Cut-up for Maximilian Arnold

The city (a semi-thick armature) in summer along the yellow center rapids over wrench in the wall, here, enumerate a floorline along which dust (chalk) likened to a baby blue tree branch in a train in a Mini driven through (here) not to orbit the bird he strode by completed on the wall one air cane extends left I follow the cumulous attention to an urban landscape when suddenly up thick your shoes the bottom too far to the massive look afar to see features of ongoing cerulean still-green riverwinding uneven footholds of water, ruins towards urges from lacquered we, stand, we, walk, has fallen on pollen from a rat, mouse or long-clawed print, believe in the drawing after of graffiti-workers tumbling through coat racks swing winter from the insect within meticulous strolling through to the growing extra-terrestrial layer with a double toy tractor: has to be the tripartite trail which spells me / them in the night an element toned, four hanging single bars opine towards the trail of the imagined you are paved, walk, wave feet kicking dust covers keys cling to papers wandered along to your left matching the blue or to be hung on a bluer tree turning towards a city in the earth (France), meanwhile cement fissures something, ponders the scrape of well-rounded layers of cobalt tints your arm your trousers your back turned to the white wind wall emptied off-base urban.

Maximilian Arnold's giant baby blue chalk mural as well as 3 other multimedia works are on display at Kunsthaus-Baselland, Basel, until January 8, 2017.  For other work by Maximilian Arnold, see his website at: https://www.artsy.net/artist/maximilian-arnold

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Postcards from Here—for 4 photos by Esther Hiepler

(to go with the 4 photos, left to right, on display at Kunsthaus Baselland)

By Jennifer K Dick

Postcard 1:

(I feel a sad) emptiness (here)

If I look into (through) you looking (through) into me (looking) through the split wires the scintillating reflections of (your) ceilings I can’t (be) (see) become solid enough to (support) breach this wall (missing you) taken aback by (my question, I) the I-beam exposed clipped lamp (was just wandering) near something (mechanized, I) overtaken (aglow) was just looking (through a) past (a passive) opening (you) looking into (me) splinters, brick, cement (seeing) plaster drying in this (abandoned bucket) re-construction (definition) of the scenic.

Postcard 2:

I come up close like the photographer and gaze down—a duck in the water and a man leaning on the helm of his barge. He is in a grey work suit, black shoes worn soft, red hoody bunched at the back of his neck emerging from coveralls. He looks forward, over murky milk-green water, beyond our view. I feel him sigh within my ribcage. Inhale, exhale brine-infused air. Our contented ease transports nothing but the remains of the self, years lighter in this second half of our century. Merchandise already delivered, responsibilities deposited elsewhere, vacant hull buoyant as he, the duck, float, flotsam and jetsam: debris in this vast world of cargo carrying on. A shadow, faint, almost indiscernible, shifts in tint (green to blue) greying off to the port side.

Postcard 3:

There is nothing like jealousy in an arboretum. Pink drapery of flowers, seed pods drooping from spindly branches outside on the tree whose miniscule tufts of green leaves sprout out thin, untrimmed branches. Trunk curving as if unable to support the blank white of windowless wall, smooth protrusion of stone air grates, or that darker tree’s purple leaves grouping into a dense canopy shading a corner where a summer stroller might take a break from the heat. Grates, thick mesh extensions, inhale and exhale. Someone perceives the waft of a soft perfume, the caress of another season just now, on the other side. Time unhindered.

Postcard 4:

Left over— 

6x4: White. Plastic. Rectangles taped into place: barrier covering the absented storefront. Housefront? Peer, if to, into. What merchandise sleeps in the shadows? Whose family lounges between velour flowers on beat-up sofas from the ’70s? What is watched from inside? Out: 8 vertical Venetian blinds protect what is within from view through a glass front door. Above. Rolled in tight. Awning: yellow, white, light orange pin stripes. No words. Logos. Graffiti. Signage. 2: double-sided ventilation grates form lungs screwed to the front façade below the large panoramic window, close to sidewalk level, 5 horizontal ventilation slats, metallic gills, breathe the inside out, the outside in. 5x2+5x2 slivers of air sucking in and out of the space barely contained. Enclosed. Beyond the visible. Beyond the visible banality of ½ of a parking spot on the right which leaves the façade exposed to view. To viewers’ scrutiny. (Ours). Blueblack ⅓ of a car at left—trunk, back wheel, tinted back window (protection from my gaze)—hides what stands before the door. Base? steps? A stoop? A welcome mat? Sadness of emptiness in the vacant lot longing. The parking meter is a staff with a plastic bird house on top. If I put my 2^₵ in and turn the dial, where can we go?

Esther Hiepler’s photos are on display at The Kunsthaus Baselland, Basel, until 8 January 2017.
For more, see Esther Hiepler's home site: http://www.estherhiepler.ch/ or  http://www.estherhiepler.ch/index.php?lang=en&

16 images = 16 word groups, after the series of photos by Christine Zufferey

a blank — a way

the decomposed body  — seedpod greening

round — churn (ed) (ing)

split liberty — anti-conscientious revising

rubious leafblush — tailstem autumn dragon

a voyage not taken  — double indicators along the magnetic line (to)

brusque — spiny — arcades where lovers past are waiting

l  — loosened / leftover / lingering  — needlepoint of noose

claw — mark  — linguistic sign

bone  — a button

snowapple  —  ovarian pomegranate

footless astronaut  — hangman

brush — claw  — saw-edge  —  blue —  beige  — black

color test  — for patriotic nationalism in the landscape of Mondrian

false valentine  — disgraced plastic daisy

steel token over olive wood  — synergy

Note: the photos by Christine Zufferey are connected by a thick green line painted on the wall. They hold together, are tied, linked, and yet their connections to each other raise more questions than answers. From that arose this associative word-image exercise, keeping the long dashes as a kind of parallel to her green line.

Esther Hiepler’s photos are on display at The Kunsthaus Baselland, Basel, until 8 January 2017.
For more, see Esther Hiepler's home site: The artist’s home website: http://www.pluriversum.ch/