Und später explodiert dann
zu Ihrem Vergnügen noch das Universum.

(Douglas Adams Das Restaurant am Ende des Universums)

Dearest Ladies and Germs,

They say it's the end but we know that that's a load of Dickie-on-the-Codwobble: Rubbish! Poppycock! Codswallop! Arseketchup, I say! Sir! West Bramblefuck, Mr. Speaker, Hitchhikers, Hoodlums, Madame!

Why would anyone bother to organise an event for the end of the world ? For money, for prestige or just a pure giddy good time ? All the things you can use to sell this shindig IMAGINE kids: Rainbows, fire, flesh, orgies, suicide, enlightenment and weak and willing limbs ?! What more you could ask for babies ? Marry me ! But the mormons won't let me. Whatever! I don't give a damn. There's many a slip twixt cup and lip, betwixt and in-between.

Let's have an end party and everyday we linger; the neon lights go on, the 'Rausschmeisser' is played and everybody goes back home, waiting for the next end is nigh to come. Cheap jack is calling you all. A party built on build up - that makes sense, don't it ? Then maybe we will acquire a seat in limboland where every direction becomes flux, flux keep it moving and grooving. Beachballs gonna getcha. Let's go all ways or just stand still; it's nothing but the same thing, I tell you. This way or that, dog or cat. Impossible, you say No but Yes Yes No No No whatever tickles your fancy kitty cats. Just shut your face and open your eyes!

And guess what ? We are gonna take pictures and film every second of yours and our own downfall and it's going to be visible instantaneously! You are going down down to the ground in history NOW…with us! Everybody is going to be there, even your ugly mother. No hangovers, we promise!

Death is nigh! Phew, what a relief. Oh Marianne, catch me when I fall.The party is changing its stance on the draft. Discipline this Foul-Smelling Reactionary Swine I say!
This is Blasphemy! This is Madness!

Hell's Bell's and Buckets of Blood! I say bring back the King's own fusiliers and show those bickering proles the smack of firm government!
You really think the world's gonna end?

Shouldn't we lie down, put paper bags over our heads and eat cat food or something?
Would it help?
No, not at all.
"Time is an illusion, dinnertime doubly so", Ford said, in one way or another.
Good night !

Signed,

The party girlz
aka AnNa McKAy & GAbs FlowerPOW

"... But a storm is blowing from Paradise; it has got caught in his wings with such violence that the angel can no longer close them. The storm irresistibly propels him into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward. This storm is what we call progress."

Walter Benjamin zu Angelus Novus von Paul Klee


Über einen Zeitraum von vier Tagen verwandeln Gabi Blum und Anna McCarthy die Schaustelle der Pinakothek der Moderne mit Hilfe eines Konglomerats aus Künstlern, Statisten, Verirrten und zufällig Dagewesenen in ein tumultartiges, sich selbst überholendes und sich ständig von neuem aufbauendes Untergangs-Szenario. Wir werden untergehn’ und zwar täglich – auch sonntags! Das viertägige Schaustück wird zu einem begehbaren Tableaux vivant, dem ewigen Grundsatz treu Der Struktur einem Chaos geben (Zitat DAMENKAPELLE).

Die Geschehnisse werden aus verschiedenen Blickwinkeln dokumentiert und live in das im Bauch unter der Plattform liegende Archiv übertragen. Vergangenheit, Gegenwart und Zukunft finden gleichzeitig statt. Nach dem ganzen Spektakel bleiben nur die Relikte im Archiv übrig um die Geschichte zu erzählen. Sie werden billig verschachert und der letzte Rest ein paar Tage später mittels einer Auktion in alle Winde zerstreut.