This small selection of remnants is just a fragment of what happened over the years:echoes, accidents, experiments that refused to die.
In Art is War (2010), the endless hamster wheel of capitalism devoured its own believers, a mechanical shrine of exhaustion, desire, and self-betrayal, spinning at Google speed.
At the Bologna Motor Show in 2008, a work emerged about the anatomy of spectacle, about how women were treated like glossy surfaces, chrome for the male gaze. Eaten alive in heels.
The answer came with United Amazons, a revenge installation where the shield-maidens reclaimed their power and turned the game around.
Then there was I Hero in Verona in 2012, a dirty atomic bomb, its countdown could only be stopped if you stood directly in front of it. The moment you looked away, time continued. A fragile metaphor for moral responsibility and cowardice.
The functional lamp Wolfschanze asked the question: How would the hip grandson of the Führer live?
A lamp shaped by inherited madness a domestic joke about evil, elegant and absurdly vulgar.
In Your Game, we replayed the bureaucratic labyrinth of asylum, a cruel football match on European ground, every move ruled by chance, language, fear, and cash.
The Bottleneck Effect was born in our mountain village: the local children smashed our own sculptures to pieces, we pushed the fragments through a bottle neck and cast them anew in resin.
Destruction as inheritance, a new sculpture born from collective vandalism.
There was also Just Fishing, my quiet work on American denial, a German still monster living submarine VIIC/41 and an American yacht, frozen in marble, a slow collision of innocence, guilt, and their reversal.
These are by far not all, but the selected leftovers, scattered across the world.
Just enough to tell a story.
Just enough to remember what it was all about.
As we say at F.A.C.:
“Love each other. The rest is just maintenance.”
Europe, 2008
