Nietzsche’s friends and observant readers noticed other unexpected changes. Nietzsche’s expression style changed dramatically. He became much more belligerent, brisker, in the words of writer and composer Heinrich Köselitz literally telegraphic.


On 7 March 2020 Google Maps will celebrate its fifteenth anniversary since it was first publically launched. It seems incredible how long and yet in the total automatisation of its use ridiculously short this period of 15 years has been. The fifteen years of a tool that we nowadays use not only to navigate in space, but also to get information about the opening hours of the shops in the neighborhood, depending on our taste we find out about the programs of galleries or sport events. It’s a tool which still with a relatively non-invasive approach towards ads defines our daily wait for public transport, allows us to get around traffic jams on highways as well as shows us through Street View far away longed-for places in the intimacy close to the possibility of touch. We didn’t even have Smartphones fifteen years ago and the idea of a self-sufficient app in a web browser interface was absolutely revolutionary.

 

Even though we are still far away from the exact understanding of how a human brain works, it is clear that technology radically and to some extent unknowingly changes our in an endless march of the biological evolution established and attested patterns of perception and acceptance of information. To say that a Smartphone is an extension of human hand and that we are becoming cyborgs is now a trivial and outdated statement. What, on the other hand, it means and what it’s going to mean on the short-term platform of our own lives remains unclear.

 

The touch of soil, sound of wind, contact of our feet with grass or stones in an unnamed natural environment is for an urbanized men going through the technological transformation of their mind and body like a sound of a distant dream which outlines are slowly fading. Regardless if you come in contact with nature on daily basis or only sporadically during holiday trips, in case you don’t live under aluminum insulated roof in one of the last remaining places on the planet away from the internet coverage and your laptop isn’t stored in insulation chamber, then you are willy-nilly influenced by the technological transformation.

 

Just Another Place doesn’t comment on the relationship between humans and technology, it doesn’t use the term cyborg, nor does it try to critically review the Anthropocene epoch. On the contrary, it exhibits the multilayered reality of unconscious influences and their possible effects on the platform of references taken out of time and space by subtle touches of sounds and images resonating throughout the contemporary notion of dichotomy of the natural and cultural, or more precisely – the cultivated. At first glance everything seems to be legible and substituting, yet the simplicity of the gesture brings back memories and evokes a subconscious feeling of lost sense of belonging placed somewhere deep in our genetic code. The current acceleration, within which scope fifteen years seems like eternity, falls apart and the sound of flute or uncovering of the surface of soil with a digging spade suddenly gets back its time exceeding the meaning. A place close and far, the localization of home, localization of an exotic land, localization of a person as a dynamic point on the map. All of that is just another indeterminate space, despite being pinpointed in the maze of neurons and their connections, and even though it might be clouded for many, it remains clearly defined.

Jen Kratochvil

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