Nana Mandl

Nana Mandl, visual Artist based in Cape Town / Vienna

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Since I am living in a culture which is largely characterised by virtuality and social media I like to play with the co-existence of these two worlds (the virtual and the material). I like to think of myself as being part of the ‘Generation Remix’, that has unlimited access to the infinite digital archive, finds, copies and recombines pre-existing media, shapes and concepts.

Appropriating images from advertisements, blogs and by other artists, I produce work that was created on a computer, than printed on fabric and later physically modified with paper or paint. 

Using kitschy materials or subjects exposes the artificiality and superficiality that often dominates meaning nowadays.

– Nana’s bio for Celeste Prize

Alex Furlin

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Alex Furlin
@thefurlinator – – –
Most importantly though, books are magazines are real. They have gravity. You can even stack books on top of each other to form a makeshift TV stand. That’s big. The presence of a raw, physical, individualized object allows our monkey brains to form a relationship with a book — but also a phone. And herein lies the danger. Developing existential bonds with books, which are one thing and that thing only, is directly tied into the content of the book. Nobody forms sentimental relationships with books just because they look and feel nice — though those are certainly important factors. But you bond with it because the material resonates with you. The fusion of those bonds makes books feel special, even yours. Magazines kind of replicate the same thing, inasmuch that the idea is to develop a relationship with the brand instead of a single book. But still, they live with you. They sit in the corner of your bathroom floors. Bathroom buddies.
This is the relationship we now have with our smartphones. But because the content inside the raw physical object is a never-ending infinite stream of progress, insanity, and everything between, the secondary relationship to the content and soul is lost amid a sea of convenience and list of things you forgot about and are now being told to love. And video games. And social media. There’s so much other shit to do on our phones than read that (focused, conscious) reading almost never wins out in the end. Our anxiety about being up-to-date on pointless goings-on in major social media hemispheres almost always gets the best of us (and it certainly affects the best of us as well). Articles are written to reflect an average landing time of fourteen seconds before the user hits a clink or swipes left, on to something that could potentially be better. Forever.

How to remedy this?
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excerpt from Furlin’s recent Queen House Publication

Julien Fargetton

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Julien Fargetton
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I move. I look at the floor or very far. I observe the edges, corners and the horizon.

An attention that led me to signs, places, people.

These meetings create frictions and traces.

Then I model these forms in animated or static images, with sound or silence, drawn or put into space. –

December 2013, mistral is off. An island off Marseille: Frioul

I stroll there when I see a green task littering the sand.

Digging like a dog without a leash, and after ten minutes of effort I discovered what must be a container (that stuff in ugly plastic that smells when you open their mouths)

On the front, arabesques draw the arms of an Italian city.

A night passes … I go to Marseille but I needed to go back. The next day, early in the morning, I took a boat to pick this stuff,

equip it as a backpack and bring it back to home base. I had to give him honor, and answer to his lonely


Then I filled the dump with a whole mess of stuff and add two straps.

The big day, the trash became my survival kit … a book, a map, a sketchbook, a tent, a sleeping bag, dried

fruits, water, sun cream and a tablet of Spasfon. It was a fantastic bazaar, indiferrenziato.

400 kilometers of walk, to experience the close terminology that separates the useless, the

useful and the futile. Where come these objects, what they tell us and how their stories become ours?

400 kilometers further: Cogoleto. My traveling companion is no longer mine. Madam Mayor

offers me a spinach lasagna to comfort me. Poetry is physical, it gives me appetite.
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from his most recent portfolio, a diary entry about the work ,,Salon de Marseille,, – soap, photographies- a bar of soap from Marseille pushed along its streets for the duration of seven hours. #julienfargetton