Kreislauf is an oneiric trip about the continuous cycle of human rebirth. Our dreams create the fabric in which the threads or individual tendencies appear and disappear, only to become visible once again. The dynamic of this video is a weave of repetitions and juxtapositions of the experiences that create the dance of life. Everything is cyclic, nothing disappears; everything is perpetually mutating in landscapes of anguish and joy, violence and calm, solitude and union. The traveler is the active force of his own fate when he realizes that what is most significant in life is the act of living itself.

I encountered the roundworm in the Alps when I attempted to repair the water catchment of the cabin after a storm. I wished for this animal found at the spring to be a visited line, then searched for potential visitors and found, just nearby, a nest of firebugs in a dried chestnut leaf, which I placed just outside of the image field. The granite slab, roundworm, bugs’ nest and a fly lived their lives within a radius of 100 meters. My part in this was to bring them into direct proximity for the duration of an hour, to focus my camera and to breathe onto the upper part of the lens, in order to increase the atmospheric depth of the picture. Finally, to come to the allegation I’ve made via the title that something was a line that actually is an animal (when normally, in a contrary approach, characteristically formed lines represent animals or the like). The combination of the simplicity in the foundation / bedrock with a simultaneous insecurity in view of scale and nature of this white line, holds my fascination.

The title, ‘In Ekklesia,’ comes from the Greek word ‘ecclesia,’ which refers to the democratic parliament that served Athens in its halcyon days by being open to male citizens every other year. Solon, an Athenian legislator and a sage, allowed all citizens to serve the parliament regardless of their social class in BC 594. The Ecclesia made decisions about war, military strategies, and all judicial and administrative issues. This work satirizes various facets of humans and machines in the 21st century, unconsciously within a dystopian environment. Isabella Fürnkäs introduces a method of combining and overlaying countless images in her work, providing the new experience of sensations that act in ambiguous flows, movements, interference, and interjection. The piece is about the new metaphysical and material connections appearing through digital conversations that are divorced from the general notion of time and space, as well as isolation and alienation. Text by Hyun Jeung Kim (Nam June Paik Art Center Seoul)

A digital video transferred from 16 mm film shows a number of slightly differing takes of the same short sequence: A man walks over a bridge and seems to notice something over the railing to his left hand side. As he moves in for a closer inspection, the film cuts, which is then followed by another take of the same shot.

On the Kuwait roads the journey goes in a western direction, past military bases and a line of oil transporters. Dreary sound sequences are pumped out by the radio. In the middle of rubbish heaps by the roadside a pack of wild dogs is trying to find shelter from the wind. Wim Catrysse presents the Kuwait desert both as a post-apocalyptic setting and as protagonist. During the journey, the car window is an obstacle, made even more so by the screen. The viewer, dumped in the desert, does not manage to reach it through the window. MSR, the Main Supply Route, is the main highway used to coordinate military operations in the Gulf War in 1990/91 and the War in Iraq in 2003. Filming is forbidden here, so the pack of wild dogs carries the story at first. But their behaviour keeps on bringing the desert into focus as the principal actor. Underlined by the sound track, its seeming hostility to life awakens the impression of a dystopian timelessness reminiscent of the apocalyptic scenarios in films and makes the viewer feel ill at ease. Catrysse examines conventions, both in a political-dogmatic and in a filmic sense.Nathalie Ladermann

A crawler is a searchbot in the internet which Johanna Reich uses to collect special comments or phrases about the most discussed topics during the last years like A.I., climate change, digital revolution, gender and the turn of democratic systems. Johanna Reich selects several of the collected phrases composing a robot performance: self-driving projectors move across the exhibition space and project comments about a.i., gender or climate change onto the audience and architecture.

solid surface,with hills,valleys,craters and other topographic features,primarily made of ice„solid surface, with hills, valleys, craters and other topographic features, primarily made of ice“ is set in a planetarium with a projected starry sky, in the center of which is situated a light spot, that explores the space. The Film deals with the moment, shortly before the actual visualization of pluto’s surface properties, whereas the entire cupola hall of the planetarium serves as a metaphorical projection surface of Pluto. The round light spot formally points to the shape of the celestial object and functions as placeholder for its soon arising image.

In cosplay of the Japanese cyber diva Hatsune Miku, the artist moved to Tokyo, seeking an identity in the world of Miku fanatics, where she was drawn into a love affair with one of the fans. Miku is a Vocaloid, a vocal synthesizer software personified by a cute animated character. Her entire persona: lyrics, music and animation – is fan created, and that's her charm. She even performs sold out concerts as a hologram. By transforming herself into a Miku character through cosplay, Oren enters a world of real hardcore fans where fantasy is more real than reality and the differentiation between the two becomes obsolete. The film examines the performative nature of cosplaying – dressing up and playing the role of fictional characters – as a hybrid space where reality blurs into fetishistic fantasies and pop culture clichés. Combining fan-made lyrics and songs, Oren's trials and tribulations in the fictional Miku world unfolds through vague erotic episodes and encounters with characters whose ontological status remains mysterious, bringing to mind the adventures of a modern Alice in a virtual Wonderland.

Den of Wolves is a seamlessly-looping video installation drawing on a range of references to weave a new multi-layered mythology. The work follows three bizarre wolves through a series of increasingly surreal retail stores as they search for the regalia of a monarch. Composed of one continuous camera shot, the work is an immersive, dreamlike journey drawing connections between popular culture, institutional authority and technological over-dependence.

At transmediale, Stefan Panhans and Andrea Winkler show their work HOSTEL Sequel #1: Please Be Careful Out There, Lisa Marie – Hybrid Version, a new project that combines film, installation, and staccato stage reading (on blinkvideo we are showing a trailer of the integrated film). With everyday racism, celebrity worship, stereotypes, and the dominating power of the economic all on the rise, precariously and flexibly traveling cultural workers of different origin deliver a sort of spoken word battle about their experiences and dreams. They constantly switch roles and, at the same time, form a choir that clashes with the rapped reports of everyday life. As in a collaborative gymnastic exercise—surrounded by scenery made up of set pieces from outfits of airports, hostels, and courier services, from self-optimization tools and game show displays—they fight for a voice and to be heard, building new alliances along the way. for more information: opening of transmediale

Mariola Brillowska’s animation film relates the total collapse of the family system in the 21st century. Six cartoon episodes present an unsparing account of how children become murderers of their parents.

“Point Blank” refers to a film scene from "The Misfits" (1961) that is now re-enacted and further contextualized. In the original scene, the recently divorced main character Roslyn (Marilyn Monroe) rises up against three worn-out cowboys and, in the middle of the desert, confronts the men with all their lacks and lost dreams. In “Point Blank”, we see a young woman wandering around in surreal desert landscapes, a journey into the remoteness of the world and her own inner life. With every step out into the desert, the girl descends into her own depths searching for a place that seems to be suitable for her emotions and words. Unlike Roslyn, the young woman now refers to absent addressees: "Liars", "Murderers" and "Dead Men" she screams and turns around wildly. The words, which spread like bullets in the air, fall back on her. Except for a faint echo, there is no resonance at this place that depicts the obsessions of a distorted, patriarchal society and has become a dramatic backdrop of yearnings within the collective history of cinema. Where Roslyn was able to elicit a terrified astonishment from the three men, the character in Julia Charlotte Richter's video remains to herself and unheard, the desert as the only witness of her manifesto, her anger and her strength.

The night city. Industrial ruins filmed in contrejour. Memories from childhood. Different places and times combined at the mountain. It is a hollow portrait of Eastern Europe that carries the traces of its history.

The film is a trip to the planet Muscovy, which is an upside down space twin of the city of Moscow. As the title of the work suggests, the journey also takes us back in time. Gliding along the surface of the planet, we look down to the sky and see historic architectural styles fly by - the exuberant Socialist Classicism aka Stalinist Empire, the laconic and brutish Soviet Modernism, and the hodgepodge of contemporary knock-offs and revivals of the styles of the past. An essential companion to this journey through time and space are Hymnic Variations on the Soviet anthem by the composer Alexander Manotskov. The anthem was written in 1943 and has undergone three editions of lyrics yet musically remained unchanged to now serve as the official anthem of the Russian Federation. Manotskov used an early recording of the anthem as source material to create three electronic variations each corresponding to an architectural style. As if in a twist of Goethe’s phrase, architecture plays its frozen music. Look closely, can you hear it?