by Travis Jeppesen on December 3, 2014
Christophe Chemin’s new film, The Coat, starring Brian Tennessee Claflin and Susanne Sachsse, with original texts by Travis Jeppesen, will be premiered tomorrow night in Berlin at FSK. More info here.
by Travis Jeppesen on December 3, 2014
“Conditionally You,” an essay on Lee Kit, in the December issue of Art in America. Can also be read online here.
by Travis Jeppesen on December 1, 2014
Nobody even cares about them except for those who care about them: the day that something was supposed to happen, something astral, we’re not sure what. Maybe bumping into someone you barely know and mistaking it for an old friend, yes, these streets do have historico-hystericospectral elements lodged in their stones, and the desire to control one’s self is always specious, I’m sorry to have to announce in this lonely context, where no one is really listening although everyone is alert and ready for the next holiday declaration.
Everything matters, the writing. In the shade, I smell your anguish but would never chase after – I am too superior, there is much to be lost. Me and a dream of the common man… The vampire that plagues the refuge. You seep things up, play the victim quite well, I could really care less, it is your fault you are breaking. Grams of hope dissolve in the water… I am on my way home.
by Travis Jeppesen on November 18, 2014
A review of Jaanus Samma’s solo show in Tallinn is now online at Artforum.
by Travis Jeppesen on November 17, 2014
“…the screen is a means of transporting one elsewhere: This is the wonder of the cinematic vehicle. It takes you places and it doesn’t expect anything in return. In its comprehension that these “elsewheres” form the overall picture that every being with a conscience should not only be cognizant of but also take responsibility for, Doclisboa ’14 cuttingly enunciated itself as a miniutopia—or the closest thing we may get to one in a world as troubled as ours.”
A review of Doclisboa at Artforum.
by Travis Jeppesen on November 15, 2014
Natural Moan Molly was full of the problems she never had. Yeah, life was a gift. The preciousness of cement is what tore her apart. Making love to a cup of coffee, the apes soon fell away. That left a lot of people to form the rest. But at least they could be explained. Looking different than a lot of society, their eyes went into the cake. Each time a black bog fell on their heads, hipster highway had a wider anus to waste. Sometimes the globe did it also. Milli Vanilli was glad to be a band. Two brothers who were also models, one of them was rumored to be a homosexual. When was the last time you had grilled lamb? That president won’t win the medal of honor. His time is one of certainty, I hate it. The smart ones are all those who love the lawn mower, but refuse to eat it.
by Travis Jeppesen on November 12, 2014
My review of Atalay Yavuz’s exhibition in Istanbul is now online at Whitehot Magazine of Contemporary Art.
by Travis Jeppesen on November 10, 2014
My film I, an Object, commissioned by Panel for the exhibition “House Style” in Glasgow in 2013, is now on Vimeo.
by Travis Jeppesen on November 5, 2014
All Fall contains two novellas by Travis Jeppesen and is the sixth book in Publication Studio’s Fellow Travelers Series. “Written in the Sky” is a plane crashing in slow motion. It was written on a red-eye flight from Beijing to Vienna in the fall of 2012. “White Night” is a thoughtscape of Gilles Deleuze in the moments before he suicided by defenestration on November 4th, 1995. All Fall launches on November 4th, the anniversary of Deleuze’s death.
by Travis Jeppesen on September 5, 2014
It would be great if
someone told me they
loved me today, though I
won’t expect it and
neither should you,
blue sea over there
shimmering under an
ungodly glare. Window on
to the horizon like a
painting I am making
in my mind, please let me
exist for you so that I
may go away soon. That
man with the funny hat there.
I sit beneath this beach um-
brella in Spain and turn
35-years-old while my
friends doze on lounge chairs
close to mine. The sound of
the waves reminds me of
the womb. I am in Florida
again and there is no ocean
between us. 35-years-old
and no children – no you,
either. Hey: still alive.