We are the mouths of history. We reproduce the reproduced. Necessity is a choice. And a life style can be sold better. From the 1960s to subculture. From attitude to compilation. From Modernism to weirdness. We’re the mouths of history. A touch changes everything living into neat black dice. Chance is the curator here. How many artists fit into one gallery? Have we heard that one? No! We don’t listen and the refrain goes: Bust out! That was a pretty bad song, like the rest of the 90s. But we survived…We’re not only its mouths – we’re also its limbs and members. Objects of chance movements. We beat on the drawer and opt for necessity and, of course, write lines to captivate: So come, we turn to you, at least until the developers drive us one house further away. Fuck You. You can’t hear? It’s a little loud in here.

Here you can express yourself. (*required)