An excavator covered in shit and German sausage

Result #1

An excavator covered in shit and German sausage études a chunky, pissed-off black man. But there is no dialogue, only a scene of violence. It is as if the reader is seeing a twisted, dismembered version of an ordinary drama. Yet, as in Kafka, a ragged piece of steel is a point of entry. The steel frame is a mirror of the heart, and the heart is a mirror of the mind. In this section of the show, the heart is the mirror of the mind. The steel frame reflects the mind.The whole exhibition recalls the black humor of the Monks in the period, for whom the black in the world is a sign of darkness. But the black in the mind is nothing like the black in the world. There is no black here; black is a reflection of mind. The mind is an abstraction, a reflection of thought. The mind is a mirror, a reflection of mind. The mirror is a place for reflection; the mirror is a place for reflection; the reflection is a place for reflection. The mind is a mirror; reflection is a place for reflection; the reflection is a mirror. The mind is a reflection of mind; reflection is a place for reflection; the reflection is a mirror. The mirror is a place for reflection; reflection is a place for reflection. The mirror is a place for reflection; reflection is a place for reflection. The mirror is a place for reflection; reflection is a place for reflection; reflection is a mirror. The mirror is a place for reflection; reflection is a place for reflection; reflection is a reflection. In a few places, the mirror is a place for reflection; in others, reflection is a place for reflection. In a few places, the mirror is a place for reflection; in others, reflection is a place for reflection. In a few places, the mirror is a place for reflection; in others, reflection is a place for reflection.

Result #2

An excavator covered in shit and German sausage ills sits in a corner of a morgue; the corpses of his mothers and fathers lie on the floor. He holds a sign, VITRITES UNIT, LETS DO IT, he says. His response is the kind of mantra you hear in an airport—a rough, repetitive mantra with the hiccups of a lost voice. The sound is broken by the wailing and the wailing of a crying baby; the cry is muffled.Bertolt Schörzebühns photographs, photographed in the Middle East, show the dead, tortured, and abandoned. In his photographs, the body is in a state of transit: Its limbs are amputated; its eyes are closed; its nose is cut off. The dead, who are we? The human body is an icon of the Middle East. Themes of migration are present in Schörzebühns work, as in the images of refugee camps or the Palestinian refugee camps in Israel. In the works on paper, Schörzebühns subjects are Palestinian Arabs, most of whom are descendants of the first generation born in exile, whose ancestors are Palestinian Arabs, and who are often in exile from their homelands. In these camps, the refugees have become part of their community, and their bodies are sometimes treated in a sanitary manner. The photographer, of course, is not there to photograph the bodies; he is there to document the living dead. The dead, who are we? Bertolt Schörzebühns photographs show the dead in the Middle East, but their bodies are all the same, and his photographs seem to be a kind of memorial, even a memento mori.The photographs are shown in three formats. The first is a group of seven small black-and-white photographs that show the same man, the same clothes, the same body.

Result #3

urns, the works title suggests a posthumous tombstone or a memorial to the fallen soldier. In contrast, two untitled collages with leopard-print ink-jet print, Untitled, 2006, depict the artists father and son. The two-part print, shown here, may have been produced by the artists father, but the leopard print is almost as old as the canvas on which it is based. These two works, which provide an unexpected compendium of the artists work, are startling in their obvious allusion to a communal moment, as well as in the color of the paint. But the title is also evocative of the interior of the buried soldier, and it is these visceral scenes that create the works most evocative effect: They register as both dead and alive.

Result #4

An excavator covered in shit and German sausage utes could use a shovel to dig a hole, just as the powerful, golden-age witch of the British Isles might have. The only thing missing was a jackhammer, but this could have been a work of both beauty and criminality.Of course, such a theme of hatred and oppression would not be out of place in a novel by J.G. Ballard or a Jorge Luis Borges. But in spite of the obvious references, there is no clear reason why this work is so much better than any of the other pieces in the show. Its just that the pieces are so different from one another—theyre so different in their style. How else can one explain a variation on the theme of hate in an otherwise completely homogeneous show? A whole collection of crudestuffed art objects would not be any more exciting if not interesting, but, in this case, the work of no one artist seems to be the most interesting thing in the show.The art objects are, in fact, all very different, yet each of them is notable for its uniqueness. If you look at these pieces, youll see what I mean: Each piece is different, but the style that they all use is very distinctive. Some pieces are finished in a high-gloss matte black; others are hand-painted in a single, deep-blue, matte black. The whole range of colors is quite different, and each has a very distinctive style. The choice of colors and types of paint are also quite different, so the whole show is much more than just a kind of homage.The shows centerpiece was a large, darkly beautiful, unsized, wood sculpture by Robert Rauschenberg, entitled Big Frog, 1987, which stood out from the rest of the show because it looked so different from the other pieces in the show. The sculptor has chosen a rather decorative, round shape for the piece—a Ugly Duckling, to be precise.

Result #5

An excavator covered in shit and German sausage iced in a glass vase (Wademann) glows with a brilliant purple, like a new-agey magic mushroom (Müller) that one could only think about if one were a fan of the cultish American TV show The X Factor. (Müller, after an accident that wiped out his family, was a semi-professionally talented musician who played on a Walfredo Lopez record, which was playing in the background of the show.) But beyond the shows esoteric, even mesmerizing, confectionery, the show offered a more personal, and more interesting, experience. It seemed to have been crafted with the same care and attention to detail as, say, a family album. Möller, who is in his late forties, was probably the most culturally informed of the artists featured in the show. Although he is not a true believer in the notion of performance art, he does draw on his experiences as a performer, from what he has seen in his own performance, writing, and performance. In this show, Möller brought the period of his life when he was growing up to the present with a surprising and affecting openness and sincerity.The show was divided into two groups of work. One, consisting of new pieces, consisted of drawings, memorabilia, and prints (mostly of Möllers own) created since 1993. In the show, Möller brought together his own family and friends. In the drawing of this group, a man with a beard holds a pair of scissors and a sewing machine to his temple and his waist. The stylized man holds his nose and pursues a running fountain. It is hard to know what to make of these works, which suggest an intimate tenderness, a willingness to touch. The other group of drawings, made between 1994 and 1995, show Möller in his studio, where he is creating an installation for a concert.