Firmly embedded in art historical tradition, the reclining (female) figure may be read as an antidote to a present characterized by radical change and uncertainty. At the same time, it also appears to embody a state of universal exhaustion. In Nicole Wermers’s current exhibition, “Reclining Fanmail” at Kunsthaus Glarus, the classic pose is contrasted with modern-day utility carts, recalling Mierle Laderman Ukeles’s Manifesto for Maintenance Art (1969) – and with it, issues of class and gender relations within contemporary art. Reviewing Wermers’s recent work through the lens a crisis-laden Western world, the artist Brit Barton traces further associations and possible reference points – from anti-immigration policies over disinfectants all the way down to the pervasive grief of globalism and art world commodification.

Under the heading Current Attractions, we are publishing a regular column every two weeks where authors from different disciplines discuss a cultural object of their choice that relates thematically to our current issue. For this week’s iteration, which continues the theme of “Mourning,” psychoanalyst Jamieson Webster reflects on the recent memoir Blown Away by philosopher and psychoanalytic theorist Richard Boothby.

Living through inevitable ecological disasters, scathing antimigration populism, and the horrors of war leaves one feeling overwhelmed, powerless, and alone amidst deep mourning. One path to navigate this situation might rely on establishing new forms of belonging and caring for one another. For TEXTE ZUR KUNST, Imayna Caceres employs the idea of autohistoria, which was initially conceptualized by Gloria Anzaldúa to describe women-of-color transformations of traditional Western autobiographical forms that create stories of healing, self-growth, and cultural critique in the service of social justice work. Reflecting on her personal life and migration experience, Caceres simultaneously touches on the stories of others to create interwoven, collective identities that are based on reciprocity and reconnection between entities, both human and more-than-human.

Under the heading Current Attractions, we are publishing a regular column every two weeks in which authors from different disciplines discuss a cultural object of their choice. For this week’s iteration, Philippa Snow reflects on Jonathan Glazer’s 2004 drama film Birth.

Die Dak’Art, die Biennale für zeitgenössische afrikanische Kunst in Dakar, findet seit 1990 statt. Nach vier Jahren coronabedingter Pause versammelt das kulturelle Großevent, das noch bis Ende Juni zu sehen ist, Arbeiten von 59 Künstler*innen, darunter vier Kollektiven, aus 28 Ländern in der Hauptausstellung im verlassenen Palais de la Justice. Dabei sind es vor allem die kleineren Ausstellungen und Performances in den zahlreichen über die Stadt verteilten Off-Spaces, die die Dak’Art mittlerweile demonstrativer bewirbt als die Hauptausstellung. Michaela Ott hat sich auf eine Off-Tour durch Dakar begeben und unter den disparaten kuratorischen Entscheidungen einige ästhetische Preziosen gefunden.

A great deal of art and its display operate on the level of the spectacle: blockbuster exhibitions, grandiose installations, decadent art fairs, and far-flung biennials. This is undoubtedly a feature of an art world driven by its voracious market, though it’s certainly not a new development. Nikita Gale’s recent show in New York – a dynamic multimedia installation – refused to present a spectacle, as media theorist Annika Haas writes, instead highlighting the ethical and political implications of its dynamics. Haas reads Gale’s show as a critique of an attention economy in which spectacles rank above all, articulating forms that don’t buy into this aggressive economy. And yet, the spectacle nevertheless produced itself in the author’s mind.

Under the heading Current Attractions, we are now publishing a regular column every two weeks in which authors from different disciplines discuss a cultural object of their choice – be it an exhibition, a book, a film, a painting, a song, an article of clothing, or anything else. The theme of our current issue will serve as a kind of leitmotif for the short texts that appear here. Responding to the June issue of TEXTE ZUR KUNST, entitled Mourning, contributions to this column over the next three months will address questions of loss and mourning in the context of racist and right-wing violence. This series begins with a text by Annette Weisser on the forthcoming novel Diego Garcia by Natasha Soobramanien and Luke Williams, slated for release next month by Semiotext(e).