RAVIV GANCHROW – IMAGING FATE
soundSTILL HERE II
installationsoundTYMPANIC TETHER
installationsoundRAINBOW STUMPS
islandperformance & writingsoundSLOW RISING WHITE SALES
performance & writingRE-INVITED DEAD FOLKS
performance & writingFRONT OF HEAD VOID
performance & writingWE ARE SMALL
performance & writing3102
islandperformance & writingTWO THOUSAND THIRTEEN – GO NEW ENCOUNTERS
islandCLOWNING IN THE NEW YEAR
installationislandMANN-LY PURSUITS
islandSANTO-GYPSIES
islandperformance & writingHALLOWEEN NEXT – MIDNIGHT DECOMPOSURE
installationislandTURNING RADIUS OF OUTER WINGTIP
islandperformance & writingMANIFESTO-ING
islandperformance & writingLONDON IS EMPTY, BUT HAS AMAZING CAB DRIVERS
installationislandperformance & writingMANIFESTO FOR MANIFESTOS IN CRISIS
islandCARL WEBER ARRIVES ON SANTORINI
islandJULY 18TH 2012
islandKYIV DIARY – DAY LAST
installationislandperformance & writingKYIV DIARY – DAY 2
installationislandperformance & writingISLANDS’ UNDERSIDES
islandperformance & writingNEW BLOOD GREEK CINEMA
installationislandINTERN’S DIARY – JUNE 26TH
islandperformance & writingINTERN’S DIARY – JUNE 25TH
installationislandperformance & writingINTERN’S DIARY – JUNE 24TH
islandperformance & writingINTERN’S DIARY – JUNE 23RD
islandperformance & writingSandwich Gallery
bg-color-14installationCarl Weber
archivebg-color-13videoCurtis Tamm
bg-color-12installationThomas Myernick
bg-color-12installationMegan Dominescu
bg-color-11textile artIntern’s diary – June 22nd
islandperformance & writingPraire, tights factory, screen
islandIsland-Ports
islandResidency start!
islandKyiv Diary – Day 1 May 22
installationislandperformance & writingClaire Bishop and our literal speed
islandtalkAmbient Santorini
installationislandFictive pursuits
islandperformance & writingThe long braid, the balcony, the arrow
islandperformance & writingPseudophotography
photographyTragic historiography
islandperformance & writingSign competition
installationislandperformance & writingsoundThe copyist
installationislandperformance & writingsoundA house with a view
installationperformance & writingsoundRadio Free Santorini + Aural Lighthouses
bg-color-5installationperformanceradiosoundtalkNew Blood Greek Cinema
bg-color-4videoPachinko Playalong + new Fello works
bg-color-3installationlive performancesoundvideoNina Fischer & Maroan El Sani
bg-color-2installationOrder of the Third Bird
bg-color-1performancevideoNika Neelova
bg-color-6performancesoundtalktextvideoLeon Pozniakow
bg-color-7installationTrajal Harrell – Sister or He Buried the Body
artbg-color-8performanceRaphael Hefti
bg-color-9installationA house with a view
On the April fool’s day past, already five months into the Santozeum project, the earthquake in Japan reverberated along a system of underwater tremors through Crete to Santorini. The cliff top moved for a minute, the chandelier swung, we were frozen and connected, aware of the moment, of the lack of exits and safety standing on top, looking at the culprit who last erupted in 1950. We drove to the center of the island, to a village still scarred and dismembered from the 1950 fallout. The fog fell and the village animals were out of sorts.
I had been coming to the island for years and wandering through the fog. But it was only since October that we decided to restore the Santozeum building – a composite of buildings linked with tunnels under the street and over existing structures and into the side of the cliff. The 50-some windows and 50-some doors were splintered, stuck, locked and keyless. Glass was broken, doors trespassed, the beautiful building belonged to the drifting universe of a small island town – anonymous criminals, among the well-known roster of citizens.
had been coming to the island for years and wandering through the fog. But it was only since October that we decided to restore the Santozeum building – a composite of buildings linked with tunnels under the street and over existing structures and into the side of the cliff. The 50-some windows and 50-some doors were splintered, stuck, locked and keyless. Glass was broken, doors trespassed, the beautiful building belonged to the drifting universe of a small island town – anonymous criminals, among the well-known roster of citizens.
With each layer stripped from wall or floor the omphalos rose and observed its own view – volcano through twin palms, unpruned for 30 years. With it I breathed more easily and stood in the panes of unfinished windows and doors waiting for the hard cliff breeze to exorcise the house’s unuse.
The building is tranquil and strong. Its sounds – those of the soundtrack to its exhibit and those of the passers-through and their echoes – are sheltered. It is like a stone boat – carved in, through, under and atop the cliff. Wholly private and aloof while organically linked with every passing and viewing body, the Santozeum is a giant. Ungodly but mythical, otherworldly but a village hearth – the Santozeum rooms, gardens, roofs and chimneys are the airwaves of creative ethers.




