From May until October last year, E2 ran the show at Recyclart’s Vitrine 5, resulting in an exhilarating overdose of brutal graphics and auditory terror. The collective is now organising a sequel to that half-year of experimentation with an exhibition and a “coffret” as a tribute to the DIY spirit that is the engine of the whole motley crew.
TREASURE | Coffret E2 001 ●●●
E2€25 (at the exhibition)/30, www.galerie-e2.org
Freedom is our greatest good. But it is a good that we are often too happy to throw to the wind for a little honour, glory, and a few dollars more. The path that E2 paved with their own hands straight from the underground to the surface is therefore worthy of praise. Last year, the collective spent six months at Recyclart digging up one perverse gem after another from the DIY and self-publishing scene, and did so with such an uncompromising, original, and brutal attitude towards the reductionist maelstrom of the world aboveground that culture’s insatiable underbelly couldn’t resist a follow-up. The publication with which E2 are taking their first steps to their new start – thank your heathen gods for that! – and paying tribute to their DIY roots, is nothing less than a Happy Meal for the gluttonous of mind, who enjoy devouring their junk food violently, but also with great taste and refinement.
Coffret E² 001: there's treasure everywhere
(© Laurent Impeduglia)
In the first “coffret” from E2 (a limited edition of 100) you will not only find a tried and tested assault on your ears, an auditory cluster bomb on two cassettes (!) on which the likes of Attic Ted, Osica, Guili Guili Goulag, Epic Schmetterling, and Shetahr articulate their intimate thoughts (e.g. “Look at Me” or “As a Creator I Bet You Did Create Disease”), and furnish them with demented tunes. Also the graphic heroes who made Recyclart’s subterranean foundations shake for six months manifest their immortality in an immaculate edition – for which much gratitude goes to the crew at L’appât who put the thing through their silkscreen press and who are also housing the accompanying exhibition.
In the first “coffret” from E2 (a limited edition of 100) you will not only find a tried and tested assault on your ears, an auditory cluster bomb on two cassettes (!) on which the likes of Attic Ted, Osica, Guili Guili Goulag, Epic Schmetterling, and Shetahr articulate their intimate thoughts (e.g. “Look at Me” or “As a Creator I Bet You Did Create Disease”), and furnish them with demented tunes. Also the graphic heroes who made Recyclart’s subterranean foundations shake for six months manifest their immortality in an immaculate edition – for which much gratitude goes to the crew at L’appât who put the thing through their silkscreen press and who are also housing the accompanying exhibition.
(© Anne Van Der Linden)
And immortality does not come cheap, you’re sure to find out. Sylvain Bureau, for example, points to our tendency to pigeon-hole: we live in cubes, breed chickens in batteries, and send our children to sit at carefully lined-up school desks, while we take our cows to be “connes” and consume our culture in snippets between advertising breaks. “Normal?” he wonders... No, but it is what it is, and not otherwise. Laurent Impeduglia also deftly prunes the tree of life, that increasingly barren little patch of nature that remains between the houses, churches, and factories. On the other hand, wonder-fiston FSTN shares his little pot of Nivea Visage with you all, though the question remains of whether it is any benefit to your face whatsoever. Also participating in the danse macabre of the living dead are Sarah Fisthole and Benjamin Monti who say it with flowers; Dawamesk with yet another staggering autopsy; Pakito Bolino with a set of inimitable chiselled heads; Elzo Durt with peerless psychedelic icons; Mathieu Desjardins with a snapshot of hell; and the incomparable Anne Van Der Linden who with her eyes wide shut plunges into the shit creek we call home. Combined with the writhing human ruins by Charlotte Cochelin, Caroline Sury, Samantha Chope, Céline Le Gouail, Valfret, Céline Guichard, this is all work by small gods with great sensitivity to the sadness of everything and the painful pleasure concealed in nothingness. The world is a place of depravity, a pool of sickening filth, but there’s treasure everywhere. Better put on those disposable gloves and start digging up those gems, folks!
Expo: 6/2 > 1/3, w-e 14 > 18.00, L’Appât, lappatelier.com
And immortality does not come cheap, you’re sure to find out. Sylvain Bureau, for example, points to our tendency to pigeon-hole: we live in cubes, breed chickens in batteries, and send our children to sit at carefully lined-up school desks, while we take our cows to be “connes” and consume our culture in snippets between advertising breaks. “Normal?” he wonders... No, but it is what it is, and not otherwise. Laurent Impeduglia also deftly prunes the tree of life, that increasingly barren little patch of nature that remains between the houses, churches, and factories. On the other hand, wonder-fiston FSTN shares his little pot of Nivea Visage with you all, though the question remains of whether it is any benefit to your face whatsoever. Also participating in the danse macabre of the living dead are Sarah Fisthole and Benjamin Monti who say it with flowers; Dawamesk with yet another staggering autopsy; Pakito Bolino with a set of inimitable chiselled heads; Elzo Durt with peerless psychedelic icons; Mathieu Desjardins with a snapshot of hell; and the incomparable Anne Van Der Linden who with her eyes wide shut plunges into the shit creek we call home. Combined with the writhing human ruins by Charlotte Cochelin, Caroline Sury, Samantha Chope, Céline Le Gouail, Valfret, Céline Guichard, this is all work by small gods with great sensitivity to the sadness of everything and the painful pleasure concealed in nothingness. The world is a place of depravity, a pool of sickening filth, but there’s treasure everywhere. Better put on those disposable gloves and start digging up those gems, folks!
Expo: 6/2 > 1/3, w-e 14 > 18.00, L’Appât, lappatelier.com
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