The Meaning of Things (who feels the most pain?)

The artist's travel diary in New York.

Where will my mouth lead me? This question arises already in the first days of Hamza Halloubi's residency in New York. It characterises his diary entries from August to November 2024. He observes the art world, comments on cultural and political events and thinks about writers and artists who have long intrigued him and what his body and their ideas are doing in this city–and what this city does not do to him and them: David Hammons, Edward Saïd, Mohamed Choukri, Félix González-Torres… How they also appear like ghosts in his work. Hamza Halloubi approaches the viewer of his visual work, and here also the reader, as a social and political presence. In addition to his diary and image fragments from his films and exhibitions, this pocket book also includes two interviews with the artist.

Hamza Halloubi (born 1982 in Tangier, Morocco, lives and works between Brussels, Tangier, and Amsterdam) is a multi-disciplinary artist with a focus on video and painting.

A previously unpublished collection of 60 ink pictograms, drawn between 1976 and 1996, originally printed individually as A2 plane prints.

An early progenitor of the artist's book genre, Warja Honegger-Lavater was born in Winterthur, Switzerland in 1913. She worked as an illustrator for the magazine Jeunesse from 1944-1958, and moved to New York shortly thereafter where she began a wonderful series of artist's books. 
These books were published between 1962 and 1971, an exceptionally ripe time for artists to turn to the bookform, a time when the most often cited "first" artist's book also appeared, Twentysix Gasoline Stations (1962) by Ed Ruscha.

All of Honegger-Lavater's books are made using the accordion-fold binding. Her aesthetic has been aptly described as "very clean, very Swiss." Each book tells a story, sequentially, like traditional books, but varying from them by rarely using words. Instead she chooses a symbol to represent, for example, a character, as in the red dot standing in for Red Riding Hood in Little Red Riding Hood.

A comprehensive retrospective of the Spanish artist's work, covering his major exhibitions (Manifesta, Reina Sofia, MACBA, Raven Row, etc.) and including all of his texts published as fanzines over a period of twenty years, a new critical essay by Kim West, and a wide-ranging conversation.

Conceived as a compilation of works and writings of the last two decades, this book is structured as an alternating succession of four different registers: four recurrent modes. A long-form interview, a series of questions from different collaborators, documentation of a selection of projects, and a compilation of the facsimilia of the brochures published by the author since 2008. The aim of this concatenation of recurring sections is to delay the linear progression suggested by the narrative of a compilation, by the apparent causal string of decisions, ideas, references and works displayed as an accumulative "biography" of the artist's practice. However, this being a bound book, the suggestion of an interwoven relation between all the works, regardless of when, where or how they were made, must submit to the order locked by the sewn spine of its signatures, the folder of bound pages that forms each section of a book.

Designed by Filiep Tacq, the book includes an essay by Kim West and a long-form interview by Beatriz Herráez, punctuated by questions from Filiep Tacq, Lisa Tan, Jon Mikel Euba, Antonio Menchen, Alex Valijani, Johanna Gustafsson Fürst, Itziar Okariz, Olatz Otalora, Antonia Majaca, Pablo Lafuente and Koenraad Dedobbeleer.

What does an oracle look like? gathers essays and drawings made by Perri MacKenzie between 2020 and 2024, themed loosely around pottery painting and vocal expression. The drawings, rendered in splashy India ink and collage, range from expressive sketches to theatrical still lives and experimental bandes dessinées. The book presents for the first time the essay Cathedral. Part memoir, part literary/sonic investigation, it meditates on the vocal texture of a Hollywood actor.

Designed by Ilke Gers.

Who claims abstraction? What are the limits of abstraction? Are statelessness, dislocation and feelings of (un) belonging embodiments of an abstracted self that is in itself a work in progress? How could performance art—an artistic practice that places significant importance on presence and legibility of form—transgress into the realm of the abstract and the illegible in an effort to protect the artist’s likeness while shedding light on what it means to be in their body in relation to this world?

Chipo Chipaziwa’s My Mother My Home establishes itself as a query on the aspects of belonging and the artist’s own personhood that acts as the foundation of her practice. The question of where one’s personhood begins and ends within an artwork has appeared to be ever prevalent within the realm of visual art and is more relevant within the canon of performance art.

Writers: Chipo Chipaziwa, Denise Ferreira da Silva, Olumoroti George

Contributing artists: Margaret Joba-Woodruff, Sophia Lapres, and David Ezra Wang
Edited by Katrina Geotjen

"From this moment / and hence backwards / a visitation / echoes thru the apparent opening / to the tomb / the narrow passage is the mind's reasoning / in clarity / as she moves like a shadow / having lived her life before " — Joanne Kyger, from Places to Go (Black Sparrow, 1970)

"All processes measured as form are traceable in curved decay. Seemingly unmeasurable, unquenchable, the heart stone harbors its own native entropy. The evolution of organs is not ours to decipher. We’re drawn slanting toward the stone in helices of approaching circles. Our movements throw shadows, our bodies ring haloes." — Michael Cavuto, "Isis Theses"

"In the dual work of Isis Theses & Pyre I-V, living, death, language’s work of remembrance, place & poetic lineage all take part in shifting throughlines of recombinant forms, as a spiral spirals back on itself, changed over time. Early on, here, Cavuto writes “There is not enough wood for coffins. There is wood enough for a boat.” a Pyre then is a boat, a burning that is going somewhere, not death-as-end but as an upward & outward movement into collectively shared air, an archeology of connection. “Kyger wrote that memory is a weird dimension carried around invisibly in the ‘mind’’ Cavuto writes, in one of those moments that feels like a key, “Writing, she said, gives history back to you.” But it is not only history that Cavuto is carrying forward in these poems, it is something more spatially complex, enlivened & embodied in the dance of the words, & in the vital breakdown of the words themselves. The poems in Pyre I-V enact their answer to the question ‘what essence is left us when no words are left,’ & leave us, after the ritual process, dazzled with the true sense that something is left, something important of resonance & remembrance, in the atomized language-space; the air around the dis-integrating morphemes shimmering on the page as dissipative, potentiate sparks. —Cody-Rose Clevidence

Michael Cavuto is a poet based in Brooklyn, New York. His books include Country Poems (Knife Fork Book, 2020) and Pyre (Spiral Editions, 2025). With the poets Dale Smith and Hoa Nguyen, he publishes the Slow Poetry in America Newsletter. Along with Tessa Bolsover, he publishes hand-bound poetry books through auric press.

Pyre, Michael Cavuto. Illustrations by Astrid Terrazas. 52p, 8.5" x 6.75", hand sewn with red linen thread. Covers letterpressed on a 1963 Vandercook proof press with Strathmore Premium Grandee paper. Copy text and illustrations printed both offset and digitally on Mohawk felt paper in a first edition of 275. Printed, assembled, and bound in “Kingston, New York,” the unceded and currently occupied lands of the Haudenosaunee, Mohican, Munsee Lenape, and Schaghticoke. With thanks to Vladimir Nahitchevansky and the various friends who helped assemble.