0834319513

Remember I had those theories about who could possibly be behind the mysterious signage spotted in central Cape Town and surrounds? Turns out it's an 'interactive social project slash satirical experiment' and it has a name: 0834319513.

Intrigued citizens have even dialled the number, reaching a voice recording that'll 'probably call back later.' I imagine there's heavy call traffic for 'Nose Jobs' in Fresnaye, or 'Dassie Biltong' in Woodstock.

Here is the collection of signs which have appeared all over the city in the past few months (except for the odd one to fall victim to night-time revelry in Long Street).

want more?

http://0834319513.blogspot.com/

MY BED.

tracey emin, 1998. 79 x 211 x 234 cm

so why am I showing you a picture of an unmade bed in all its pride and glory, with remnants of the night before strewn all round its feet? condoms? worn panties? empty booze bottles?
the stained sheets and fag butts are all evidences of the morning after a nervous breakdown. what happened last night? well, we can only guess. is she afraid of intimacy? perhaps not. maybe she just cannot help herself. 

My Bed was exhibited at the Tate, as well as shortlisted for the Turner Art Prize.

                               we've all had this bed at some point, as delicate and imperfect as we ever were.

take care of yourself (i'd rather you didn't)

sophie calle's 2007 conceptual piece entitled take care of yourself is a jilted response to a dear john letter she had received via email from her former lover. the interpretations of this letter by 107 different professional women makes this a vulnerable yet defining feminist piece. how can we really render comprehension of heartbreak? it's sometimes only okay to laugh, and that's all you can do when he leaves you.




clown reads break-up letter in an exaggerated humour performance.