EVERY WHERE IS HOME / ALT LENZING
Yvonne Giedenbacher
openings: all starts somewhere in the middle, but you have to start somewhere, so, like it or not. in this case, the interval between, on the spot where the door comes up and rasping through the resulting gap is in a room looks, which is half in shadow. and behind it comes a room, and behind a still. as if each of his next birth, ready and equipped with carpet covered.
florence: every room of this infinite series is equipped with carefully remnants, the little things, more or less amiable, which supposedly lives on the love (a collection plate, a kruxifix a tulip from China). at least two forms of presence: the order of things, in which the love solidifies images to the memorial, between the traces of wild living the leaves.
Columns: the individual rooms are clearly built strictly from oak veneer and houseplants. but the breaks are clearly visible: carpets, which increases dust in the nose and on which you want to curl up between all of the crumble and the little tuft of hair - a gray, a little blonde - who is inextricably have intertwined. plug all the cracks and gaps, in which it takes place. where the spider mounts their networks, where one is set up temporarily and if you are lucky to be the body of the nest to meet, at least for some time. one come and go. impression in a warm bed, a crumpled handkerchief under the lotter bank, a red ball rolls by. who has turned on the tv? and suddenly there is a doll on the table and breathe moist donut on the plate. still.
