Field Recordist,
Sound Artist,
Curator
Anton Anishchanka
A SPACE FOR ARTISTS IN EXILE
Open Stage, Discourse, Collaboration, and Mutual Support
Featured Work
Video
Interview
Essay
Open Call platformB: »Blau Map«
Open Call platformB: »Die Fraktur der Frakturen«
Open Call platformB: »Wandering roots« by Nadya Sayapina
Interview
Interview with Masha Pryven
Essay about a book by Hanna Yankuta
Interview with Alexandra Kononchenko
»Homeless under an Alien Rainbow«–photo project by Kseniya Halubovich
Interview with Anna Dial and Arina Kalimulina
Interview with Yauhenia Dougaya
Artwork of the month: Lesia Pcholka
The Programm is now available
Artwork of the month: Ludmila Pogodina
Artwork of the month: Essay by Volha Hapeyeva
Artwork of the month: Varvara Sudnik
Artwork of the month: Anton Avdieiev
Artwork of the month: Zophia Ewska
Artwork of the month:
Anton Anishchanka
Anton Anishchanka
Artists
Samir TimajChi
Singer,
Cultural Influencer,
Promoter,
Cultural Agent
Maryna Rusia Shukiurava (Rusya)
Alla Melenteva
Works
All of Us Are Living in the World of Colonized Languages
A Belarusian writer Golya z Opolya talks about her debut book, the importance of knowing one’s kin and language as a way to resist colonization.
»Sounds can unlock the access to parts of our memories we might not often think of«
Sasha Smirnova–on nostalgia that inspires, Berlin that sounds like summer dacha and pandemic collaborations that taught us to trust and share
»I Wanted to Hear the Voice Telling me that All Was Temporary«
»exile is a library in Tehran that does not fit in a backpack«
Iranian poetess Atefe Asadi–on the freedom and power native language gives you, translation losses and memory that at times could be very cruel
Tread Lightly
A Syrian poetess reflects on the contrasts between funeral practices and perceptions of mortality, weaving together personal experiences of loss and cultural observations, inviting readers to contemplate the universality of death’s impact on hu …
»Die Fraktur der Frakturen«
The fracture of the fractures
»My Doors Have No Locks«
Forest Faces