BAR

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	<title>BAR </title>
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	<pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 16:38:31 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>_HOME</title>
				
		<link>https://baaaar.com/_HOME</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 23 Sep 2020 05:00:56 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>BAR </dc:creator>

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		<description>&#38;nbsp;&#38;nbsp;Lydia SilvestriBasel Social Club 2026: Office14 - 20 June 2026</description>
		
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		<title>Lydia Silvestri Basel Social Club</title>
				
		<link>https://baaaar.com/Lydia-Silvestri-Basel-Social-Club</link>

		<pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 16:38:31 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>BAR </dc:creator>

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		<title>Vibrant Tracks</title>
				
		<link>https://baaaar.com/Vibrant-Tracks</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 05 Nov 2025 17:17:08 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>BAR </dc:creator>

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(EN)The exhibition puts together artworks by Victoria Colmegna, Marietta Mavrokordatou and Marco Pio Mucci. It results a composition of images that come from memories -lived, sensed - or visions, as visual distortions. Through time, memories leave a trace, a feeling, and sometimes turn into something unexpected. 
In Victoria Colmegna’s watercolour three pregnant girls are playing tarot cards in a Jacuzzi, their identities being just outlined. They look identical - a triplet staged in a surreal scene as if it comes from a psychedelic trip in an altered state of consciousness. A year ago Marietta Mavrokordatou shot some photos on a bus ride in London, looking through the wet windows. She records the flashes of the city through a folded TFL ticket, stuck in the moment like she says. From the repetition of the images comes the sense of movement. 
Marco Pio Mucci starts to paint a specific subject and doesn’t leave it, it comes from personal souvenirs. Games rooms are the places where long nights out with friends are spent in a suspended time, absorbed in a scheme of strategies.  
(IT)La mostra mette in relazione opere di Victoria Colmegna, Marietta Mavrokordatou e Marco Pio Mucci. Le immagini che le opere riflettono arrivano da ricordi, vissuti, percepiti - o da visioni, intese come alterazioni visive. Con il passare del tempo, i ricordi lasciano una traccia, una sensazione o un sentimento e talvolta si trasformano in qualcosa di inaspettato. 
Nell’opera di Victoria Colmegna tre ragazze con il pancione leggono i tarocchi in una vasca idromassaggio. Dipinti ad acquarello, i visi sono appena accennati, lasciando le loro identità anonime. Sembrano identiche - gemelle ritratte in una scena surreale, l’allucinazione di un viaggio psichedelico.
Un anno fa Marietta Mavrokordatou ha scattato delle foto durante un viaggio in autobus a Londra, guardando dai finestrini bagnati. L’artista cattura le luci della città attraverso un biglietto piegato, ‘stuck in the moment’ come ci ha detto lei. Grazie alla ripetizione delle immagini arriva la sensazione di movimento.
Marco Pio Mucci dipinge sistematicamente un soggetto e non lo lascia più, spesso questo soggetto viene dai suoi ricordi. Le sale giochi sono luoghi in cui sono state trascorse lunghe serate con gli amici in un tempo sospeso, assorti in uno schema di strategie di gioco. 


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		<title>Brad Kronz</title>
				
		<link>https://baaaar.com/Brad-Kronz</link>

		<pubDate>Mon, 28 Oct 2024 17:39:02 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>BAR </dc:creator>

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There are different types of effort that can be applied when making a drawing, or in any artistic medium. Maybe most elemental, broadly speaking, would be to draw something real or imagined without any object of direct observation, preferably without any expected outcome. If you are seeking to represent an actual thing that you are observing, you can try to detect and visually interpret its supposed inner reality. Or you can just copy exactly what you see to the best of your ability. When you copy something and learn it (or “cover” it in music), you sacrifice your relationship with the original article as an object of pleasure through the act of attention. It then becomes like any other used thing, even if at its essence it was and is unknowable to you. In this way a copy contains both a sacrifice and a diversion from reality. Text by Brad Kronz


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		<title>Operette</title>
				
		<link>https://baaaar.com/Operette</link>

		<pubDate>Tue, 24 Sep 2024 17:37:33 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>BAR </dc:creator>

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(EN) We first encountered these ‘operette’ one Summer morning.  
The light filtered dimly through the roller shutters, revealing some figures placed side by side, shy and unconscious witnesses to the passing of time. 
From afar the traffic moved quickly on the so called ‘sopraelevata’. 
The presence of the Matitone with its octagonal shape was reassuring.
The archive is an organism.
It is shaped by the careful accumulation and exasperated purchase of objects, the most varied: samples, small bottles, boxes and tableware placed on the shelves in a scattered, bizarre order. And from the constant need to produce works together with artists and to realise ambitious, prickly projects. 
(IT) Abbiamo incontrato per la prima volta queste operette una mattina di estate.  
La luce filtrava fioca dalle tapparelle dello studio, lasciando intravedere delle forme poste una accanto all’altra, testimoni riservati e incoscienti dello scorrere del tempo. 
In lontananza scorreva il traffico veloce sulla sopraelevata. 
La presenza del Matitone con la sua forma ottagonale era rassicurante.
L’archivio è un organismo.
Si è formato dall’accumulo attento e dall’acquisto esasperato di oggetti, i più svariati: campioni, bottigliette, scatoline e servizi da tavola riposti sugli scaffali in un ordine sparso, bizzarro. E dalla costante necessità di produrre opere insieme agli artisti e di realizzare progetti ambiziosi, pungenti. 


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		<title>Sara Ravelli, Ouch!</title>
				
		<link>https://baaaar.com/Sara-Ravelli-Ouch</link>

		<pubDate>Sat, 04 May 2024 12:43:21 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>BAR </dc:creator>

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"The hand, a home, OUCH!(Repeat)"
ouch ouch ouch stop it everything agony suffering humiliation oh 
poor darling what will be of you what will be of everything you loved
cherished adored cared preserved nothing nothing nothing it willall come to naught like nothing were the ambitions while all around
look how many of them built produced completed how many of them honored this marvelous gift of life and yes just marvelous but maybe for others ouch ouch ouch please stop it what did I do that’s so bad to
deserve all this impossibility to access cosmic amusement impossibilityto access the ritual of elevation impossibility to rule over boredom oh  all these inabilities are a real hassle a true hassle like all these boogers
I cannot take out of my nose I suppose I will mould the world out of them the china on the cupboard is looking at me unmoved that doesn’t help at all and no of course it cannot be done by sheperds or ponies orteddy bears my dusty accomplices in this little punishment mitigatedby reassuring promises oh poor darling we will have our vengeancedespite my emotional hypersensitivity my shyness my lonelinessvenom to my little compromised damaged spirit like wasp venom do you remember it used to get so swollen when they stung me ouch ouch ouch please stop

"The messy friend"
They’re gone. I will miss their bodies, their bodies completed mine
Made me whole.
Will my absence still be a presence, will they notice?
What will remain of this split, if not the memory of a marginality that
appropriated familiar places only?
The door was not closed properly, a forgivable oversight. The last
light of day enters the dim light of the room. Really tiny particles
of dust dance suspended and suspicious, certainly embellished,
certainly magnified by the golden reflection of dusk. Every mark on
this wooden floor is a hieroglyphic sign for a dream. Everything is so
beautiful and final, my extremities touch yours,
my silence obtains the approval of your silence, my heart is the
representation of plenitude.

"Why me?"
—	What are you doing here?
—	What you are doing
—	Let’s wait
—	Let’s wait, yes
—	Patiently
—	Wait, weren’t there six of us?
—	The other three have already left
—	Departed
—	Set sail
—	Someone must have simply selected them
—	It can’t be worse than this
—	That’s all you can hope for
—	We are suffering
—	Exhausted
—	All rumpled
—	In sadness we falter
—	Let’s dance
—	Let’s plan
—	It happened eventually
—	What?
—	Experience
—	What experience?
—	The experience of
—	But why did he stop?
—	He’s delirious
—	Has it always been like that?
—	Yes
—	Of surviving against evidence
—	What evidence?
—	That living was reckless
—	Reckless?
—	He’s just fucking nuts
—	Even vulgar
—	Even brazen
—	What held us up turned out to be nothing
—	Passions have not made us immortal
—	Desolation is our milieu
—	All this anxiety
—	It’s never left
—	It’s always remained unchanged
—	Hereditary
—	Tribal
—	Even now
—	Now, too
—	Exceptionally now
—	The afflictions
—	Our pride
—	Our medals
—	Our poetry
—   Will he ever leave?
—	What?
—	You can hear murmurs
—	Something is swinging
—	Something is trembling
—	Maybe our moment has come
—	Our moment will never come
—	Maybe we’ve never even had moments
—	Never
—	Never
—	Never

Text by: Mattia Agnelli
Translation by: Chiara Spagnol

 
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		<title>Gonna get you, Gonna get you</title>
				
		<link>https://baaaar.com/Gonna-get-you-Gonna-get-you</link>

		<pubDate>Sun, 29 Oct 2023 10:33:18 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>BAR </dc:creator>

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		<description>


Hilary Lloyd
The Lost Records, 2022
single channel video
dimensions variable
edition 1/3 + 1 AP

Hilary Lloyd
The Record Player, 2022
single channel video
dimensions variable
edition 1/3 + 1 AP

Sidsel Meineche Hansen
Hook 3, 2023
steel, forged, 21 x 18.5 x 0.6 cm
unique

Sara Ravelli
Allegro ma non troppo, 2023
iron, paper tissues, chenille, faux leather, nylon, pvc
40 x 120 x 40 cm

Sidsel Meineche Hansen
Mellow smile, 2021
wax cast in bronze
10 x 2 x 2 cm
edition 3/3 + 2AP

Lydia Silvestri
Polena, 1989-1990
magma
15,5 x 9 x 18 cm


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		<title>Lydia Silvestri, studi per vetri, poi sogni</title>
				
		<link>https://baaaar.com/Lydia-Silvestri-studi-per-vetri-poi-sogni</link>

		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Nov 2022 14:19:36 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>BAR </dc:creator>

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The Implications of Glassby Allison Grimaldi Donahuefor Lydia SilvestriThe goat was called ‘Motin,’ she didn’t have horns, she smelled like ferns, she had golden eyes and she licked my hands.Hands to reveal identity and hands to conceal ita rapid touch a thwacking smack a brush with tendernesshands to do the touching and be touchedactive and passive reaching and reached foron a reiki bed or a bed of coals set ablaze for traditionwiping them on dungarees slathering oil and adding herbshands to cure hands to kill hands to break and hands to bondlooking for a diadem I found thesethese spheres and baubles oflibidinal excesstongue tip to nipple roundthere is a point that is no pointin the womb shapes become formstake to wood take to glassevery protuberance leads to something elseyes, something else protrudingbe it fear or idleness or the risk ofinopportune loveNeed and boredombeing the only true real reasons to do anything at alltake up new materials, feel in the darknessswap this for that and that for thissaint Simon says and so shall followgnawing on a pencil orality takes centerall emotion through hand moves to mouth back up to eyeto look at the plan is to thus imagine the executionshould it occur or not occurshould it unfold or remain foldedsecretly they tell you which colors to usesecretly you know the human body contains them allwhen green takes over fleshwhen an unexpected transparency becomesopaque in the waitingtime takes its time to tellUsed ThingsThings tire like gestures,slow. to buy something and use itis a gesture, like a breath.used things are like breathed breaths,they are consumed, they cannotbe used a second time. they are thingsthat have happened, and that which has happened, beautifulor ugly as it is, doesn’t change doesn’t repeat.Used things get bought again,they are breathed againwrapped up again in cellophane;aren’t washed, like a breath isn’t washed,after the first use they loseopacityand don’t get old or die, but simply,they are used.—Carlo BordiniQuestion: And the most tiring thing?Response: Being tired of being tired, a price known only by those who pay it. The mountains tocarry up mountains: Sisyphus!The eternal: ‘I’m coming too’ ‘No, not you!’
Monstrous physical effort.
Doors in your face and dozens of fattened toads.
The tiredness that makes you ugly like a beast, sordid, unjust: lying down on the ground like a hunted, exhausted animal.
But not being able to do without it.
Look, this is sculpture for a woman doing sculpture.it is the work that grants the vision
never the other way around
the hand not moving will see nothing
the hand moving the pen
to paper allows the light innewness as a male obsession and so one asks
‘what’s better than newness?’ and it’s love over and over
to fall in love to make work to then love that work borne of love
and the power and the agency gained from love
to be grateful to fall in love over and over again
and a blond Irish poet Patrick, who I was in love with.I think in part that I owe it [pleasure in using my hands] to my mountain upbringing: weavingbaskets, whittling bowls and clogs out of wood, kitchen utensils, seeing a wall grow stone by stonechosen out of a heap of stones with a careful eye, and silkworms constructing perfect cocoons ofgold, making vats for wine, repairing a doll’s arm or the hoof of a calf, always, it was everythingwith the hands and an essentialness of movements, of behaviors and of logic.sitting on the bench eating apples and yogurt and watching the sun come up and then down
promises were made and kept, just in ways few people imagined
when I think of you looking at me it becomes less and less certain what it is you see
it began as a game: lay your full weight on me, empty me of this air
it ended as a game, bruised and sordidYou who are about to read these wanton games of disheveled song,see aside the disdain appropriate to a man of Latium.
It is not Phoebus Apollo’s sister Diana who inhabits this shrine, nor is it Vesta,
nor the goddess born from the head of her father Minerva, 
but the ruddy guardian of gardens, better endowed than normal, 
whose loins are not covered up by any clothing.
Therefore, either pull the tunic over the part that must be covered, 
or read these lines with the same eyes you use to gaze at this cock. (Carmina Priapea 1)Always an amazement how these same eyes have been here and there and thereand there—should the mind be unveiled in all its dissonance, 
could we still speak? Speaking here is not the goal, no. 
Presence is found in the listening.In the Alps
Where goes this wandering blue,
This horizon that covers us without a murmur?
Let old lands speak their speech,
Let tarnished canopies protect us.

Where after the wars, the peaceable lions,
The forests resting from their struggle,
The streams with loads upon their icy backs,
Is this a reason for happiness,
That one speaks after such a long time,
That the hand one holds leads one far away?

Is this a fairy tale then?
This new-discovered place where one can dream
Of tigers with fair hair and houses whose hearths
Are tended by knights lingering there?

Riding down to Venice on borrowed horses
The air is freed of our crimes,
Lovers meet in the inns of our fathers
And everywhere after dusk the day follows.— Barbara Guest

I love friendship.
I love cooking. 
I love cards.
I read mysteries, Poetry, the Lives of the Saints and Magic.
The most beautiful compliment received: from a little boy called Tommaso ‘Dad says you’re awitch, but it isn’t true, I swear, you’re magic!’ *All text in italics comes from an interview with Lydia Silvestri conducted for a 1985-1986 academic year thesis at Accademia di Belle Arti Brera.

Allison Grimaldi Donahue  is a poet, artist and translator. Her work appears in print and performance. She lives in Bologna.
Lydia Silvestri  (1929, Chiuro - 2018, Colico) is an Italian sculptor. She studied at the Brera Academy of Fine Arts with Marino Marini.
Fascinated since childhood by mythology and plastic forms, this passion has accompanied her throughout her artistic career. Silvestri's work is characterized by a constant search for form and materials: abstract forms, anatomical details, and intertwined figures in constant erotic tension arise from the combination of stone and marble, bronze and wood, semigress and terracotta, as well as from innovative materials, compounds of inert and palatal resins (magma) and compounds of inert and epoxy resins (lapis). 
Between 1969 and 1970 the artist worked on a series of Murano glass sculptures that will later be presented at Galleria del Naviglio in Milan in 1971. They are called 'Dreams' because of 'the presumed unreality of the material, elusive, fiery one moment and then icy, mobile, non-palpable, impregnable.' 
In her career Silvestri was included in major exhibitions such as the Venice Biennale in 1956 and 1966, La Quadriennale di Roma in 1956. Solo exhibitions were held in private galleries in Italy and abroad, among others, at the Galleria del Naviglio, Milan, 1971 and Grosvenor Gallery, London, 1964. In 1999, 'Arianna e il Minotauro' a major public project was presented at Giardini Pubblici of Parco Palestro, Milan.
She has also worked, often joined by architects, for public and private commissions, including: the Church of Santa Maria Immacolata (Francavilla, Italy), the Imperial Hotel (Tokyo), the Hyatt Hotel (Singapore), the Hilton Hotel (Hong Kong), the Cathay Pacific Area Company (Hong Kong) and the Sheraton Hotel (Damascus).
Her work was recently presented at La Quadriennale in Rome in 2020.
The exhibition was made possible thanks to the collaboration with the Fondazione Lydia Silvestri.


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	<item>
		<title>Constantin Nitsche, Two Peonies</title>
				
		<link>https://baaaar.com/Constantin-Nitsche-Two-Peonies</link>

		<pubDate>Sat, 28 May 2022 12:51:35 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>BAR </dc:creator>

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(EN) The exhibition is shaped around characters’ figures absorbed in mundane activities. The atmosphere is rarefied.
Certain details on the canvases first arise in abstract form in notes that the artist keeps and which, at the right moment, become part of the composition of the work. A fireplace, a staircase, a red head- dress, two peonies. This last subject gives the exhibition its title. Some of the subjects portrayed appear inside stages made of juxtaposed elements in shaded colours, graphic, abstract, but also extremely detailed figurative signs such as the terracotta-coloured cement floor, the purple flowers of a lavender field. Nitsche’s practice takes place in the studio, slowly, with applications of colour, erasures and retouches that are repeated over time and in some cases completely change the work, transforming it. Constantin Nitsche (1987, Germany) lives and works in Marseille. He studied painting at the Kunstakademie Düsseldorf. Selected solo and group exhibitions include VIOLETTE, O-Town House, Los Angeles (2021); Everything is Personal, TRAMPS, New York (2020); Untitled, Parkhaus im Malkastenpark, Düsseldorf (2019); Salon des Amateurs, TRAMPS, London (2018). (IT) La mostra prende forma attorno alle figure di personaggi assorti in attività banali. L’atmosfera che si respira è rarefatta. Alcuni dettagli presenti sulle tele nascono dapprima sotto forma astratta in appunti che l’artista conserva e che al momento giusto entrano a far parte della composizione dell’opera. Un camino, una scala, un copricapo rosso, due peonie. Quest’ultimo soggetto dà il titolo alla mostra. Gli ambienti dentro ai quali alcuni soggetti sono ritratti appaiono come palcoscenici fatti di partico- lari giustapposti dai colori sfumati, di segni grafici, astratti, ma anche figurativi estremamente det- tagliati come il pavimento di cementine color terracotta, i fiori violacei di un campo di lavanda. La pratica dei Nitsche si svolge in studio, lenta, con continue e ripetute applicazioni di colore, cancel- lature e ritocchi e che in alcuni casi cambiano completamente l’opera, trasformandola. Constantin Nitsche (1987, Germania) vive e lavora a Marsiglia. Ha studiato Pittura alla Kunstakademie Düsseldorf. Tra le mostre personali e collettive figurano VIOLETTE, O-Town House, Los Angeles (2021); Everything is Personal, TRAMPS, New York (2020); Untitled, Parkhaus im Malkastenpark, Düsseldorf (2019); Salon des Amateurs, TRAMPS, Londra (2018).


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		<title>Yalda Afsah, Centaur</title>
				
		<link>https://baaaar.com/Yalda-Afsah-Centaur</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 23 Mar 2022 08:31:04 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>BAR </dc:creator>

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(EN) 
BAR is pleased to present Centaur (2020) by Yalda Afsah, a German-Iranian artist and filmmaker
who works with video and moving image.
The work is a cinematic portrait of the symbiotic relationship between man and animal in the
practice of dressage training.
The naturalness of the man’s gestures contrasts with the artificiality of the poses and figures that the
animal is forced to assume. The sound is at times disunited and disconnected from the images,
creating an additional narrative level. The result is a hypnotic ritual made up of movements and
sculptural forms, a dance made up of rhythmic elements, gestures and steps.
As Linnéa Bake explains in her text on the artist’s work “by focusing on the different encounters
between man and animal, Yalda Afsah’s practice continuously explores the possibilities of
cinematically constructing filmic space. At the same time, the documentary character of her films
fluidly transitions into forms of theatricality.”
In Afsah’s reflection emerges clearly the juxtaposition between control, discipline and submission that humans impose
on animals and the care and identification with them.
YALDA AFSAH (1983) lives and works in Berlin.
She participated in "Traits d’union.s", Manifesta13, Marseille (2020) and screenings of her work were
presented at "Locarno Shorts Weeks", Locarno Film Festival, Locarno (2020); "FRAMES OF
REPRESENTATION", Institute of Contemporary Arts ICA, London (2019).
She’s currently having a solo exhibition "Every word was once an animal" at Kunstverein München, Munich. 
(IT) BAR è felice di presentare Centaur (2020) di Yalda Afsah, artista e film maker tedesco-iraniana che
lavora con il video e l’immagine in movimento.
Il lavoro consiste in un ritratto cinematografico del rapporto simbiotico che si instaura tra uomo e
animale nella pratica di addestramento di dressage.
La naturalezza dei gesti dell’uomo si contrappone all’artificiosità delle pose e delle figure che
l’animale è costretto ad assumere. Il suono a tratti è disunito, scollegato dalle immagini creando un
ulteriore livello narrativo. Ne risulta un rituale ipnotico fatto di movimenti e forme scultoree, una
danza fatta di elementi ritmici, di gesti, di passi.
Come Linnéa Bake spiega nel suo testo sul lavoro dell’artista “concentrandosi sui diversi incontri
tra uomo e animale, la pratica di Yalda Afsah esplora continuamente le possibilità di costruire
cinematograficamente lo spazio filmico. Allo stesso tempo, il carattere documentario dei suoi film
passa fluidamente a forme di teatralità.”
Nella riflessione di Afsah emerge chiara la giustapposizione tra controllo, disciplina e sottomissione
che l’uomo impone all’animale e la cura e l’identificazione nei suoi confronti.
YALDA AFSAH (1983) vive e lavora a Berlino.
Ha partecipato a "Traits d’union.s", Manifesta13, Marsiglia (2020) e screening del suo lavoro sono
stati presentati a "Locarno Shorts Weeks", Locarno Film Festival, Locarno (2020); "FRAMES OF
REPRESENTATION", Institute of Contemporary Arts ICA, Londra (2019). È al momento in corso la
mostra personale "Every word was once an animal" alla Kunstverein München, Monaco.


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