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Think Like A Mountain/

because colonizing heaven might not be such a good idea.

 

As part of the proposed research framework The End Of Nature As We Know It, which was announced by cultureland.nl (Amsterdam/Starnmeer) for residencies in 2018, I suggested a small experimental research with the working title: Think Like A Mountain/because colonizing heaven might not be such a good idea.

Thinking like a mountain, for me was a metaphorical starting point: Well to propose to think like a mountain in a very flat landscape as the polder landscape around Starnmeer could be understood as very headless if this is a word. Anyway, but it is not like that. It is exactly because of the flat landscape that I proposed it.

The notion behind it addresses our capacities of imagination. How can we think like a mountain in a flat landscape and why should we try it? It is an attempt to question in a poetic way why we think what we think – why we feel what we feel – and why we hear what we hear and so on and how it would sound like if we imagine it from different ways of being like, for example, a mountain in this case. The notion of thinking like a mountain is just a possible example for it and can be understood also as an example for the thought experiment of ‘how to address the universe as your library‘. To be curious about the things we encounter and explore them beyond the fact that we LOOK AT THEM (if we can) AND THINK WE KNOW WHAT THEY ARE: If you hear term mountain, you definitely might all have a very concrete image in mind in less than even a second, but what comes to your mind if you try to imagine to think like a mountain? Any concrete ideas? I don’t know it either. Of course, you might google it as I did and as expected there is mostly always something to be found: „Thinking like a mountain“ is actually a term coined by Aldo Leopold. In his book A SAND COUNTY ALMANAC (1949) in section sketches here and there he discusses the thought process as a holistic view on where we stand in the whole ecosystem. To think like a mountain for him means to have a complete appreciation for the profound interconnectedness of all elements in the ecosystem. He came up with the term by watching a wolf die.

Obviously uncountable philosophers, ancient and contemporary as well as natural scientists, etc. have been thinking about the place of humans in nature. In the past years, we have been able to follow up many discussions on the so-called Anthropocene which examines the influence of humans on natural conditions or natural disasters and it has been discussed controversially and criticized for overemphasizing the influence of humans as such. Now we find new proposals for example from Donna Haraway in her book Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene.Here she proposes a kind of making odd kinships, which means something like making kinships with other species to get another interconnectedness with other beings. This is just an example of a current approach not specifically my point of reference.

For me, the notion of thinking like a mountain implies this idea of other ways of becoming by trying to put yourself in the ‚position‘ of a mountain – so to speak, just the thought experiment of synchronizing with the mountain. This title does not want to explain the work or the research interest neither should it  should work because of the title. Rather it proposes a kind of an entrance into a state of being between poetry and paradox. Which understands the imagination as the starting point for maybe something like a participatory realism. As the research itself is the work, somehow, it’s about the materialization of an idea that I understand only incompletely. Though it is a complete attempt.

The video was first installed at the storefront at Cultureland and could be listened from the street, Admiraal de Ruijterweg 181, Amsterdam.

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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