Hundred Zundert

Nº 49 / October 2022

In her work, Lisa Vlaemminck explores the boundaries of painting, creating an exciting, vibrating and disorienting universe. In her images, she questions very classical phenomena in painting, such as the landscape and the still life, by freezing them behind semi-transparent layers of paint. We catch a glimpse that feels familiar, but soon find that nothing is what it seems. Vlaemminck’s work oscillates between the microscopic and the interstellar, as well as the amorphous spaces in between. Image, material, shape, texture and form mutate into compositional playgrounds floating in a newly created universe where different laws and rules apply.

The book “Screensaver Error” is conceived as a symmetrical, folded stack of sheets with images of Lisa’s paintings and collages.
At the heart of the book is the sixty-metre long, worm-shaped textile sculpture, which runs like a stream through the book for many pages.
Dominique De Groen wrote an electrically charged shimmering poem tailored to the work. The introductory text was written by Simon Delobel.

In KIOSK, Lisa Vlaemminck presents a series of new paintings and a sixty-metre long textile sculpture that will occupy the various exhibition spaces. For the design of the fabric, Lisa worked patterns that form a long colour gradient.

At the end of the exhibition, the sculpture, Meat A Morph Hose, will be cut into 35 separate, new sculptures that will be offered as artworks at € 350 each. Each work is a part of the colour gradient and has a unique print. The proceeds will finance the book. Details: Printed cotton, latex spaghetti filling, the ends are closed with climbing rope
40 cm diameter x 130cmA signed copy of the book will also be delivered together with the work.
The sculptures can be collected from KIOSK at the book-launch: Sat. 26 November

The artist is reprented by gallery rodolphe janssen

With texts by Phillip Van den Bossche, Filarowska and a conversation between Eva Wittocx and the artist (NL/EN)

Nº 48 / October 2022

sawing a plank is like going for a walk by Kato Six (b. 1986) is published on the occasion of Kato’s solo exhibition at M Leuven this autumn. This book encapsulates 10 years of her quest as an artist.

The work of Kato Six (b. 1986) balances between abstract and figurative art. She works on different themes which she develops into series or ensembles. Architecture, design, domesticity and utensils all act as important references. Starting there, she uses recognisable and everyday materials such as MDF, stone, plastic or textiles.
Kato wants to question certain affinities and let the viewer look at familiar objects or images from a different perspective. As a viewer, you feel connected to the object or image but the actual meaning or function no longer applies.

Some of my works refer to the domestic, especially the most recent ones, such as ‘Carpet Beater Carpet’ and ‘Striped Knitwear’. The invisible work done by “housewives”, but also by workers or maintenance staff, is certainly one of the themes addressed in ‘Carpet Beater Carpet’. The above works are textile works, created with so-called “soft skills”. In the arts, these “soft skills” are often attributed to female artists — women often being assigned a certain medium.
Kato Six in conversation with Eva Wittocx in “sawing a plank is like going for a walk”

This publication brings together a text by Dagmar Dirkx and reproductions of Ot Lemmens' installation Going Virile. 

Prior to starting to work on their public installation Going Virile, two of the eight display windows were vandalized and cracked. Having intended to work around the idea of passing in a trans-masculine context, Ot turned their gaze to the relationship of masculinity to violence, questioning the reproduction of ideas around masculinity through transmasculine embodiment. They designed and screenprinted 6 patterns of which a few are reproduced in this publication. 

During that process they invited Dagmar Dirkx to experiment with writing a text in parallel to their work. The text Ten Non-Binary Hertz arose from a conversation between the Dagmar and Ot about trans-masculinity in relation to desire, violence and the idea of passing.

Text by Dagmar Dirkx
Translation by Titane Michiels
Design by Ot Lemmens
Made possible by VGC Brussel and Nadine vzw

In The Book of Na, translation acts at the edge of perception. Tracing across projects in film, video, and performance, Na Mira reflects on the violent fragmentation of bodies while refusing the containment of geographic and corporeal borders. In 1977, a name is cut at an immigration office. This gap turns into an intergenerational score for becoming heat, hexagram, hologram. Using oracular and glitching technologies, Mira witnesses what escapes data: doppelgängers, dreams, endangered tigers, tesseracts, A. Turiyasangitananda Coltrane's stairs, Theresa Hak Kyung Cha in a theater, Korean shamanism, frozen ligaments, wildfires, borderlands, subatomic particles, and pink. Syncing to a clock with neither face nor hands, Mira’s hauntological permutations in time, death, and relation travel outside the symbolic order and draw energy from the void.

Na Mira’s autobody rites have been presented at sites including Seoul Museum of Art; Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles; Portland Institute of Contemporary Art; Participant Inc., New York; and Whitney Museum of American Art, New York. She earned an MFA from the University of California, Los Angeles. She grew up between the US and East Asia and teaches outside.

The third Publiek Park publication – Walking Guide – combines essays, archival fragments, and artistic voices to trace both the exhibition route at Plantentuin Meise and the historical path that led from the creation of the Jardin Botanique in the heart of Brussels to its relocation outside the city. Following the logic of a quilt, layering different perspectives, textures, and timelines, the book connects artistic narratives with history and reflections on urban gardens, public space, and botanical imaginaries. Just like the exhibition, the publication offers not merely a portrait of a place, but a reflection on the multiplicity that defines it.

Alongside documentation of the exhibition and contributions from the participating artists, this year’s Walking Guide features writings by Nikolaos Akritidis, Denis Diagre-Vanderpelen, Koen Es, Lana Jones, François Makanga, Noam Youngrak Son, and Jean Watt. The two parks are portrayed in photographs by Michiel de Cleene, with book design by Victor Verhelst and Corbin Mahieu bringing all of these elements together.

This publication is made with the generous support of Plantentuin Meise and all partners.

For Sebastian Black, 2020 was a year like no other: a pandemic; three exhibitions; a move to Los Angeles; a presidential election; a baby, too. Local Warming is Black's tale of it all, as recorded in his diary.

One million years ago, when I started making the paintings compiled here, I was listening to lots of audiobooks and recorded philosophy lectures. It was the winter of 2019, my paintings were about this and about that, and every brushstroke drifted safely over a net of ideas. I was gathering a list of things that I knew to be true because I was sick of having nothing to say when people asked me to explain myself. Then a professor, who to me is now a holy exegete, said that difference precedes identity as the substance of reality. I'd been eavesdropping on YouTube as he taught a continuing-ed class on Deleuze for a claque of narrative therapists. Difference before identity. I couldn't grasp the idea— only touch it. That's okay, said the professor, as though speaking directly to me, the point of thinking isn't to grasp things that are true but rather to prod things that are interesting. — Sebastian Black

Sebastian Black is an artist/writer. He was born in New York City in 1985. He lives and works in Los Angeles. 

Bricks from the Kiln is an irregular journal edited by Andrew Lister and Matthew Stuart, sometimes with guest editors, that presents graphic design and typography as disciplines activated by and through other disciplines and lenses such as language, archives, collage, and more. It borrows its title from the glossary notes of Ret Marut’s "Der Ziegelbrenner," which was the ‘size, shape and colour of a brick’, and ran for 13 issues between 1917 and 1921.

The latest installment, "#4: On Translation, Transmission & Transposition," was published as an event (and now) a publication, with events at London College of Communication, Burley Fisher Books & Pig Rock bothy, Socttish National Gallery of Modern Art, and Inga (in November, 2019).

GREENING
Helen Marten
(front / back flaps)

JOY & HAPPINESS, FIDELITY
& INTIMACY IN TRANSLATION
Sophie Collins
(pp.4–13)

PLANETARY TRANSLATION
Don Mee Choi
(pp.15–19)

TRANSLATION AND A LIPOGRAM:
OR, ON FORMS OF AGAIN-WRITING
AND NO- (OR NOT THAT-) WRITING
Kate Briggs
(pp.23–33)

UNHOMING (1 of 4):
FOLLOWING HÖLDERLIN’S ‘HEIMAT’
Phil Baber
(pp.35–47)

SNOW WHITE AND THE WHITE
OF THE HUMAN EYEBALLS
Joyce Dixon
(pp.51–62)

ALTAMIRALTAMIRALTAMIRA
Florian Roithmayr
(pp.65–116)

LEVEL UP, LEVEL DOWN
Jen Calleja
(pp.119–124)

TRANS.MISSION [A.DIALOGUE]:
A JAVASCRIPT FOR THREE VOICES
J.R. Carpenter
(pp.127–134)

THE MECHANISATION OF ART
Edgar Wind
(glosses / annotations / insertions by
Natalie Ferris & Bryony Quinn)
(pp.137–144)

UNHOMING (2 of 4)
Phil Baber
(p.147)

COMMISSION FOR A NOIR MOVIE
B IN THE BAY OF BISCAY
Rebecca Collins
(pp.151–157)

UNHOMING (3 of 4)
Phil Baber
(pp.150–162)

EVERY CONTACT LEAVES A TRACE;
TRANSCRIBING OSTEON
Naomi Pearce
(pp.165–170)

HOW DOES A WORK END?
Karen Di Franco
(pp.173–193)

METONYMY Op.1 & Op.2
James Bulley
(pp.197–201)

AFRIKAN ALPHABETS EXTENDED
Saki Mafundikwa
(pp.204–207)

SUSAN HILLER: 1983
Natalie Ferris
(pp.209–217)

EVERY TELLING HAS A TALING /
EVERY STORY HAS AN ENDING
Matthew Stuart
(pp.220–233)

GRAPHIC PROPRIOCEPTION
James Langdon
(pp.235–254)

UNHOMING (4 of 4)
Phil Baber
(pp.257–263)

TUNNELLING AND AGGREGATING
FOR DESIGN RESEARCH
Bryony Quinn (text) &
Peter Nencini (images)
(pp.265–272)

LET IT PERCOLATE:
A MANIFESTO FOR READING
Sophie Seita
(pp.275–280)

288 pgs, 22.4 × 17 cm, Softcover, 2020