Underskog

Friday 1: 19.00 ∞
Saturday 2: 19.00 – 22.00.
Sunday 3: 13.00 – 16.00.

4235. Skippergata 20. 9008 Tromsø / Norway

fundacionstraubinger.org
space4235.com

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To exhume the truth buried beneath the rubbles of the evidence, to assemble evidently the singular and the general, to fix the particular in
the great process, this is the art of the realists.
B. B.

The child, on trying to take the moon, learns to catch.
W. B.

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[…] SF […]

Early nineteenth century. The Straubinger are workers, craftsmen, artisans, emigrants, german. They receive the good new one, the gospel of the communism. The theory circulates in the workshops, in small trades, in taverns, is in the air, comrade, several days the wind change of air. Catch the fly, make it yours, embody. “Eaters of ideas” that worry Marx and Engels, because the fulfillment of the communist ideal depends on a future fact: the Revolution.

And at the moment, they are already communist, even before the coming of the proletarian revolution. Straubingers don’t wait, the Utopia is solved in themselves: the possibility of a society, with justice, egalitarian, fraternal, in which they will not be exploited again by others but they will be free to decide what to do with their lives, free for happiness.

Carrying the theory, the Straubingers already live for an Idea, and in an Idea. And they cannot stop spreading it, full of joy, applause, applause-life is our cause. They travel to far lands (to the north of the north: raw fish, ice deserts, slanted eyes) to transmit this good new, this way of life that they exemplify, breathe, speak, think. The path of emancipation: communism.

First years of the 21st century. As children escaped from school who wander until they feel the sadness of his absurd freedom. Conditional freedom: free time that does not steady itself at all but in relation to a slave time (of the salary work, of the leisure, of the fashion, of the stupidity), to a time without truth. Because still he has not found his space. Now we know that this space is not anywhere. It is necessary to be founded.

The Straubinger Foundation is a point of view, a place from which have a look at the world and to the people who is moving and going on, that tries to start something. A way of approaching other experiences, of doing a work with them, and spreading them.

// Madrid, December 2008 //

The SF feels an uncontrollable inclination and a fatal passion for everything in the city that flees, fights, denies, hides, travels, glides, limps, slips or crawl. Far from any narrowness, his art is at the service of this passion, and want to shape and propagate and spread it as well.

// Elx, Summer 2009 //

We don’t know who we are. We have tried to move on, to move on the way, but it has not been easy. Sometimes we start to doubt about our own existence, and even now it is not clear that there is someone behind this words.

But there are fights, we don’t have doubt with this. There are individuals, people who rise up. This is a fact, an irreducible fact. These images testify to this fact.. We try to consist and compose us with them, find the order, the form, the combination, the color: actuality of history, stories of actuality.

The relation between images is the same as the relation between things. However there is something on them that not crystalize, in the middle of the real beauty of meetings, that brings to that time, this kind of acrimony. And is there where we are.

// Madrid, April 2010 //

When language starts to say “him” or “her” or “we”, even in the realms of poetry, suddenly voices got over. When friends from the north called the call, no voice were found. Unattainable convergence. This present can be a history of friendship, but this will be a lie or a shame or both. Or the best at least. But there is, like with everything, a story. Thousand volcanoes rising up. This can be the story. In fact this was the image then. The movement we aspected. Even now. But we never caught the magma movement although new free spirits have born downtowns. Our story turns in green. No red. No black. Green. When men maintain a free and just relationship with their surroundings, thousand borealis will shine all over the world. This could be the convergence. A truly real present for SF. Waiting for the anti-world. Early nineteenth century… And at the moment, here is the unfound exclamation, our lonely exclamation, although we, or you, are not here to listen to it.

// Madrid, March 2011 //