Feind: Die Schattenherren 1 (German Edition)

To ask other readers questions about Herr , please sign up. Lists with This Book. This book is not yet featured on Listopia. Feb 16, Kati rated it it was amazing Shelves: Wir treffen Bren Stonner wieder, der als General der westlichen Dunkelheit sein Leben den Osadroi widmete und nun selbst zu einem Unsterblichen wird.

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Ihn dabei zu verfolgen ist faszinierend. Sie will ihn leiden sehen, unsterblich hin oder her Die Welt und die Charaktere werden gut beschrieben und Bilder entstehen im Kopf. Gleichzeitig keimt Hoffnung auf und es werden Mittel gegen die Unsterblichen gesucht. Bren sticht hier besonders hervor. Diese besondere Gabe versucht er zu kontrollieren und einzusetzen. Aber das kommt unweigerlich und endet in einer Schlacht, die wirklich alles zu bieten hat.

Das Ende hat mir gefallen und es war konsequent. Jan 27, Cornelia rated it did not like it. Anamon rated it liked it Jul 21, Katlise rated it really liked it Mar 06, Jonny rated it really liked it Aug 03, Silvan rated it it was ok Sep 05, Love rated it it was ok Sep 17, Martin Tykal rated it really liked it Apr 09, Ramona rated it it was amazing Mar 21, The Baron wasn't blind to the stunning view, nor were the several women who looked on with an appraising eye. Returning to her partner's embrace Gisela said, "Depending on how many orders Emilio receives, I stand to make up the outlay and he decides whether to release the design next season or keep it on hold.

So you can see, a well-honed tool can be pretty as well. She may be correct. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Very well. Let us dance tonight and see if we still make good partners on the morrow. That made it a favorite of some of the more entrepreneurial Baltic captains.

The skipper of the SS Mozart was no different in that regard, save that he had personal reasons to favor this port when he could. The dock's lights picked out pools of safe going for the few harbor workers and sailors working into the evening hours and left the remainder of the terminal and its boundaries in patches of darkness. Lighting what one wants to see and ignoring the rest was an efficiency that seem to speak to the German psyche these days.

Further, no one cared if the blue-green light made the evening workers look pallid as camp prisoners. The men gathered in the tree line could hardly care less, about German efficiency, or German legal procedure for that matter. The Twelve Jurors were on a mission; their arrest and bounty records usually spoke for themselves. They've a couple of gantries already rolled into place on the pier, so we can expect anything interesting on board the Mozart to be topside now and ready to be buried in the other ship's holds within hours of the Yongxing tying up to the pier.

Nothing questionable there," said Five, only sneering a little at the tax and regulations dodge. But we need to know if this the ship Lady Hydra is using before boarding it. I didn't think so. There are several containers of quote: Five translated for One, "What Seven is saying is this is the only vessel in port that matches her M. On their last stakeout together they'd both nearly punched the guy for ten too many questions along the line of 'Do you see them yet? The Jurors continued to watch and update their timetable. One saw a very well-dressed woman — Say what one will about sailors, no man could have those curves, and that leather overcoat should have had a dangerous when wet warning posted ahead of it — boarded the Mozart.

Thoughtful of our target to turn up tonight! I want our friends there to have time to let their guard and their pants down. Signal Four's team to pull up closer in case we have runners. Each time he'd scanned the coast for impromptu greeting parties he'd seen nothing out of order. Nothing like the wild, desperate days after the War when even a grain shipment was worth the risk! That should have set his mind at ease, but not tonight.

He'd even settle for Customs sending someone out to check his immaculately inaccurate manifests! Still disquieted, the captain went back to his cabin. He opened a special jar which he kept full of water hay for these occasions and took a measure out to be wrapped in a square of parchment and tied in hand-spun hemp lest Iku-Turso interfere. Satisfied that the talisman was correct, he went back out onto the other bridge wing chanting an old song he'd been taught as a young deck-hand.

At the end of the third repetition, he flung the offering to Vellamo out into the reaches of her sea.

Soon, a cold breeze blew out onto the barely-warmer waters, burying the ship in fog. The captain returned to the bridge wing to thank the beautiful lady looking after his crew. Leaving the bridge, he quick-stepped to the radio shack. Though his client may not understand the reasoning or the circumstance, he knew she'd want the warning if it wasn't already too late.

One watched Four lead his team up the accommodation ladder to the ship's deck. Unlike the other Jurors, these were dressed just enough like legitimate maritime officials to encourage any innocent crewmen to back down in the face of authority. That also ensured that they'd be the focus of attention. The other teams, One's included, were dressed more for a surprise boarding. If he hadn't known where to look, even One wouldn't have noticed the seaward teams' jacob's ladders being secured to the gunwale on the far side of the ship. A nod from One, and Five lifted off holding One and Seven.

This part of the boarding counted on the general tendency of people to not look up unless they hear something above them. Dark clothing could help obscure the men, but there was nothing to do for the fact that they couldn't wear armor of any sort without exceeding Five's weight limit for flight. They flew to the ship's aft superstructure and crew's quarters. If Lady Hydra was to be found anywhere, she would be with the Captain. One only had to see how she dressed — in tight leathers befitting a gentleman's magazine — to know her proclivities and what state to expect the couple to be in.

Who in all the bloody ruins of Hell had ratted her shipment out to these vigilantes? Why this side of the transaction? The only reason she'd hired the Mozart was because the Brits were certain that the captain was one of Frau Bahkauv's regular meal tickets. In retrospect, that wasn't surprising, given that even the blood of the very few, to point of being mythical abstaining sailors was said to taste of rum or whiskey.

How she knew that was the result of a mission briefing she'd prefer to forget. She sent a brief coded message back to her ad hoc operations center, but was acknowledged only by static on the radio channel. For communications to be compromised this soon, the Jurors' twidget, Eleven, had to be present even though she didn't see him. Moments later, the quarterdeck was secured by the Jurors. At this point, all she could do would be to wait for an opening that might allow her to salvage something from this operation. She was still watching the ship from a distance when the muffled sound of an explosion rocked the aft end of the Mozart.

Up in the captain's stateroom, Five called out into his microphone, "Eleven! What happened back there? Even working in pairs had improved the Jurors' odds of success these past couple of years, so why change things now? One old sailor and a weak woman like me pose no threat. Watching his teammate squeeze in and out of cramped spaces looking for contraband, Nine wondered if Two had originally been born a polecat. With Two's agility and Ten's reckless strength, there weren't many places that the team couldn't check. That left Nine to watch over them, providing light as needed and putting to sleep any crewmen they ran across.

It would be hours before the sleepers would either wake up on their own in the bilges or be found by port investigators. Either way worked for Nine as long as he got back to close up the pass-through in the hull he'd made before it destabilized. Whatever had happened in the back of the ship wasn't part of the plan. Even Ten was willing to break off to get an update from the rest of the team. That, or he just wanted to show off the few interesting things the team had found. Six replied to both men, in a dead flat voice, "Then maybe, just maybe, you should have listened to the seamen who just died in that room, space, whatever, before the boiler blew up!

It was an accident , understand? Lucky for us, it's ensured this ship full of criminals isn't going anywhere, so we can start searching for stragglers on our way beck to the main deck. Disgusted as he was, he reasoned that this was still an enforcement operation in progress. He followed Eleven and Three forward and up. Twelve made himself useful for once, bandaging the injured sailors. If only the crewmen hadn't tried to rush the boarders when they heard whatever the hell Eleven had done, no one would have had to be hurt. It did cement in Four's mind, and likely in Eight's, that they'd hit the jackpot in criminal activity tonight.

Criminal or not, they all could make statements in a hospital as well as they could in a jail, so Twelve went off to call in whatever emergency services were to be had in this backwater port. From her vantage point, Lady Hydra had heard the explosion, the crewmen's shouts topside when they tried to save their home from the intruders, and the shots fired. All were familiar to her from the War, back when the Hydra was just a Snake with one head to lose, barely a sonic background that long ago lost its ability to inspire fear. The War had ended more than a decade ago! She would be lying if she didn't still harbor a hatred for any surviving Schattenherren , or for the new fascists and corporate 'troubleshooters' that kept springing up.

This wanton disregard for those not involved was supposed to have been left behind, with the Angsthandlers and Schutzstaffel , damn them all. If this was to be the new way of things going forward, she swore she'd be providing her lost personnel an honor guard in Hell picked from her opponents' ranks. It was a personal slap to the face when she saw Juror One escorting a staggering old man wearing a captain's stripes and a much younger woman from the ship.

Anger burned to cold ashes as she remembered that the old man was only just past his thirty-first birthday. Sunday morning, July 27, , A hotel, Copenhagen, Denmark. Gisela Hofer drifted into wakefulness one muscle group at a time as she ran her body through a series of exercises she'd learned years ago as a way to maintain her strength and sanity under confinement.

It worked as well nestled in the comfort of a warm partner as in a foxhole; even better if her partner appreciated the dangers and delights her strength could bring him. There was something to be said for the feel of canines slowly tracked along a freshly mown path the way he could The hotel's appointments weren't limited to near-luxury impeccable cleanliness and a very discrete staff. The breakfast selection was good, the coffee even better. She knew for a fact that any photograph taken inside the room would match in style and furnishings any of a number of hotels across Europe: If the photograph captured the outside view, identifying the location would keep a team of cartographers working for weeks.

One photo taken in her native Vienna had thrown even her. Then again, the Vienna of her youth wasn't the Vienna of her early adulthood, now giving way to another city altogether — a shabby burg that stank of the rubles, dollars, and pounds sterling it was fattening itself upon. Meanwhile, the world's new powers congratulated themselves on building toys that made the world as small as their masters. The view from here isn't that good. How much longer until the cameras and telescopes are pointed down at us, I wonder?

Give their toy makers five more years, and you'll have to wear a bathrobe on your own rooftop. Not only am I 'credited' with the security guards they 'silenced', along with the drowned men found in the lower holds, but Frau Bahkauv was tipped off. Gisela shook her head, "A cost of doing business on this side of the street, nothing more. Perhaps I have become too reckless in my own arrogance as well? So today I gift the Twelve Jurors with a lesson I learned years ago about keeping one's business out of the streets. If they want blood, then they shall have it. Now, put some clothes on.

There's no American camera-men to impress! The pulp stories would have you believe that every villain has one secret lair out of which they manage their criminal empire. The smarter ones might even have a bolt-hole lined up, hidden just enough to slow the hero and his plucky sidekick down for a moment or two assuming the sidekick isn't tied up in the main facility, because that makes so much sense Lady Hydra had a partitioned section of a cheap warehouse rented for half a year through a limited partnership.

Lights, water closets, showers, a break room, security guards, etc. If the landlord needed more space for another client, no evidence of occupancy would survive the tear-down. Compared to a dug-out trench it was paradise. Compared to any other shipper it was business as usual. Three and Ten are the most likely to be be on your tail, but Seven is running out of teammates to annoy. Don't lose them, but don't let Seven crowd you. You're backing Tchernobog up. Seven is faster on his feet than he should be, so you'll want to pick a nest that lets you catch him leaving in case he spooks.

Kazinsky turned to the dark, hulking Tchernobog. I don't want any of them falling before they get into place. If they are ducking wire, better chance for me to get to my position. Your team has the most obstacles to set up, and the least lead time. If you need more hands and eyes, now is the time to tell me. Lend me a bit of dosh to toast some of the local boys, and they'll be looking for a new word for the stalled traffic they'll be looking at. Expect Eleven to vector to your position to join up with them. If Nine comes out of it, and he should, I've memorized the routes to the nearest cemeteries.

One has lately been unpredictable in choosing which squad to assist. Let him commit to one before pursuit. Rendezvous points will be sent out in the morning. Know more than one way to get to them. Do not get too attached to whatever you are carrying! A dropped packet of bills or a bank bag makes an excellent distraction for some of these characters. I expect every one of you to show up at your meet-ups, without tails. That means without anyone following you, including mistresses or angry fathers.

We are down to 22 hours. Partners of the exhibition Partnerzy wystawy: Media patrons of the exhibition Patroni medialni wystawy: April 6th , , 7: Realism, distance and documentarian objectivity are concepts that emerge at the first thought of photography on modern architecture.

In fact, it is thanks to them, we can deconstruct this logic of concepts on up to five different levels. As if it were, indeed, an elevator. It is with this same game that we begin the journey, although giving it another twist: To think of modern architecture is to think of Le Corbusier. You only need to stop in front of the images in this exhibition. If the notion of modernity implies a promise of future, then: The modulor by Le Corbusier, the human scale that should be the foundation of inhabitable architecture, is called into question when observing the vertically cramped accumulation and the urban landscape found in these photographs.

Forms that one day wanted to give a neutral element to the ensemble without keeping man in mind. Now a shelter for multitudes, they have been transformed into swarms that secrete as many worlds as they do windows. Mass-produced geometric shapes mocked by umbrellas, clothespins, awnings and plants.

Decorations that are only comprehended by the free imagination of their neighbor. It is curious, at the very least, to think that these modern architectural forms arise from a constructivist tradition to end up just leaping across the pond, adapting paradoxically to the profit driven media and space in the purest capitalist sense of the term. Ideologically opposed regimes that share an absolutist foundation erasing all evidence of democratization. Taking the selected buildings out of context is a strategy undertaken by both photographers.

Used as isolated subjects, the interpretation of their reality is altered. Here, with a new twist, we decontextualize these works, separating them from their usual cast of members the photographic series to which they belong to also deconstruct on curatorial level. An unhinged urban development that resulted in the accumulation illogical and even disrespectful of recreational buildings along the coast. A modernity, however, seen through the cracks of its decline as a broken promise of future.

If we consider the ironic wink of his Kolorobloki, we reach the highlight of our discourse: Thursday, 9th March, ; time: Duration of the exhibition: The curator of the exhibition Anna Ciabach. The exhibition of Dorota Podlaska is a presentation of works that belong to some of the prior series, whose common ground is the idea of a modern society as a community that is in continuous motion. It is these, more or less comfortable, hotels — our temporary flats for one or a few nights — that strive to, whenever possible, alleviate longings that hunt us down in the moment of rest.

This is more difficult when we leave our true home for longer, or sometimes forever.

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Her work focuses mainly on painting, but she also creates objects, performances, and designes books. The curator of the exhibition Lucyna Sosnowska. Indeed many more of such estates were built in those times. They played an important role in the development of industry and generally shared the fate of the factories that belonged to their founders: In its best years nearly people in total worked and lived here. Its fate was concluded with the decommission of the Poltex company in The renovation was preceded by a long process of relocating all the residents.

It was during this time that Tarasiewicz began to document the empty flats. Such images feel quite familiar to us. The crucial difference lies elsewhere: The greater the power of these photographs is. Viewing the photos, we also cannot help but think, how anyone could reduce his home to such a state? Who were the people who used to live here?

Where are they now? How have their lives turned out after they left the flats often inhabited by their families for many generations? The photo wallpapers in those tiny flats, an attempt to escape from the surrounding reality, what do they symbolize? The artist guides us around the world which is already gone, lost. She does this in a leisurely manner, as if to give us time to reach the conclusion that this is the natural course of things. For the city is made of unique tissue that must evolve constantly. It was conceived of as such, this is its essence. Only a revolution could resurrect it.

Just next door, round the corner, on the other side of the street the revolution has already been made: This must have been a real civilization shock for them, yet another proof of their exclusion. Here you could look in vain for the play with the composition, an attempt to construct interesting shots.

This is not their goal anyway. They were not conceived of as source of entertainment, or to make us feel good. We should instead perceive under our own skin the feeling of hopelessness which must have accompanied the residents of these spaces every day. Thanks to these photographs however, its recollection has a chance to be saved. Tarasiewicz is based in Poland and Norway, where she has gained her professional experience on film sets. Tarasiewicz as a documentary photographer is a sensitive observer of her surroundings, who often emphasizes the absurd and marginal aspects of a given situation.

She photographs her subjects in a straight, raw, ascetic way, recording on the film strip the moments which are the symbol of their times and depict their surrounding reality without any sort of embellishment. Other photo series by Urszula Tarasiewicz have been shown internationally: Periods, in which the western coasts of America, bathed by the Pacific Ocean waves, were overgrown by the oldest and greatest trees on Earth — giant sequoias. Let us imagine times, when the time itself was a mystery. It constituted the sacred force of nature, and the cycles of the seasons returned and departed like migratory birds.

At night the stars looked over the North American continent, indeed completely different from that of today. On the prairies and coasts, in canyons and woods, the prehistoric peoples of North America led surprisingly rich and complex life. Those people developed over three hundred various languages. They bred dogs and cats, but they did not keep horses. They could light a fire, though they did not know the wheel.

They had bows and arrows, but they did not know the gunpowder. They built cities the same size as London, paved new trade routs thousands kilometres long. They would spun stories without knowing the writing, they had the physicians, but could do without lawyers. The exhibition itself is an attempt to present the grace of those beautiful long past days.

You will have here an opportunity to look at the biggest and oldest trees on Earth, the age of which reaches two thousand years, and which remember Indians who used to hunt among them for wapiti a species of deer. Today, when following the same paths in a dark wood, between tremendous trees, and in an undisturbed by any singing birds silence, one has the impression of communing with the world of the redskin warriors of the periods gone by. Redwood National Park The viewers will be able to wedge themselves into the crack in the Navajo sandstone in Arizona, where, below the rocks, due to the process of carving by rushing streams of the rains in those areas, there emerge amazing, even fantastic rock formations of a surprising colouring.

Antelope Canyon Finally, anyone willing to, will see the oldest in Northern America dug into the rock abodes of Indians — Anasazi People, who years B. The Indian I met in the morning, and whom I invited to have a cup of tea, showed me the way to the place, in which some tribal ceremony of the Hopi took place. I was incredibly lucky to experience it as the only white man, and, what is more, I also got the permission to take pictures.

During the vernissage you will also have the opportunity to listen to the sounds of the Native American Flutes, that take you to those places; they will be played by my bosom Friend, the Indian — Marko Sanchez. An explorer, curious about the world, its taste and smell, always on the lookout for the large and small — Magic Moments of the World….

Borys Makary is an exploring artist.

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Thus so many intriguing forms of depicting and methods of presenting topics. During this journey, Makary proves he is an unusually talented artist able to break cliches and replace them with his own original observations and associations. Once seen, they come back to the recipient repeatedly like a boomerang thrown in the Australian bush.

Through his pictures, Borys plays an endless game with a viewer, a game in which he establishes the rules, and during which he is both, the demiurge and an active participant. The unconscious of anything recipient gets caught up in this game as easily as the insect lured by the carnivorous sundew. On the one hand it is a fascination with the human body, especially the female body and femininity in general; on the other hand, it is admiration for the beauty and power of nature. Both threads are led parallelly, although it happens to them to enter together into an invisible dialogue.

Because they are not obvious, one must look for them in the game of the pictures, in their associations. To understand them properly can cause some trouble. He makes us analyse them carefully picture by picture in order to find their connection, to hear their dialogues. What they are talking about? What they want to tell us? Deals with conceptual, creative and commenting reality art.

In his work, mainly uses photography, but also creates installations. More and more often uses the video.

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Master of Visual Arts by education. Former assistant to Richard Warren, a fashion photographer. Since , has received many awards of international photography contests in the USA and in Europe, including two medals at the Prix de la Photographie Paris for advertising campaigns as well as his own projects. Has published in many photographic magazines, including Secret Behaviour or contra doc! Lives and works in Cracow Poland. We cordially invite you to join us and the artists Monstfur to celebrate the opening of the show Rudeal Realm.

Opening on Thu, 24th November Duration Concrete ruins, rusty fences, landfills with all kinds of rubbish are juxtaposed with various plants — the ones which are prickling, toxic, or resistant to harsh environmental conditions. The fight is such a commonplace phenomenon on the arena of urban space as to become invisible to its inhabitants. Changing the scale and context makes it perceptible to the human eye.

It creates its art from hand-cut templates on rusty metal sheets, old bulletin boards, walls, as well as on canvas. This project refers to this era: The machines, covered with shrouds, wait for the return of their owners, to come back to life, to once again be needed. Sarcastic and provocative, the artists have always commented through their works sometimes viciously on the Polish artistic, social, and religious reality, exposing and ridiculing the stupidity, the hypocrisy, the lack of content and, in recent times, also the progressive consumerism.

Under the hood of humor, absurdity, scandal and provocation, the artists force the viewer to the, often bitter, moment of reflection on our contemporary world, earning themselves through this a crowd of devoted admirers, and an equally large number of fierce enemies. The exhibition has been organized in partnership with the Monopol Gallery in Warsaw. Everything happened in the body of the artist, whose mind processed the stimuli received by the exhausted senses and formulated a literary description of these events in real time.

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It will reveal the new versions of the recording as well as interpretations of a similar event. Exhausted Body, Eyes Closed is an exhibition about communication — in a very original sense of the word. In a sense it is also an attempt to search for the sources of emotions and experiences that trigger us off to create. What creates an interesting context here is the hotel space — a space used to chill out, the design of which aims to relax the body and mind of a tired guest.

He is also interested in the boundary states of the human body and mind. To classify him as a multimedia artist is definitely misleading, because he is an artist who with astonishing liberty employs all possible means and tools of art, from the classical ones, like painting and drawing, to the surprising solutions of craftsmanship and engineering. The project is based on portfolio review done by international jury consisting of photographers, editors and gallerists.

The exhibition is a kind of guide to what is happening in the Polish photography. These 55 photographers, selected from , still have a lot to do. They are still searching, though many of them can already be said to represent conscious and thoughtful photography.

However, regardless of their skills, their photographs cannot be ignored. Whether it be a record of everyday life, fashion or creative photography — it is always intriguing, sometimes mocking, and occasionally even iconoclastic. Their photographs result from an inner need to take them, and not from coercion. They are made without inflation, sparing in their means of expression, almost ascetic. They make us slow down, reflect, and think. They are not photos that merely want to show or introduce something; photographs we soon forget. They absorb with their composition, drive the imagination, free the thoughts.

Here we see moments of exceptional photography pushing the limits in visual voice and style across the genres of photography. It is most heartening to see the new generation of photographers coming from Poland to help us find our way today. The curator of the exhibition Chiara Valci Mazzara. Ciechanowski explores the roots of humanity, beyond nationality, identity, language and culture. In an attempt to find answers to her personal questions, she uses her artistic practice as a link to a new form of communication: There is always an action and a reaction.

Therefore, influences gained through the experience would continue as a personal change and deliver it. Feelings play a crucial role in determining behavior. Our collective emotional scale influences our environment. The environment, in turn, can facilitate or discourage interactions among people. The result is bound by its form and the content becomes relative. The words, representing a watermark between the dialogue and the interaction, become a fluid circular content. In each of the intervals, Shoshanah intends to walk with the stranger for 72 steps, then collect information from the meetings.

The essence of these encounters will be subsequently extracted through a drawing on a satellite photograph. Ciechanowski usually begins with a canonical text, speech or a poem, setting geometrical territories or statistical data, visible through their movement in form and content on paper.

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Beyond language and before words, Ciechanowski proceeds, thus, finding the materiality through contracting aural input. The speech transforms into writing and writing gains interaction with colors and textures, leaving its semantic value behind. A drawing, an action. These action-drawings are represented by a new gaze in her video works.

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Her work is engaged with the quest for balance through movement, rhythm and sound. Aiming to grasp a present moment, she is generating a mirror questioning the interval between individual and society. Her work attempts to reveal, behind hidden patterns, a basic longing which brings together the mechanisms of the heart.

Since , she has conducted several workshops focused on emphasizing the importance of practice through reconstructing. Ciechanowski has taken part in numerous group shows in Israel and abroad and held solo exhibitions in Israel, UK, Germany, and Italy. Pawia 3 on Thursday, April 7th, , from 7 PM. Exhibition will be running through Thursday, April 7th, to Saturday, May 7th, Thousands of kilometers later, the artists are still exploring the structure of nature and the forms in which it expresses itself, broadening their knowledge and finding sources of inspiration for their art, the works born out of direct contact with communities inhabiting remote islands.

Their objective is simple: Grzegorz Drozd born in , based in Warsaw and Southeast Asia. A versatile artist and a vigilant observer of reality. To describe it, Drozd employs his own language, constructing uncomfortable and unexpected situations, often with no script at all. By playing a game where his opponents are Convention and Ritual, he can take art beyond the brackets imposed by conventionality. He has participated in several art residencies and has received scholarships of the Ministry of Culture and National Heritage.

To her, life is a mysterious phenomenon, artistic creativity — a form of emotional story. As a result, insects and plants are governed by the laws imposed on them by a superior life form — man. Departure point for Warsaw: Surprisingly enough, art from one of our immediate neighbors, Czech Republic, is not a frequent guest in Polish art galleries. However, the values that the work of this artist contains are by no means limited to this layer.

The content is equally important. Those viewers, in turn, who are under the impression that contemporary art is stuck for good in the sphere of rationality, are in for a big surprise. The figures in her paintings are symbiotically united with the landscape; the non-anthropoid beings — plants, minerals, animals — coexist with humans. Nature is submerged in spirituality. An exhibition organized this summer in the St. Agnes monastery in Prague, Mysterious Distances. Symbolism in the Bohemian Lands , presented this interesting style of art, so important for the Czech cultural identity.

Nowadays, the progress in the technicization of life has accelerated and occurs at an incomparably higher rate than it was the case a century ago. However, related concerns remain the same. How can one defend their subjectivity in the age of digitization, how to commune with reality which has been to a large extent subordinated to the processes designed by machines?

How can we protect, in such conditions, what is individual to us, spiritual and what cannot be grasped with the intellect? And finally, what are dreams and fantasies worth in contemporary world? Late Capitalism and the Ends of Sleep, New York-based art historian Jonathan Crary sees dreaming as an intensely politically charged phenomenon, not compatible with the requirements of global capitalism.

Crary points out that nowadays, there is a tendency to operate 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Therefore, dreaming is seen as time wasted, due to its being unproductive. In this way, dreaming has become something to be treated with suspicion. Artinfo, Kalejdoskop Kulturalny, O.