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Born somewhere on the planet; in the year in which Malaysia and Singapore change their clocks to the same time zone;      the first computer virus is discovered;      Senegal and Gambia found the Senegambia Confederation;      the Sabra and Shatila massacre is committed in the city of Beirut;      the Hama massacre in Syria begins;      the Lebanon War takes place;      there are renewed protests and clashes between demonstrators and the police in the Yugoslav province of Kosovo, and the predominantly Albanian population of Kosovo demands that their autonomous part of the country be detached from its formal affiliation with Serbia and become an independent republic;     the Federal-Länder Commission for Educational Planning in Germany ceases its work due to a lack of funding;     the follow-up meeting of the Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe (CSCE) resumes in Madrid;    Helsinki-Metro opens to the public as Finland's first rapid transit system;       Argentinian forces occupy the British Crown Colony of the Falkland Islands, for which Argentina claims sovereignty, prompting the British government to break off diplomatic relations with Argentina and, on 5 April, decide to deploy naval units to the Falkland Islands. the singer Nicole, actually Nicole Hohloch, from Neunkirchen, wins the "Grand Prix Eurovision de la Chanson" with the song "Ein bißchen Frieden";     Israel returns the Sinai Peninsula completely to Egypt, thus achieving a certain easing of the Middle East conflict;     the second environmental conference of the UN environmental organisation UNEP takes place in Nairobi, attended by representatives from over 130 countries, with an appeal to do more for environmental protection;     the Turkish woman Semra Ertan Bilir burns herself to death in Hamburg in protest against xenophobia in the Federal Republic of Germany;     health warnings on cigarette packets become mandatory in Hong Kong;     the exhibition "Video Art in Germany 1963-1982" at the Kölnischer Kunstverein shows the works of renowned video artists, including Nam June Paik (it is said that this exhibition gives video art museum status for the first time);    a NATO summit meeting is held in Bonn and around 400. 000 to 500,000 people demonstrate for peace in the city;     the Federal Cabinet of the Federal Republic of Germany decides to only grant education grants for students as loans in future;     the US film "E. T - The Extra-Terrestrial" is released in cinemas across Germany;     a powerful earthquake shakes south-west Yemen;     Time magazine names a computer "Man of the Year" for the first time;         the Nobel Peace Prize is awarded to the Mexican politician Alfonso Garcia Robles (1911-1991), who initiated the treaty on a nuclear-free zone in Latin America in 1967, and to the Swedish nuclear war expert Alva Myrdal (1902-1986), who campaigned for social justice and disarmament;     it is also the year in which the longest lunar eclipse of the 20th century takes place, with the total duration of the eclipse being one hour. century, with a total duration of 236 minutes.

​Connecting as a semi-nomadic living ecosystem and planetary citizen, Mirjam Yazïra Kroker moves within transitory and liminal spaces where art, imaginaries, and lived realities interweave. With an academic background in Fine Arts, Cultural, and Social Anthropology, their creations emerge through fluid constellations that sense and respond to the interconnectedness of worlds and the entanglements of all that co-exists within them.

Their artistic inquiry explores manifold ways of knowing and doing — navigating modalities that co-inhabit, reflect, and reimagine how worlds come into relation. This involves acquiring, co-producing, and sharing knowledge in its many manifestations, always attuned to the subtle connections shaping human and more-than-human realities.

Their work has been recognized through awards and fellowships including Stiftung Kunstfonds (2022), Saxon State Scholarship (2019–21), IFA Research Grant (2016), Austrian Research Society ÖFG (2013), and the STEP BEYOND Travel Grant (2016). International residencies such as Cultureland NL (Amsterdam) and Örö Island (Finland) have expanded their collaborative approach with the planet as a co-agent.

They share with others the belief that what is needed is a planetary art — one that is cosmo-public, based on trans-, intra-, and extra-relational connections of all matter. A planetary aesthetics grounded in friendly solidarity among beings and things, pointing toward the urgently needed shift for a co-inhabitable planet. This, too, is a matter of cosmo-poetics.

The on/off collaboration collective, which they co-founded, explores ways of working together beyond geographical limitations. Their work was made accessible to wider audiences through an invitation from the Museum Casa del Lago in Mexico City (2016).

UNBURY TOMORROW: Against the Normalisation of War is a variable installation
composed of printed micro-essays (multilingual, free for circulation), a portable analogue television
(Tele Star 4004, late 1980s), a telescopic antenna, a white textile, plastic and electricity.

The installation is variable in scale, approximately 250 × 130 × 120 cm.

UNBURY TOMORROW: against the normalisation of war, constitutes the second public occurrence within
Chimeric Embassy of Cosmic Concerns (2025–2028), a semi-nomadic research project initiated by Mirjam Kroker.
The project unfolds through invitations from institutional, semi-institutional, and independent spaces,
forming temporary assemblies and shared inquiries.

UNBURY TOMORROW: against the normalisation of war unfolds from the recognition that war is not an exceptional rupture of order, but a recurrent power logic through which order itself is produced and maintained. Historically, war has structured the world through cycles of conquest, destruction, repair, reconstruction, and renewed militarisation. These cycles are reproductive. They generate infrastructures, industries, political vocabularies, and aesthetic regimes that stabilise power while rendering violence necessary, manageable, and legitimate.

Within this logic, war does not need to declare itself. It operates as an atmospheric condition—shaping perception, affect, and time. Its visual languages are deeply sedimented: images of damage, restoration, resilience, and post-conflict repair circulate with strong aesthetic force. Contemporary art and critical practices are not outside this economy; they are often drawn into reproducing its grammars, even when opposing its outcomes.

UNBURY TOMORROW does not seek to counter this condition with alternative images or representations. Instead, it acknowledges the persistence of this power logic and withdraws from its modes of production. The work refuses the aesthetic operations through which war renders itself intelligible, 'attractive', and culturally operative. The installation consists of multiple elements arranged horizontally. None of them functions as a centre. This lack of hierarchy is deliberate. Centrality reassures; it stabilises meaning. It mirrors the logics of targeting, focus, and command that structure militarised perception. By refusing a centre, the work resists the comfort of orientation and the expectation that meaning must be anchored in a dominant object.

A portable analogue television, Tele Star 4004, is present among the elements. Designed for terrestrial signal reception, the device no longer receives any broadcast. Its screen flickers continuously, producing electronic noise without legible image. The words UNBURY TOMORROW are handwritten directly onto the glass surface. This flicker is not an absence of image, but an image rendered unreadable. The refusal to repair or replace interrupts the familiar cycle of damage and restoration—a cycle deeply aligned with the temporal logic of war, in which destruction is followed by repair, reconciliation, and renewed violence. By remaining unresolved, the device withdraws from productivity, resolution, and narrative completion.

Attached to the television’s telescopic antenna is a white cloth. The configuration frequently evokes the image of a flag. This reading is neither accidental nor corrected. It functions as a moment of exposure. The immediacy with which the cloth is perceived as a flag reveals how deeply perception is trained by sovereign and militarised aesthetics—how quickly fabric, elevation, and visibility are associated with territory, allegiance, and security politics. The cloth, however, is not a flag. The antenna is not a flagpole. The antenna no longer receives signals; it does not transmit messages or claim ground. It has been repurposed into a support without function or designation. In this misrecognition, viewers might encounter their own habituation to the aesthetic value of power and the visual attraction of war’s ordering forms.

Equally present are the micro-essays, printed in Spanish, English, and Spanglish, and currently being translated into Arabic and Hebrew. These texts are made available for free circulation. They do not explain the installation. They move alongside it.

Their circulation from hand to hand, rather than from screen to screen, follows a different historical logic of transmission. Hand-to-hand circulation is slow, contingent, and relational. It depends on proximity and trust rather than speed, scalability, or control. It resists the militarised infrastructures of contemporary media, which privilege surveillance, optimisation, and algorithmic reach. The texts do not produce visibility metrics, data traces, or stable archives. Circulation here is understood as companionship rather than dissemination.

UNBURY TOMORROW does not name an alternative condition or offer a reconciliatory horizon. Instead, it opens a field of questioning:


How might perception be loosened from militarised habits of seeing?
How might language be relieved from the pressure to justify, secure, or stabilise?
How might one begin to live otherwise, without transforming uncertainty too quickly into answers?

These questions are not posed from a position of certainty. They are part of the work’s own hesitation. The installation does not instruct; it attends. It remains with the difficulty of recognition, with the unease of not knowing how interruption might look or feel.

In this sense, UNBURY TOMORROW operates as an insurrection at the level of perception—not through confrontation, but through attentiveness. An insurrection that does not overthrow, but subtly disorients; that does not declare, but circulates; that does not resolve, but stays present with the conditions that make resolution appear necessary.

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