Exhibitions
at Baloise Park Art Forum
Keren Cytter, Shahryar Nashat, Benedicte Gyldenstierne Sehested, Daniel Topka, Anna Uddenberg, Bri Williams «Who can hear the monster speak?»
October 16th – July 9th, 2022
EN
«Who can hear the monster speak?» finds its beginning in the body - or: the gaze on the body. This is a gaze that lays itself almost imperceptibly, but nevertheless determinedly over the skin, so as to subject the body to its constant judgment. The question of which bodies are observed by whose gaze, however, remains unanswered here. «Who can hear the monster speak?» engages its protagonists in a dialogue of looking, producing bodies that become both subject and object of observation. Bodies that look and are looked at are also bodies that desire and are desired. Actors find themselves - if only for a brief moment - in an intimate exchange that just as quickly turns into a sense of alienation. For the lack of understanding what the other person thinks or feels creates a distanced gaze. This is also a gaze that defines the other body as such - the other, the viewed, the desired. The body and the other body face each other:
«Who can hear the monster speak?» finds its beginning in the other body - or: the monstrous body. The bodies that mark one, and only one, position within a supposedly binary system are opposed by the bodies that are located outside of heteronormative conception: 'The monster is one who lives in transition. One whose face, body and behaviours cannot yet be considered true in a predetermined regime of knowledge and power.' (Can the Monster Speak?, Paul B. Preciado, London 2021, p. 35)
Thus, «Who can hear the monster speak?» also finds its beginning in the monstrous body - or its voice, which is tied to its physical manifestation in the body. But possessing voice presupposes hearing voice. In this translation - a collective act of hearing or not hearing - lies the establishment of the supposedly voiceless and indeterminate body. From the point of view of a silent, monstrous body, the Spanish philosopher and theorist Paul B. Preciado speaks to all non-monstrous bodies:
‘Why is it, my beloved binary friends, that you are convinced that only subalterns possess an identity? Why are you convinced that only Muslims, Jews, queers, lesbians, trans folk, people who live in the banlieues, migrants and Blacks have an identity? Do you therefore believe that you – the normal, the hegemonic, the bourgeois white psychoanalysts, the binary, the patriarchal-colonials have no identity?’
Can the Monster Speak?, Paul B. Preciado, London 2021, p. 32
So, «Who can hear the monster speak?» finds its beginning in a body that catches a glimpse of its own image in the mirror – if only for a brief moment – unsure which gaze it is that is being reflected. And in the end, a body emerges that is grasped within a state of continuous transformation. This body is equally monstrous as it is non-monstrous.
Julia Hegi and Antonia Rebekka Truninger
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DE
«Who can hear the monster speak?» findet ihren Anfang im Körper – oder: Dem Blick auf dem Körper. Dies ist ein Blick, der sich fast unmerklich, aber doch bestimmt, über die Haut legt, um so den Körper seiner ständigen Beurteilung zu unterwerfen. Die Frage danach, welche Körper von wessen Blicken beobachtet werden, bleibt hier jedoch ungeklärt. «Who can hear the monster speak?» verwickelt ihre Protagonistinnen in einen Dialog des Schauens, wobei Körper her- vorgebracht werden, die sowohl Subjekt als auch Objekt der Betrachtung sind. Körper, die betrachten und betrachtet werden, sind auch Körper, die begehren und begehrt werden. Akteurinnen finden sich – wenn auch nur für einen kurzen Augenblick – im intimen Austausch, der aber ebenso schnell in ein Gefühl der Entfremdung umschlägt. Denn das Unver- ständnis dessen, was das Gegenüber denkt oder fühlt, schafft einen distanzierten Blick. Dies ist auch ein Blick, der den anderen Körper als solchen – den Anderen, den Betrachteten, den Begehrten – bestimmt. Der Körper und der andere Körper stehen sich gegenüber:
«Who can hear the monster speak?» findet den Anfang im anderen Körper – oder: Dem monströsen Körper. Denjenigen Körpern, die jeweils eine, und nur eine, Position innerhalb eines binären Systems markieren, werden diejenigen Körper entgegengesetzt, die an den Rändern heteronormativer Vorstellungen angesiedelt sind: ‘The monster is one who lives in transition. One whose face, body and behaviours cannot yet be considered true in a predetermined regime of knowledge and power.’ (Can the Monster Speak?, Paul B. Preciado, London 2021, S. 35)
So findet «Who can hear the monster speak?» ihren Anfang auch im monströsen Körper – oder seiner Stimme, die an ihre physische Manifestation im Körper gebunden ist. Aber Stimme Besitzen setzt Stimme Hören voraus. In dieser Überset- zung – einem kollektiven Akt des Hörens oder Nicht-Hörens – liegt die Etablierung des vermeintlich stimmlosen und unbestimmten Körpers. Aus der Warte eines still gelegten, monströsen Körpers spricht der spanische Philosoph und The- oretiker Paul B. Preciado zu allen nicht-monströsen Körpern:
‘Why is it, my beloved binary friends, that you are convinced that only subalterns possess an identity? Why are you convinced that only Muslims, Jews, queers, lesbians, trans folk, people who live in the banlieues, migrants and Blacks have an identity? Do you therefore believe that you – the normal, the hegemonic, the bourgeois white psychoanalysts, the binary, the patriarchal-colonials have no identity?’
Can the Monster Speak?, Paul B. Preciado, London 2021, S. 32
«Who can hear the monster speak?» findet ihren Anfang in einem Körper, der das Bild seiner selbst – wenn auch nur für einen kurzen Moment – im Spiegel erhascht, unsicher, welcher Blick es ist, der dem Körper hier entgegengehalten wird. Und am Ende zeigt sich ein Körper, der in der fortlaufenden Veränderung begriffen wird. Dieser Körper ist ebenso monst- rös wie nicht-monströs.
Julia Hegi und Antonia Rebekka Truninger
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15th of June 2022
performance by Florian Schlessmann
3rd of September 2022
PERFECT (2001) by Alexandra Bachzetsis
graphic design by Janic Fotsch
























Moving Bodies
Paul B. Preciado, in «An Apartment on Uranus», translated by Charlotte Mandell, London 2019.
There are people who use their bodies as if they were disposable plastic bags. Others carry their bodies as if they were Ming dynasty porcelain. There are people who are not treated as citizens because their legs cannot walk. There are people who live to transform their bodies into that of Pamela Anderson. Others who live to make their bodies into that of Jean- Claude Van Damme. And others who have two chihuahuas named Pamela and Jean-Claude. Some carry their bodies as if they were a common coat of skin. And others as if they were a transparent suit. There are some who get dressed in order to be naked and others who undress in order to remain hidden. There are people who earn their living by swaying their hips. Others who don’t even know they have hips. There are those who use their bodies as they would a public square. And those who treat them as if they were a private parking lot. There are those who understand their bodies as a savings account. And others as if they were a river. Some people are locked up in their bodies as if they were in Alcatraz. Others understand liberty only as something the body can pull off. Some people wave their hair to the rhythm of an electric guitar. Others experience electric shocks rising directly from their central nervous system. Some people will never let themselves leave the repertoire of acquired gestures. Others get paid to throw off this repertoire, but only within the realm of art. There are bodies that are used socially as sources of pleasure, value or knowledge for others. And others absorb pleasure, value and knowledge. There are bodies who are not regarded as citizens because of the colour of their skin. There are those who walk on a mechanical rubber ribbon to keep in shape. While others walk 600 kilometers on foot to escape war. There are some who do not own their own bodies. And others who believe that the bodies of animals belong to them. That the bodies of children belong to them. That the bodies of women belong to them. That non-white bodies belong to them. Some think that they are the owners of their bodies the way they own their apartment. Among them, some spend their time doing renovations and interior design. And others take care of their apartment as if it were a nature reserve. There are people who believe they own their bodies the way the cowboy owns his horse. They mount it, force it to a gallop, stroke It or beat it, give it food and drink, let it rest so they can use it again the next day, They don’t speak to their bodies, just as some people don’t speak to their horses. They are surprised when they realize that when their mount dies, they are unable to continue all alone. Various bodily services can be bought with money. Others are regarded as inalienable. Some people feel that their bodies are completely empty. Others imagine their body as a cupboard full of organs. There are people who view them as advanced technology. Others as a prehistoric tool. For some, the sexual organs are organic and inseparable from their own body. For others, they are multiple, inorganic, and can change shape and size. Some people make their bodies function solely on glucose, whether it’s in the form of alcohol or rapid sugar. Some people send tabacco mixed with poison directly into their lungs. There are some who make their bodies function without sugar, or salt, or alcohol, or tobacco, or gluten, or lactose, or GMO’s, or cholesterol. There are people who treat their bodies as if they were their slaves. And others as if they were their sovereign. Some people are not regarded as citizens because they prefer to live in keeping with the social conventions of femininity whereas their bodily anatomy identifies them as masculine. There are bodies who do everything quickly but never have time for anything. And those who do things slowly, who are even capable of not doing anything at all. Some bodies are not regarded as citizens because their eyes can’t see. There are those who take the penises of others in their hands until they ejaculate. And those who put their fingers in others’ mouths to put white paste in the cavities of their teeth. The former are called illegal workers. The latter qualified professionals. There are bodies who are not regarded as citizens because they prefer to obtain sexual pleasure with bodies whose sexual organs have shapes similar to their own. There are people who calm their nervous systems by taking tranquilizers. Others meditate. Some people drag their living bodies as if they were corpses. Some bodies are hetero but masturbate only while watching gay porn. Some bodies are not regarded as citizens because they possess one chromosome more or one chromosome less. There are those who love their bodes more than anything else. And those who feel unspeakable shame about their bodies. There are those who experience their bodies as if they were a time-bomb they’re unable to defuse. And those who take pleasure in their bodies as if they were a melting ice cream. Some people wear implanted mechanisms thanks to which their hearts can beat. Others bear in their chests a heart that belonged to someone else. There are others still who bear, inside themselves, for a time, another body in the process of growing. So, can one speak of a human body as if it were a single body?
Zurich, 10 November 2017