Talk Talk @ OVERGADEN



TALK TALK WITH EVIL KNIEVIL THURSDAY 11 JANUARY KL. 20:

OVERGADEN is pleased to present an evening with Jens Kabisch aka Evil Knievil.

Evil Knievil is a character invented by the German performance artist Jens Kabisch. The character is inspired by the legendary stuntman Evel Knievil, who from the mid Seventies risked his life in spectacular ways to entertain an extremely large, international audience.

With his project perfektewelt – the home of Evil Knievil, Jens Kabisch continues Evel Knievil’s strong personality, courageousness, symbolic value and myth.

The event is free and open to all, and is arranged by Jacob Lillemose & Mia Lipschitz, who have also organized a performance with Evil Knievil Friday 12 January at Turbinehallerne – sometime after midnight. Both events are supported by The Danish National School of Theatre og the Goethe Institute .

For more information look in our calender at www.overgaden.org or at www.perfektewelt.com

PRIVATE VIEW AT OVERGADEN FRIDAY 12 JANUARY 2007 AT 5-8 PM

This Friday, the following exhibitions will open at OVERGADEN – Institute of Contemporary Art:

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JØRGEN CARLO LARSEN hid og did (to and fro)

NINA JAN BEIER & MARIE JAN LUND Dance Like I Do

GEIRTHRUDUR FINNBOGADOTTIR Losing the Plot

EXHIBITION: 13 JANUARY – 25 FEBRUARY 2007

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It is a great pleasure for OVERGADEN – Institute of Contemporary Art to present the first three exhibitions of the new year: a solo exhibition by the Danish artist Jørgen Carlo Larsen, a sound installation by Icelandic Geirthrudur Finnbogadottir, as well as a collaborative project between OVERGADEN and Århus Kunstbygning – Centre for Contemporary Art: a “twin exhibition” by Danish artists Nina Jan Beier & Marie Jan Lund.

The exhibition hid og did (to and fro) is a rare opportunity to experience a solo exhibition by Jørgen Carlo Larsen. An installational and sculptural trail takes up the whole of the ground floor at OVERGADEN, and the exhibition is created in close dialogue with the specifics of the space, its history and architecture. hid og did involves familiar existing objects along side manipulated objects that in the exhibition enter into new constellations, and together with the artist’s “rebuildings”, amongst other things of OVERGADEN’s distinctive interior, the result is characterised by pragmatic coincidence
In addition, during the private view, the artist will execute a series of improvised murals accompanied by live organ music – scaffolding, paint, brush and bucket will be left as traces of the performance. The exhibition is supported by the National Workshop for Arts and Crafts and the Danish Arts Council.

On OVERGADEN’s first floor we are presenting the two artists Nina Jan Beier and Marie Jan Lund are interested in the relationships between people and in challenging often unspoken social customs, habits and rules. In the exhibition Dance Like I Do, Beier & Lund document a series of different staged situations through the use of photography, video and sound.
As an audience one gets to experince the artists’ social experiments by watching or hearing the documentation. However, the aucience is also invited to interact with the Common Objects, where one is exhibited at OVERGADEN. Common Objects is a series of interactive objects in wood, ceramics and leather, which mime various functional implements, and which require two people handling them collectively.

Dance Like I Do is a unique collaboration between two Danish art institutions. With this title, two supplementary exhibitions will be presented at OVERGADEN and at Århus Kunstbygning – Centre for Contemporary Art (16 February – 25 March) that together add an extra dimension to the exhibitions’ concept about individuality and the collective.

Also on the first floor we present the Icelandic artist Geirthrudur Finnbogadottir’s first solo exhibition in Denmark. The exhibition consists of the work Losing the Plot – a sound installation that unfolds in the gallery space. The work is based on one song split into independent and fragmented elements, which are played into the room simultaneously and thereby together create a complex cacophonic sound experience. Geirthrudur Finnbogadottir has adapted the song The Fear from the British band Pulp’s album This is Hardcore from 1998, and in Losing the Plot Finnbogadottir zooms in on one piece of English pop history so to point to a collective consciousness in contemporary culture.

  • :::::Overgaden::::::
  • Madeleine Berkhemer !


    Madeleine Berkhemer working on L’Ecole des Caresses I, 2006
    photograph by Wink van Kempen

    Für Fragen und Bildmaterial wenden Sie sich bitte an:
    For questions and images please contact:

    Galerie Nicola von Senger AG
    Bleicherweg 45, CH-8002 Zürich

  • Nicola Von Senger
  • Ruben Lorch-Miller


    REUBEN LORCH-MILLER
    Just the Other Side of Nowhere

    January 12 – February 10, 2007
    Opening Reception: Friday, January 12, 6-8pm

    Schroeder Romero is pleased to announce Just the Other Side of Nowhere a solo exhibition by Reuben Lorch-Miller. This is his first solo show in New York.

    Just the Other Side of Nowhere repeats basic themes of power, language, and representation. Added to these are ideas of fictive biography, regionalism, cultural motifs, idealized images and objects, formalism, anti-heroics, ambivalence and landscape. The work physically exists as flags, text paintings, video, photography and sculpture. The pieces are intended to be viewed as parts of an interconnected whole, composing a nonlinear, cyclical and tangential visual narrative. Images and forms are inverted, reflected, doubled, looped, tipped over and turned in on themselves.

    This body of work borrows from artistic traditions that examine themes of isolation, delusion, redemption, downfall, violence and reinvention. Additionally, within these forms, the environment or landscape often acts as a character of power, sustainer, destroyer, regeneration and death. Much of this work locates itself at the edge of place and time, involved in an endless cycle of hope and despair.

    Reuben Lorch-Miller has had numerous solo exhibitions including New Demands at Catherine Clark Gallery in San Francisco in 2005. He has been included in the recent group exhibitions Hybridity at the 21c Museum Hotel in Lexington, Kentucky, Swallow Harder at the Frye Museum in Seattle, and Searchers at White Box, New York. His work is included in the permanent collection of the Brooklyn Museum of Art.

  • Schroeder Romero
  • Cereal Art

    The idea of multiples is the distribution of ideas” -Joseph Beuys

    Cerealart develops, produces and distributes a range of three-dimensional visual artist’s multiples. The sculptural designs are conceptualized by critically acclaimed internationally recognized contemporary artists who are interested in exploring the possibilities presented by consumer culture. Authorship is published and highlighted as an integral part of each work. The designs are limited production editions and are distributed through Cerealart, Museums and galleries throughout North America, Great Britain, Europe, Asia and Australia and New Zealand.

  • Cerealart
  • Klosterfelde
  • Kunstonline
  • Chasing Dash Show…


    Dash on High Line.
    (Photo: Cass Bird)

    Chasing Dash Snow
    At 25, he is a growing downtown legend, a graffiti writer turned artist with a beautiful face and a De Menil pedigree, elusive even to the two friends who created his myth. What happens if he’s caught?

    The artist Dash Snow rammed a screwdriver into his buzzer the other day. He has no phone. He doesn’t use e-mail. So now, if you want to speak to him, you have to go by his apartment on Bowery and yell up. Lorax-like, he won’t come to the window to let you see that he sees you: He has a periscope he puts up so he can check you out first.

    Partly, it comes from his graffiti days, this elusiveness, the recent adolescence the 25-year-old Snow spent tagging the city and dodging the police. “He’s pretty paranoid about lots of things in general, and some of it was dished out to him, but others he’s created himself,” says Snow’s friend, the 27-year-old artist Dan Colen, who—like so many of their friends—has made significant artistic contributions to the ever-expanding mythology of Dash Snow. Colen and Snow went to London together this fall for the Saatchi show in which they both had work. (Saatchi had bought one of Colen’s sculptures for $500,000.) Saatchi got them a fancy hotel room on Piccadilly. They had to flee it in the middle of the night with their suitcases before it was discovered that they’d created one of their Hamster’s Nests, which they’ve done quite a few times before. To make a Hamster’s Nest, Snow and Colen shred up 30 to 50 phone books, yank around all the blankets and drapes, turn on the taps, take off their clothes, and do drugs—mushrooms, coke, ecstasy—until they feel like hamsters.
    Warhol’s Children: Snow, McGinley, and Colen
    Slideshow: The Best of the Bowery School
    PLUS:
    Terence Koh at the Whitney
    Doug Aitken at MoMA
    A Note From the Editors
    If you want to find Snow, you have to find Colen, or Snow’s other best friend, the 29-year-old photographer Ryan McGinley, who four years ago became the youngest person ever to have a solo show at the Whitney. That show, “The Kids Are Alright,” depicted a downtown neverland where people are thrilled and naked, leaping in front of graffiti on the street, sacked out in heaps of flannel shirts—everything very debauched and drug-addled and decadent, like Nan Goldin hit with a happy wand. Part of what made McGinley so famous (like Goldin before him) was that he offered not just an artist’s vision of a free and rebellious alternative life but also the promise that he was actually living it, through photos that looked spontaneous, stolen, of an intimate cast of characters, a family of friends, and in McGinley’s case, of Snow in particular. In some ways, Snow has been his muse.

    “I guess I get obsessed with people, and I really became fascinated by Dash,” says McGinley, who shares a Chinatown loft a few blocks away from Snow’s apartment with Dan Colen, whom McGinley has known since they were teenage skateboarders in New Jersey. The apartment used to be a brothel; for a long time, Chinese men would come to the door and be disappointed when McGinley or Colen answered it. McGinley shows me his photos of Snow over the years, dozens and dozens of them. Snow with cornrows, with a shaved head, with a black eye. There is one photo called Dash Bombing that was in the Whitney show: a shadowy shot of Snow out on a ledge, tagging a building in the night sky, Manhattan spread out below him. It’s an image of anarchic freedom, one that seems anachronistic and almost magical in this city of hermetically sealed glass-cocoon condo towers. It’s as if Snow were an animal—prevalent in the seventies, now thought to be extinct—that was spotted high over the city.

    “I actually don’t like graffiti,” McGinley says. “I was just interested in the person that would write their name thousands and thousands and thousands of times. These kids that would go up on a rooftop, 40 stories up, and go out on a ledge to write their name—it’s just, like, the insanity of it all!” McGinley smiles his clean smile. “It’s funny to me that Dash has become like a rock star, but he’s so paranoid. That comes from graffiti culture—like, you want everybody to know who you are and you’re going to write your name all over the city, but you can’t let anyone know who you really are. It’s, like, this idea of being notorious.”

    And because notoriety is crucial to something much larger than graffiti culture, Dash Snow is becoming a kind of sensation. Young people poured out onto Joey Ramone Place waiting to get into his last show at Rivington Arms gallery. He had a piece in the Whitney Biennial—a picture of a dog licking his lips in a pile of trash and several other Polaroids. You may not be able to find him, but you can hear his name, that zooming syllable—Dash!—punctuating conversations in Chelsea galleries and Lower East Side coke parties and Miami art fairs and the offices of underground newspapers in Copenhagen and Berlin, like a kind of supercool international Morse code. Because the art world loves infamy. Downtown New York City loves infamy—needs it, in fact, to exist.
    By Ariel Levy

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  • New York Magazine