– Bourgeois de merde ! Vides de sens, vides de substance, résignés dans votre putain de médiocrité !
Henry savait être philosophe. Il attrapa le tube de Liqui Moly, en dégorgea deux noisettes de pâte sur un vieux chiffon qu’il étala et remit au petit Karl.
Henry
Les mains calleuses enduites de cambouis, les yeux gris clair brillaient de satisfaction. Henry s’essuya les paluches sur son froc, cracha au sol, le glaviot ricocha dans la poussière. Le carburateur de la Husqvarna CR250 tournait.
— Passes-moi la clé de onze, qu’il dit en direction du petit Karl.
Le gamin fouilla dans la caisse à outil, sortit la douze, la huit, la seize et enfin la onze. Le môme tendit la clé. Derrière la palissade de bois vermoulu passait un couple de trentenaire à vélos électriques, Henry les suivi du regard jusqu’à ce qu’ils disparaissent derrière la rangée de bouleaux.
— Bourgeois de merde ! Vides de sens, vides de substance, résignés dans votre putain de médiocrité !
Henry savait être philosophe. Il attrapa le tube de Liqui Moly, en dégorgea deux noisettes de pâte sur un vieux chiffon qu’il étala et remit au petit Karl. Le visage du gamin s’éclaira, il connaissait la procédure et se mit au boulot aussi sec. Henry se leva, fixa l’horizon, le ciel s’assombrissait. D’un geste de la main il arrangea une mèche de cheveux gras derrière son oreille, d’un coup de clé à molette décapsula la Berliner Pils tiède qu’il venait de sortir de sa poche arrière. Il faisait lourd en cette fin d’après-midi, lourd comme il peut le faire en été dans la plaine continentale de Prusse. Sur la petite radio portable le bulletin météo annonçait des orages avec vents violents, risque de grêle et d’inondations. Tandis que le speaker invitait les Berlinois à reste au sec, Henry descendit sa bière de trois grandes gorgées et refréna un relent d’écume de houblon. Le petit Karl briquait consciencieusement le réservoir orange de la moto-cross.
Christian Gfeller in a dangerous conversation with Canadian filmmaker Bruce LaBruce. They are speaking about LaBruce’s recent works and Death Book II.
Those who controlled these units had incredible power over those who had less, who in turn strove to please the powerful even at their own detriment, thus sustaining this pyramidal system of the power of a few…
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away there lived a species of bipedal mammals, for the most part quite sad-looking specimens with a deficient and complex social system constructed around their apparently built-in bellicose and greedy characters. A tiny fraction of them controlled such a vast portion of food and resources that it forced a large portion of the remaining ones to suffer hunger, misery and often death. Of this tiny group, over half were obese and morbidly continuously craving for always more food. Many of them – although the real number is only subject to speculation – would sniff, inhale, inject, lick, swallow all kinds of more or less dangerous poisons in pursuit of minutes of pleasurable escape from their grim hopeless condition – or perhaps it was only out of boredom. But then again, a behaviour usually uncommon among intelligent animals was alarmingly wide-spread: a self-destructive drive that culminated in killing not only members of their own species, even blood relatives, but also themselves. Perhaps it was the result of their rigid and equally calamitous social organisations: one of its cornerstones was the system of exchange they had established, at first a trade of of physical objects, but then replaced by intangible units whose value was fixed by fantastical agreements, a giant calculus on which the well-being of the entire population depended. Those who controlled these units had incredible power over those who had less, who in turn strove to please the powerful even at their own detriment, thus sustaining this pyramidal system of the power of a few… All this while indefatigably all of them went about the business of destroying as much as they could of their surroundings: piercing holes in the skies, spoiling the waters, massacring the weaker species, ruining most green things which they depended on to breathe… fully conscious of the extent of the effects of their cataclysmic wreckage.
Well, I was telling this tale to my soulmate one day, lamenting the lunacy of mankind. Unfazed, she replied cooly:
” Yeah… anyway, one of these days a huge comet will hit Earth and then it’s all over, end of story.”
Good Lord, what clairvoyance! What a relief. Just the thought of it… I would just sit there peacefully, enjoying the spectacle. And then nothing… Since this would be the end of everything, I would not even miss anything after my death. No regrets.
Anyway.
Welcome, sit down, relax and enjoy this first issue of L Y N X.
Lucien Mollusk, 21.12.2012
Codename Anka:
Pauline Masha Constant
‘Dunkle Bitumen’
After strolling through the corridors of the Academy of Fine Arts in Liège during her training in monumental painting, followed by the study of Comics at St Luc in the same city, she left for Brussels to make new experiences. At that point she became active as an event planner in different locations, including the E2 Gallery “Le Sterput”. She became in charge of organizing various types of events, such as exhibitions, concerts, happenings, performances, editions, etc…
From this rich background built through involvement and connections, she aspired to get back to her first discipline, personal and current, the art of illustration. Anka also published a book of Darkam’s illustrations and recorded a very transgressive live performance held as part of the exhibition. Apart from this, we can’t help talking about the artist’s productions for many different collectives and publications such as ‘Gonzine’, ‘Alkom’x’, ‘EpOx et BoTOx éditions’. Also the latest works for the ‘Archives de la Zone Mondiale’ and a punk-rock photography classic ‘Dunkle Bitumen’ are some of Pauline Masha Constant’s remarkable works as a multidisiplinary artist.
For more art and communication:
anka_drawings
> Dunkle Bitumen (2Bongoût)
> Beuys on Sale
Where is the war room?!
We are back with another Bongoût classic, dear readers. This time Zezeah, one of our local Turkish talents, is on the cover with a grotesque drawing and we are really proud of this. As the fanzine cover suggests, the atmosphere is darkly otherworldly; with freehand drawings by Les Sœurs Siamoises and Joost Halbertsma‘s symbolic narrative accompanied by dense, detailed illustrations by Jurictus, Zezeah and Sam Rictus, and all this chaos is balanced by André Lemos’ structural graphic sense.
We were surprised to see the studio, which usually produces works with a rock’n roll spirit, return with a fantastic, grotesque cast straight out of the darkness of Middle-earth. Beside this curatorially, it is a real masterpiece, and we hope you not to miss it.
LÖPÇÜK 