by Volodymyr Pavlov The idea of ​​mutual multiplication of man and mechanism has haunted our minds for more than a hundred years, and for modern music this concept is truly cornerstone. However, for the most part, from Russolo, Shostakovich and Avraamov to Arka’s latest single and “ Body of Carbon ” by Croatian Amor and Varg, the sound idea of ​​a “man-machine” is still limited to the opposition “operator - instrument,” even if the latter is already understood as one’s own body.

Photo from personal archive, a walk to the Spiaggia del Persico beach in the Cinque Terre region in Italy, July 2018 I wrote this essay in May or June 2005 as part of the “Social Anthropology” course at the Faculty of Humanities of Tomsk Polytechnic University. I was 19 then. At that time, I knew nothing about Sartre, Nietzsche, or other thinkers who wrote about similar ideas in their writings.

I Yesterday Syoma did something bad, and from the very morning he was haunted by the smell of his crime. He washed his hands with soap several times and sniffed: his fingers exuded only the aroma of soap. But after some time he again noticed an unpleasant sour smell.

We are publishing the second part of the material about the PinchukArtCentre trade union of mediators. In the first part you can learn about the history and reasons for the creation of the trade union. Here we decided to collect a timeline and key fragments of public communication between the institution and the trade union. The timeline reflects the development of the conflict, the internal processes of the trade union and outbreaks of solidarity with it.

Why do we always get less from the fulfillment of our desires than we expected? One of the most amazing discoveries, which I made, however, not as an actor persistently breaking through to something new, but as someone to whom life presents its lessons without asking whether there is interest in them, is associated with dreams and their implementation.

Alena Petit. Mask, 2020. Created by order of the ROZY House of Culture. Yu-NI-ON: interdisciplinary professional association of cultural workers. If you have a long-awaited Zoom party in a couple of hours, and the DJ has come down with COVID, if you need a translation and criticism of Boyana Kunst’s latest article “Beyond the Time of the Right Care: A Letter to the Performance Artist,” if you need to professionally record sound in an online rehearsal... YOU TO UNION.

Alzbeta Stančakova (born 1992) is a Czech poet, translator from French and English. She made her debut with the poetry and prose collection So What (2014, Czech Co s tím), for which she was awarded the Jiri Orten Literary Prize. She has been published in Czech and foreign magazines and anthologies. She is currently a doctoral student at the Faculty of Philosophy at Masaryk University. We?/Me?/They?/Who?

We only want to draw attention to the activities of the Kuyalnik sanatorium in the rehabilitation of OUR ATO WARRIORS! In 2018, two creative associations “KhZ” (Kiev group “Bread Plant”) and League “Level 14” held, as it later turned out, a prophetic action “Sobranie. Russian black" on the Kuyalnitsky estuary.

It was interesting to make such a review material (not intended to be exhaustive), to analyze and summarize what is happening in society, with people, to look at examples and personal situations. Still, then, in a couple of months, it will be history, but today it will be the current reality. The material looks like an interactive magazine (followed the links, looked at it, then came back).

Related work, better to start with: Ex nihilo Part 1. Daughters and mothers I hurt myself today to see if I still feel //Trent Reznor, Johnny Cash Marina puts on her best dress. Thickly lines the eyes with black, paints the eyelashes and lips. Lips are a must, even though it’s no longer fashionable. Marina does not care about fashion; she is one of those who opposes herself to society. She has her reasons for this. Very good reasons. Music is playing from an old tape recorder.

1 FAMILY ALBUM I was Hamlet. I stood on the shore and talked to the surf BLABLA, behind me ruins of Europe. The bells rang for the state funeral, the murderer and the widow alone Satan, with printed steps walked behind the coffin of a high cadaver, the advice of howling in low-paid sadness. WHOSE CORPSE IS ON THE CORPSE TRUCK / WHO IS SO MUCH ABOUT? SCREAMING AND MOANING / THE CORPSE OF ONE BIG / GARBAGE GIVER the trellis of the population, the fruit of its state.

An old alarm clock from school pulled me out of the whirlwind of sleep. Out of habit, he rushed out of bed, afraid of falling through again. Ice cold shower, took my breath away. Relax your muscles, try to breathe deeply. An old technique, adopted from the schema monks by the Chekists. Finally, the body is relaxed, breathing is calm. Oatmeal. Tea. Half a cube of pervitin. The arrival is the buzzing of millions of bees, somewhere in the head, now they break out and fill the body.

Every time I cut bread, piercing a steel tip into the crust and then into the flesh, I cannot get rid of the obsessive association. The first time I killed a person. All sorts of secret mechanisms of symbolism, primordial encodings are triggered, that bread is life. Moreover, this symbolism is presented in all its glory. To survive, you have to kill bread. And eat it. This is probably why in many traditions it is forbidden to cut bread with a knife. Just break it with your hands.