...In der fundamentalen Stimmung des Schreckens haben wir dieses Ereignis in unserem Wesen erreicht, dank dessen nichts offenbart wird und worauf die Frage gestellt werden sollte.
Martin Heidegger, 1927
Art as sculpture: no occupying of space. Sculpture would not deal with space. Sculpture would be the embodiment of places. Places, in preserving and opening a region, hold something free gathered around them which grants the tarrying of things under consideration and a dwelling for man in the midst of things.
MARTIN HEIDEGGER, 1927
Being and Time III, 2019
Time is defined by the mechanical movement of the stars. Being is a timeless reality. Time can’t be beaten, but you can understand it through the study of being. Art is a graceful instrument for the studying of this process.
Being and Time II, 2018
Time can’t be beaten, but you can understand it through the study of being. Art is a graceful instrument for the studying of this process.
Being and Time, 2018
The creative process for the author is always a dialogue about its ontological grounds, better say a question of lawfulness, or in Sokrat terms – legitimacy.
Described situation immediately makes it actual Heidegger’s question on what to consider a form and what to consider space. If a sculpture is a border where is now space? Outside or inside? “Space inside which there is a sculptural body as a particular object; space, limited by the volumes of the shape; space as a void between the volumes – do these three spaces exist in unity of their counteraction…?
If you look carefully you can see that the wall is divided by deformation seams and looks like separate writings with hieroglyphs painted with white color on the plaster.
Such inscription can belong to the hand of four-eyed Cang Jie who was a philosopher, knew the language of birds and medicinal properties of the plants and was the inventor of Chinese writing according to one of the legends...
It is a situation of loss where a thing lost is found by another person who loses it too and then someone else finds again, and this someone throws it away failing to discover its purpose. In Die Deworfenheit, desolation of being is a metaphor to the abandoned Earth which like some self-winding casket is neglected by God