Five favorites of the week – culture

Vienna Biennale

There are quite a few biennials that deal with the future of our planet. This could be perceived as redundant – if the problems of the climate catastrophe and social peace were not so enormous that it makes perfect sense to remind people in all possible places that there is a need for action. If you want to remain optimistic despite the gloomy situation, you should do the this weekend Vienna Biennale for Chance 2021 to visit. Because the curators are engaged in a real battle of materials under the title “Let’s imagine our planet has a future”. Even the huge exhibition hall of the MAKs seems to be bursting, so many projects can be seen there that show how man and nature can be reconciled again. In such a way that both sides benefit from it. Laura Weissmüller

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007: Become an expert in three documentaries

It’s never too late to become an expert. And also once again the 007 season. The time in the football technical simplicity of Bond expert discussions be replaced. So off to Phoenix, the VHS among the channels. Stand there in the media library just three documentaries that leave no questions unanswered. “The Secret Life of James Bond” and “How James Bond Began” tell of the missions in World War II, which Ian Fleming used as a template for his novels, of the author’s past with the British Navy, of his women’s stories and Casino excesses. “James Bond on the Berlin Wall” tells of an incident involving GDR border guards during the filming of “Octopussy” in Berlin in the summer of 1982; the film copies disappeared a little later. How did it come about? Experts know that. Laura Hertreiter

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With Guy Delisle in the paper mill

The Canadian comic artist Guy Delisle became known with travel reports. He worked for animation studios in Shenzen, China and Pyongyang in North Korea; with his wife, a “Doctors Without Borders”, he traveled to Burma and Israel. He processed the impressions in his comics. His new book Years of apprenticeship works in a similar way: As a student, Delisle had worked in a paper mill for three summers and now talks about the world of work there. From huge rolls of paper that you can easily squeeze your hand into, from exhausting long shifts, the clay under the workers. Also of the speechlessness between him and his father, who is a draftsman in the factory. None of this is as strange as Pyongyang, but it is still a long-distance journey: The gap between the social classes is growing, “years of apprenticeship” is a look over the edge. Martina Knoben

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Ed Atkins

There should be parents who quickly ask their children for vocabulary in the morning, and who discuss everything about organization over breakfast. One wishes that it doesn’t have to be. That it is a bit like that at Ed Atkins’ table in the mornings everywhere. The British artist recently published a book “Drawings for Children” in Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther König, with a good 200 “Drawings for Children”, or more precisely: for a child. Because the five lines of text that precede them explain that they were created in exactly this short time, on weekdays, during breakfast. Only to be hidden in his daughter’s lunch box.

The drawings are printed in their original size, one per page. And only after a few pages do you realize that they are post-its, yellow, pink, neon-glowing stickers. The artist – who is considered to be one of the most important of his generation – has painted over many of them so densely that they can only be guessed at – because the prefabricated orange becomes a glowing balloon and the crazy colors intended for the office with the fine tones are wrong devour the drawings. With the face of an orangutan, the little ghost that is easy to recognize as a child who has pulled a blanket over his head. Some develop from a scribble that is reminiscent of a clumsy child’s hand. Mice smell a tulip, a lonely person sits on a toadstool. Some drawings appear like puzzles; a row of nose, dog’s snout and pig’s trunk on bright pink should obviously be assigned to other organs.

Events, conversations and questions circling Ed Atkins’ breakfast table end up here like friendly flies whose hum you cannot understand. It’s easy to imagine looking at the pictures with children – and listening to the hidden stories. Catrin Lorch

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Hardcore hygge with José González

So far, José González has released a solo album every six years. That’s exactly three in 18 years. That doesn’t sound like much. However, the Swede just sold the London Royal Albert Hall. Accolade location. 4000 seats. He also has a few billion streams. Which shows once again: You don’t need a lot – just the right stuff.

Enter “Local Valley”, now his fourth album.

A piece of jewelery with 13 titles. And again one that muted, unobtrusively, gently and softly whispers “Hello, I’ll get back to you”. Which wasn’t always the case with González. In between he even made trips into hardcore punk. Now he’s back to the hyggelig sofa session in melancholy indie style. No epochal outbreaks, a more level-headed departure, pleasant fog. As if the singer remained in a half-sleep-like state between being melancholy and becoming inspirational, while life is constantly marching on elsewhere. A busy, ever-bustling world. And here in contrast: hymns to nature, love, understanding among all people, search for meaning, healing mindfulness. Should sound terrible. But works terribly well.

Idyllic twittering of birds mixes with retro folk and subtle background chants, whispering mantra-like texts like these: “Action, reaction / Stay with it, hang on / Engage, disengage / Deal with it / Head on”. Or of course: “Swing your hands like forest leaves” in the Latin dancehall-inspired title “Swing”. Ethereal, tousled forest crap. Great arrangements: The introduction “El Invento” sings, no tells, the complexity of a uniquely curious soul. The guitar riffs creeping in and the tender voice form a very fluffy symbiosis. “Visions” floats on a constant drum machine beat. “Valle Local” counteracts this with march-like riffs and energetic melody picking. In all of this: very fine guitar overuse, as if all other instruments had already been out of stock. “Local Valley” reflects such a deep calm, a plea for reconciliation and basic trust in existence. Big, quiet album. Sarah Zapf