Verloren lagst du auf dem Boden
Zerknirscht und zerknittert
Einsam und verlassen
Wurdest ewig wohl nicht aufgehoben
Doch dies‘ Mal fielst du auf
Du schwarzer Fleck
Hebtest dich ab von weißen Masken
So nahm es seinen Lauf
Selbst zu kalten Abendstunden
Wärmt meinen Bauch
Dein weicher Stoff
Wir haben uns gefunden
'The first true storyteller is, and will continue to be, the teller of fairy tales. ... always the art of repeating stories, and this art is lost when the stories are no longer retained' Walter Benjamin
From 21 to 22 February, eight performers spent 24 hours digging through a textonic landscape of 45 m³ of old clothes from planetary dwellers.
Their own bodies were wrapped and deformed by new and old, used or even still labelled pieces, whose value was already decaying in the hours of the creation & production process under the hands of the sewers. The prospectors infiltrated dunes of down jackets, excavated pits and penetrated the penetrating the innermost of materiality. No safe footing was possible. From the pile of clothes, they gazed out on the discarded landscape of Anthropozaen.
What stories and thoughts did they uncover? What can be explored, read and told of the discarded clothing that is contemporary civilisational history.
On 27 February, we invited chroniclers and word-finders to write down their thoughts on the textonic landscape of the BHROX bauhaus reuse as poems, essays, novellas or notes. We publish the texts in loose series.