/ Julia Carolin Kothe
A box at the end of a gently ascending ramp.
Long, dark, silent nights.
She shines
in the cool glow
- like a screen.
The cold light
keeps her awake
but she seems tired,
her eyelid half closed.
I‘m approaching me you her.
She seems to be a vessel,
for something that I consider as an onlooker.
We are all going down, together.
I watch what‘s happening.
A group of figures assembling,
seeking for protection from the cold.
Exhausted, they‘re leaning against the walls
and against themselves.
Romping around
in shaky positions,
in restless conditions
between body and language.
And when they talk they just make sounds
that more or less synch up.
One of the figures is holding a surface
or does the surface hold the figure?
The surface as a protection,
a coat as gestures.
It's a question of holding
and finding each other.
The hand on top of the surface
reaches into the void.
A gesture
- a touch -
in freeze.
Unclear whether
directed forward or backward.
I wanted you.
And I was looking for you.
But I couldn't find you. I couldn't find you.
Devices cavort at their feet,
shaped by applications
from touch.
Filed
or lost.
I decided: This is the one _I_ want to sit next to.
So I sat down and we started to talk and suddenly I realized
she was speaking an entirely different language. Computerese.
A kind of high-tech lingo.
Physicality or digitality.
POKY, you dear architecture
inter humanity -
she, me, we, you, it
and a device.
This is the language of the on-again off-again future.
Always two things switching.
"Ugh. . . Ugh. . . Ugh. . . "
[ˈʔOoooO̫0oo0o:]
Another surface
- a screen.
Own imaginations:
It crunches
sibilates,
echoes.
Current runs through bodies and then it doesn't.
A window, in the window, in the window
at the window,
in front of windows,
strumming
(un) folding loops,
performative fiction
constructs
verbalising sounds
in dissonance.
It was a language of sounds, of noise, of switching, of signals.
And when it's shown
and or heard
but only at this point
in that particular space;
everything will start over and over again.
— Text by: Julia Gerke and Julia Carolin Kothe ( ⌦ german version)
— Quotes from: Laurie Anderson "The Language of the Future" (1984) / "Language is a Virus" (1986).
While our bodies are currently excluded from the exhibition space itself, questions of communication and connection become more important in terms of the limits and possibilities of our physical and digital being. Julia Carolin Kothe raises questions of how we are relating to each other and our devices within her exhibition at POKY's physical and digital spaces. Stick-figure-like objects indicate a mingling group. Smartphone-like objects are spread all over the floor. While both acts of her work can be perceived only through a screen-like surface the echoes involved may bring us closer to our fragmented life and its seducing potentials and relationships.
— Text: Julia Gerke & Julia Carolin Kothe (01.2021)
(INFO)
JULIA CAROLIN KOTHE lives and works in Glasgow (UK). She makes and conflates sculptural installation, sound, moving image, performance and text. Her practice evolves across various mediums, materials and formats by exploring (im)possibilities of communication between objects and bodies including spectators, performers and herself.She studied at Glasgow School of Art (UK) and Kunsthochschule Mainz (D).
In collaboration with artists she creates different platforms such as zines, art festivals and exhibitions. She is co-founder of the space ⌦ruelle, the feminist collective ⌦OrgaOrga and the performance festival ⌦PutPutPut which takes place on an empty plinth in public space.
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/ Julia Carolin Kothe
While our bodies are currently excluded from the exhibition space itself, questions of communication and connection become more important in terms of the limits and possibilities of our physical and digital being. Julia Carolin Kothe raises questions of how we are relating to each other and our devices within her exhibition at POKY's physical and digital spaces. Stick-figure-like objects indicate a mingling group. Smartphone-like objects are spread all over the floor. While both acts of her work can be perceived only through a screen-like surface the echoes involved may bring us closer to our fragmented life and its seducing potentials and relationships.
— Text: Julia Gerke & Julia Carolin Kothe (01.2021)
A box at the end of a gently ascending ramp.
Long, dark, silent nights.
She shines
in the cool glow
- like a screen.
The cold light
keeps her awake
but she seems tired,
her eyelid half closed.
I‘m approaching me you her.
She seems to be a vessel,
for something that I consider as an onlooker.
We are all going down, together.
I watch what‘s happening.
A group of figures assembling,
seeking for protection from the cold.
Exhausted, they‘re leaning against the walls
and against themselves.
Romping around
in shaky positions,
in restless conditions
between body and language.
And when they talk they just make sounds
that more or less synch up.
One of the figures is holding a surface
or does the surface hold the figure?
The surface as a protection,
a coat as gestures.
It's a question of holding
and finding each other.
The hand on top of the surface
reaches into the void.
A gesture
- a touch -
in freeze.
Unclear whether
directed forward or backward.
I wanted you.
And I was looking for you.
But I couldn't find you. I couldn't find you.
Devices cavort at their feet,
shaped by applications
from touch.
Filed
or lost.
I decided: This is the one _I_ want to sit next to.
So I sat down and we started to talk and suddenly I realized
she was speaking an entirely different language. Computerese.
A kind of high-tech lingo.
Physicality or digitality.
POKY, you dear architecture
inter humanity -
she, me, we, you, it
and a device.
This is the language of the on-again off-again future.
Always two things switching.
"Ugh. . . Ugh. . . Ugh. . . "
[ˈʔOoooO̫0oo0o:]
Another surface
- a screen.
Own imaginations:
It crunches
sibilates,
echoes.
Current runs through bodies and then it doesn't.
A window, in the window, in the window
at the window,
in front of windows,
strumming
(un) folding loops,
performative fiction
constructs
verbalising sounds
in dissonance.
It was a language of sounds, of noise, of switching, of signals.
And when it's shown
and or heard
but only at this point
in that particular space;
everything will start over and over again.
— Text by: Julia Gerke and Julia Carolin Kothe (⌦ german version)
— Quotes from: Laurie Anderson "The Language of the Future" (1984) / "Language is a Virus" (1986).
(INFO)
JULIA CAROLIN KOTHE lives and works in Glasgow (UK). She makes and conflates sculptural installation, sound, moving image, performance and text. Her practice evolves across various mediums, materials and formats by exploring (im)possibilities of communication between objects and bodies including spectators, performers and herself.She studied at Glasgow School of Art (UK) and Kunsthochschule Mainz (D).
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