| and you unrelentingly ask for the secret | levin stettler brogli + xleepyfay | potluck02
I am interested in so called belief systems, their
everlasting appeal and the delusions they cause.
Through creating my own myths, I do not just
inspect these mechanisms from the outside,
but immerse myself completly in my practice
and become a faithful disciple of my own
elightenments and delusions.
In the traditon of sourcerers and alchemists
summoning dubious creatures as helping hands,
deviant entities and outcasted demonic figures,
both playful and heinous, lurk in every corner of
my work, luring in the viewers.
Escapism plays a big part in my practice: My large
scale installations are not only used as stage sets
for my occult performances but also as portals
that suck my audience into magical realms.
The idea of magic is so appealing to me because
unlike religion, it is a self-determined form of
spirituality; we don't have to call upon the divine,
it is inside and around us and can be bent to our
I am convinced that through performing rituals,
we bring fantastical stories to life which can help
us overcome our preconceived illusion that makes
us believe we are merely bystanders of a definite
reality that is not to be altered.
When we are confronted with the mystical, the
occult or however we call what is hidden, we start
questioning what we thought of as absolute and
find a multitude of truths. That is where I believe
the magic is manifested.
So it is cut. Falling down to the earth, sinking like a seed into soil.
And as time passes, indifferent as ever, the flesh is starting to grow into a mortal being.
Of limbs to carry around.
Bones to be broken and put back together.
Feet to stand on and to be adored.
Hands to be held.
Toes and genitals to be sucked on.
Fingers to point at others.
A mouth to be fed and point out the mistakes of others.
A nose to sniff around with.
A belly to ache, growl and to be filled.
Eyes to stare into the sun.
An ass to be ate from.
A heart to be adored and feasted upon.
And a mind to be questioned.
As the being grows conscious of its mortal fate it cries:
You gave me the most magnificent thing, but what is the use if it is not forever?
Why must I vanish?
Am I nothing more than body and mind?
Just like the colors of a rainbow are nothing but water and light?
And even though the sun, indifferent as ever, does not bother to answer, the being, unrelenting as ever, takes
on the task of listening harder. As it tries to enhance its hearing, stretching its ear by pulling the lobe,
it were as if the winds whispered:
Take your sharpest knife to make a cut.
Not one that just splits into two, but one that frees everything that lies in between.
Only then will you realise that there is no inside and out. That everything that is in, is also outside
and everything that is out, is also inside.
Fear not to crack the egg of the universe and birth the baby!
All you have to do is - make the cut.
˙ʇou op ɹO
˙ɯopsᴉʍ ɥʇᴉʍ plᴉɥɔ ǝɥʇ ǝɹnʇɹnN
˙plᴉɥɔ ɹnoʎ ǝɹǝʍ ʇᴉ ɟᴉ sɐ ƃuᴉǝq ǝɥʇ ǝsᴉɐɹ
˙ƃuᴉǝq lɐʇɹoɯ ɐ oʇuᴉ ʍoɹƃ ǝqol ǝɥʇ ʇǝ˥
˙ɹǝʇɐʍ ʍollᴉʍ ɟo sdoɹp uǝʌǝs pp∀
˙ʎǝuoɥ ɥʇᴉʍ ǝqol ǝɥʇ ǝɹnʇɹnN
˙ƃƃǝ ssɐlƃ ɐ oʇuᴉ ǝqol ǝɥʇ ǝɔɐlԀ
˙llǝds ɐ ʇsɐƆ
˙ɹǝʇɐʍ pǝllᴉʇsᴉp ɥʇᴉʍ ʇᴉ ǝsuᴉɹ puɐ ǝqol ǝɥʇ ʇɔǝlloƆ
˙lɐǝɥ punoʍ ǝɥʇ ʇǝ˥
˙uoᴉʇnlos uᴉlɐɯɹoɟ ʇuǝɔɹǝd uǝʇ uᴉ ǝqol ǝɥʇ ǝƃɹǝɯqnS
˙uoᴉʇnlos uᴉlɐɯɹoɟ ʇuǝɔɹǝd uǝʇ ɥʇᴉʍ ʇᴉ ǝsnɟuᴉ oʇ ǝƃuᴉɹʎs ɐ ǝs∩
˙ɹǝʇɐʍ pǝllᴉʇsᴉp ɥʇᴉʍ ǝqol pǝɹǝʌǝs ǝɥʇ ǝsuᴉɹ
˙ƃuᴉpǝǝlq ǝɥʇ doʇs oʇ pǝsolɔ punoʍ ǝɥʇ ʍǝS
˙uǝǝʍʇǝq uᴉ sᴉ ʇɐɥʍ ʇno ʇǝ˥
˙ǝqol ɹnoʎ ɹǝʌǝs ǝpɐlq pǝʌɹnɔ ɐ ɥʇᴉM
˙uᴉʞs ɟo ɹǝʎɐl ɥsǝɹɟ ɐ ʎq pǝɹǝʌoɔ sᴉ ʞɹɐɯ ǝɥʇ llᴉʇun lɐǝɥ punoʍ ǝɥʇ ʇǝ˥
˙ʞuᴉ ɥʇᴉʍ ʇǝʍ ǝlpǝǝu ɐ ɥʇᴉʍ ǝqolɹɐǝ ɹnoʎ ɟo uᴉʞs ǝɥʇ ǝʇɐɹʇǝuǝd ʎlʇuǝפ
˙llǝds ɐ ʇsɐƆ