Redukt Print

Inspired by a song from the band "Einstürzende Neubauten" Redukt Lyrics: Bargeld Music: Bargeld / Hacke / Chudy / Moser / Arbeit My hands, my arms, my legs, my body, my head and I The immutable, indestructible, self, I The center, the cell, the nucleus, the sum of the human cell culture. Am I, is me, in every cell? Thought hardly is "I" the sum of genetic material As if the music were programmed into the radio's wiring. Is there anything redundant, ossified*, that can be peeled off, That can be discarded like ballast, like sandbags out of a hot-air balloon? Layer for layer, epidermis, mesenchyme and derma, Fibers, mucles, tendons, flesh, capillaries, veins, aorta, fatty tissue, synapses Bones, marrow, skeleton. And which or what remains? The "I" makes its claim, so long as a tongue, a fidgeting hand: Can still lay claim to "I"? And if possible that too is claimed headlessly (Like Cephalophors, with a single stroke one head shorter) Redukt! What happens in love, outreaching or overstepping Or the numbness, up to a point, that point where "something" still remains. The hollow nut (which had not developed), at any rate: development, As if something had been enveloped, Ariadne's thread, unrolled to its fullest length, Needs to be used up. Always along the wall, dead certain, The way out of the garden, the garden maze. I wander to while away the time, as if otherwise time would collaps in on me, Like a carrion-eating beast. Redukt! Let's just let everything reduce! Redukt! Let's peer into the stream of the perished, Now being swept down the passage of time, through the delta towards the mouth, Out into the gaping, cosmic ocean. Are there any more coming? To the corpses have something to say for themselves? Besides: Look! Scandal! We are those that you will become! We are there! You are not! But death stays hated to all of human nature It tears down hope almost to the ground Redukt! The foundations are in the wrong place, This house should have been set in the heavens, So the gods could die, regularly and in temporally classical proportions. The golden cross-section through the throat of a venerable celestial body, That then ejaculates its divine blood in short spurts Into the divine summer morning, because it is always summer, Until man/woman, myself included, can say: Finally, infinitely, left in peace, but moveable, Free to make noise, without guilt. Redukt...

Print:Giclee on Fine Art Paper

Size:8 W x 10 H x 0.1 D in

Size with Frame:13.25 W x 15.25 H x 1.2 D in

Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.