邁克·亨茲

INTERVIEW

that’s where the name came from.

We started in 1978 as a performance group – a music performance group – but what we did was not mainstream： it was difficult for the audience to accept and to adapt. That’s why we received very little suport… we had no space in the public eye， or in the galleries， and we were so young， so new， that people didn’t really get what we did. So we did a lot private work， private performances， and we had to travel a lot to find places to work and perform in， because in our own city there was very little support. Then there were I think 5 or 6 festivals when we managed to get in but the audiences and the organisers often stopped our performances by cutting off the electricity –and we endured quite a heavy， conflicting situations， you know， including censorship from the organisers – and from our side as well.

We often had very provocative performances or positions， and at certain points we were refused and censored. We got the idea of doing our own festival. Certainly that was in parallel with the development of an independent music scene and the punk， the “new wave” movement towards the mainstream music scene. We were developing our own structures， our own shape， to have a new opportunity in the mainstream， so we started producing and distributing ourselves. And we said that， also， we wanna make our own festival， and as a joke we said we’d do it in Bangkok.

So， that was abstract， and we started to think what we could do… and Bernard Müller， the third guy from the group at that time， he had already done something in Bangkok in some strange museum which belonged to the princess， which was called the Bhirasri Institute of Modern Art. So we said we’d go there！ And after a long discussion we developed the idea of bringing our culture to Asia， not to be hippy tourists or on businessTHING， so we thought we had to do something different， and to bring something along with us.

So we came to the idea of a“stone” as a heavy rock’n’roll monument – rock and roll in both senses. It was basically to take with us some of the oldest traces of European culture– Celtic culture， manifest in Stonehenge. The original idea was to steal A stone from Stonehenge and bring it to Asia， but that was obviously impossible… we would have been immediately arrested for harming a cultural heritage site. So instead we took a stone from A quarry in the Prescelly mountains in west Wales， where the inner circle of Stonehenge was originally taken from. The history is that they transported those blue granite stones， which make up the inner circle of the Stonehenge， for 300km from the Prescelly mountains， on fleeces， rolling it up to the position of Stonehenge today.

So we took a stone from the Prescelly mountains… Basically we took a neutral stone that embodied the so-called “Celtic or Druid culture”. While nobody knows exactly what this culture was， certainly it would have been easier to take a “Roman” stone， but then we would have been connected to Roman culture. So it was kind of neutral to bring this contextually “virgin stone”.

The stone was the catalyst of the project. We had a very complicated system of finan-cing because nobody believed we could achieve it.

We tried in different ways to finance our project： we made shows， concerts and looked for sponsors， and then we started with a private share. We couldn’t put it on the stock market， but it was a share- the first “artist” share.

We created shares to co-finance the project- it was about$30 for one share， which meant 400 grams of the stone and 1km of the trip to Asia. We finally had about 2，000， or 2，500 co-owners， we made 20，000 shares， today Müller， one of the members of the group， is “keeping hold” of 10 or 15，000. He left the group in 1984 and converted to Islam， and became quite “extreme”- recently we had some very interesting dialogues with him， because he was really eager to work with us again but he wanted us to be using his religious language， Karl and me， and we didn’t want to convert to Islam…

And also， it was in a sense against the beginning of the project – we didn’t want to connect our work to some esoteric parts or to some political or religious context， but to a neutral one， a humanistic one， an energetic oneto research into this whole trip. The idea of “archiving”Europe （European forms and contents）， and Asia （Asian forms and contents） was a central aim， very strong-ly to find common forms and languages of cultural information.

To give an example， suppose we want to make an avant- garde salon today. If you take avant-garde salons in the 1920s， of the Dadaists in Zurich in the 1920s – how would we realise that today？

Well， for example， we came to a village in Turkey， and we had a washing machine with a generator but we needed the water. So we put up the washing machine with the generator near the water well and started washing， and that gave the women of the village a pretext to come and see us because washing is women’s business in Islamic culture. This was in public， because it was a central place， so we created a platform of discussion and a kind of salon（through the washing）， where we could talk with women， which is usually prohibited in rural， Islamic Turkish context . But if I were to say， okay， here today in Berlin， in the avantgarde theatre in Berlin， I’ll put a washing machine on stage- the same idea of exchange， of a salon， wouldn’t work. So the same content always has a culture-dependant form， and this was one main research and technical results. If we wanted to develop our practice and experience fur-ther， would we have continued the Minus Delta T， with the experience we had as a music group， as a mythological new wave punk group， with a mythological theme about provocative actions and performance art？

We were seriously trying to exchange out of the normal norms which in today is something normal （with globalism）， but at that time in the 80s it was rather difficult. We were seriously trying to exchange out of the normal norms， which today is something normal （with globalisation）， but at that time in the 80s it was rather difficult.

I mean， one of the ideas was also to basically do a radio station on a truck， something realistic today which was absolutely impossible in the 80s. You’d get thrown into jail immediately. I mean， we went through Turkey， which was ruled by a military government， Iran had a military government， India too， and fundamentally China as well. So， you know， it was impossible to get freedom of expression on a traditional level of new media like today. Sure， we made reports on the trip（which was co-financed）. Every two weeks we sent a radio show to the Austrian national radio， and every Friday there was a kind of travel report which became a cult show in the music box （Musikbox） program in ORF， broadcasted in the whole of Austria.

LZH： Which year was that？

MH： This was 1982-1983. Basically， every Friday we had a radio show and a lot of people could follow what we were doing， and that became quite a cult， you know… also there was this book by Merve editions I gave you， this Minus Delta T book. Merve was one of the most important philosophical publishers in Germany in the 70s and 80s， who first translated the French philosophers Félix Guattari， Baudrilliard， and other people like Deleuze， et cetera.

They published our book before we made the trip， and so we got a lot of credit through that later. We realised about 80% of what was written in this book. But the book was just concept， later it became real… the main fight we had with the editors is that we didn’t want to publish our old performances， but they’d said “we have to put some of your performances， otherwise people won’t believe anything”. Anyway they took the risk and published mainly our concepts， and they had the big credit of publishing our concept outside of the art market. Outside of the art mafia， you know， which was basically based on some galleries， based on state money， and based on the system of“I’m a serious artist， and you are not a serious artist.” So we were not serious artists， nobody from official cultural context was sponsoring us， in exception the Austrian ministries gave us a little money and some diplomatic help for the road with the embassies， but we started working with sponsors in a time when sponsorship in art didn’t even exist， you know.

We also had a cigarette company as a sponsor， and there were some English and German artists who insulted us because we were advertising a cigarette company. The same people are paid today – BY Philip Morris， no problem with sponsoring. Funnily enough， some of our sponsor companies trusted us more because we said we were going to do an expedition to the Himalayas， and this equipment sponsoring from those companies. You’d go and visit them and they analysed US guys， who had a truck and believed in the project. The company owners took us by their own romantic nostalgia： “I started with a little Volkswagen in my company and it was a big adventure up until today， and now these young guys are here and they have this truck for this adventure with a stone– are they going to grow just like us？” so the sponsoring was an identification of the company owners in our group taking a risk in an impossible project that they liked.

The company came for the sympathy or emotional resonance of our project， which reminded them of the beginnings of their business. So that’s why they financed us， which the art people didn’t do. People in the art scene thought：“Who are these punks， these hooligans who just want to rip off our money with their fake shares. They’re never going to travel.” You know a lot of people who bought the shares said “hahaha！ What a smart way to get money from them！ Now they are going to put them in frames…”

So there was a BIG back and forth with finding financing/ sponsoring， so I have to say we arrived in Turkey （after a European tour of about 6 months） with $2000. Then we dealt with our sponsored reserve tires， and sold them， or we exchanged American army jackets with Iranian revolutionaries for 800 litres of diesel， which was nothing for them but for us a lot. Years later we found a lot of money out of the ministries， when the project was running， for exhibitions about the project. So all the investment was essentially done by us and developed by us and not by the art scene.

The idea of the Stone Project was to travel with it through different countries， staying at different places， getting people to interact with it， and performing， and trying to document this salon-exchange idea with photos， films and videos. That was what we called “Archive Europe， Archive Asia”. We arrived in India， where we deposited the stone in the Ganges， for about 3 or 4 years.

That was the time when Bernard Müller， from the group， split to Pakistan， and converted to Islam quite extremely. He got his wife and kids to Pakistan and took our truck， and started a business trading Pakistani furniture to Europe. He prayed every day， and as an extreme convert his wife had to walk… behind him.

He is more moderate today， but we didn’t work with him any more. We still have contact with him， but we involved other people， more people， and tried to communicate our research and our experiences… The original idea was to go with the stone to Bangkok， but it wasn’t possible because Burma was closed – I don’t know how it’s called， Myanmar？ – It was closed and there weren’t any roads to Thailand： it was cut from India. So we went by aeroplane to Bangkok and organised – in a time of military curfew – we organised a festival of performance and art in the Birasri Institute of Modern Art， and for this we invited people from Europe with the minimal budget that we had. About 15-20 people came， and so we did our first performance festival in Asia in Bangkok， Thailand.

LZH： How long did it take to move a stone from Europe to Bangkok？

MH： Well， we all stayed in different countries for a while. We left in October ’82， and we arrived in India in April’83， and we did the festival in Bangkok in May ’83. But there were some places where we stayed longer： we traveled through Bulgaria， Romania， and Slovakia to Turkey， then we made a visit down to Lebanon， Syria， back to Turkey， and then to Iran， Pakistan， India. And the stone never reached Thailand！

For a long time we had the idea to bring it to China， for five years. We tried hard but it was just impossible by land with the truck. It would have worked to bring the stone with a ship， but we wanted to travel， to have this interaction， so this didn’t work… we tried a lot， but it didn’t work.

Now it can work， and now we’ll do it as well. The idea being to bring the stone to China， our original plan was to bring it to Tian’anmen square， which is perhaps politically impossible – but we were young and we thought that this（being political） was important. Our other idea， in the 80s， before Russia’s political system changed in 89， was to go from China into Russia via Moscow， and to transport the stone to Cuba， and then go from Cuba to Cape Canaveral and shoot the stone into space with a rocket. And we told people we’d do this， but finally we understood it’s more important that the stone travels. It was an ideal educational way to learn how to communicate， BY transporting this stone.

Because the stone is a projection surface for everybody who comes there， and a lot of interaction happened at the scene. The stone became loaded with the strong energy of all of these people who came and projected onto it. Some of the most common questions that we were asked， were things like “Why did you do this？”， “Which religion do you believe in？”， or “What are you selling？” – “No， no， no， we’re just transporting the stone.”

And they started fantasising， projecting. It wasn’t a “it’s a Roman stone”， “ah… you’re from the Greek/Roman culture”，or “you’re Christian？”– the stone was neutral， and it was important to have a neutral， un-carved stone without meanings. So it could be a projection platform， or our“framework” for the people.

LZH： But that’s always the case， because when people talk about something with the object， they always try to project things. I also want to ask you questions related to this performance or the contextualised work： are you also affected or related to Fluxus， or like Dada， which you mentioned？ And why？ Because this was at a different time， what were the shifts between peoples’ concepts： why they responded in their way， and why you did in your way？

MH： I could not really say that at the time I was informed by Dada or Fluxus. I knew a lot about those people， and they were basically also censoring us because they were established– they were the generation before us， the Fluxus people， for example. I couldn’t stand Beuys – excuse me， in China you’re all fans of him – I felt he was terrible in his charismatic guru replacement thing for Germany’s lost generation， I thought it was terrible… but okay， he became like an icon of German art， and it’s okay. We didn’t want to mix with these people， we wanted nothing to do with these people. But the live art was important for us， for us it was important to integrate art in life， and， I mean， Fluxus and Dada were iconic， symbolic performance acts. Some people tried – for example Kaprow， some other people around him – they tried to involve life a lot. But the show program and symbolic stuff， public theatre … we didn’t like it so much. So certainly our position was quite against Fluxus and Dada – by that I mean it wasn’t enough live art.

So， when you’re in dialogue with some systems， and you’re opposed to it， it strengthens your own system because your enemy makes you stronger. In that way we did have a lot of enemies because were young， because we were loud， because we wanted to do better， because we didn’t want to be part of their family， we didn’t have that heritage thing. We were a solitary group contrary to this， when I met with the Moscow conceptualists for the first time（where we also had contacts in the 80s， when I met them via Infermental video magazine– I was editor and producer of 2 editions of Infermental magazine in the 80s.

When we first met the Moscow conceptualists in 1989， they were 15 or 20 people. Having a cup of coffee with the medical hermeneutics and their friends， Anton Kabakov said ‘yes， I’m the third generation of the Moscow conceptualist artist group’， which surprised us…they had a total heritage way of thinking from father to son or from senior to junior， which we （Minus Delta T – MDT） didn’t have at all. We were left alone， we had to invent something. Now partially I have my clients where I take this role （of a heritage） which I rejected before… I rejected the role of being the “father”of a movement， or something like that， and maybe this was the strength we really had， and that’s why I found Karl too.

He didn’t want to have anything to do with that art system either – he wanted something different. We weren’t so experienced， we were learning the whole time. When I was in confrontation with all these “not good art” discussions， the quality definition of the art market repulsed us. In the art market they basically always try to break up the artist groups –their classic thing was to pay one member in an art group and not the others. A group would be finished （through this） if it was weak. We refused， you know， we refused to say there was a leader – we said we were a group.

When there is negotiation in the group for a concept for an exhibition， we send the youngest of our group. They always want to talk to Mike， to me， to Karl， but we send the youngest and say that ‘he’s responsible for this project， we’re not’. So we always change， there’s been no putting one name forward. Minus Delta T had 6 or 8 members always coming and going， besides Karl and Mike as basic group members.

Today the heritage is Karl and me， because the others were engaged in other things – at that time it was protecting the group， protecting the label. It was reinforcing the thinking that we were a hermetic group. Sure， it was our mistake sometimes， but that’s how we kept our density and identity. There were women who wanted to travel with us on the Stone Project， and we refused. There were about 6 or 7 women who wanted to make the trip with us： we said‘you make your own women’s group then you travel， we don’t want to be bodyguards for you in Arab countries， and be responsible for the disastrous behaviour of men towards women in the world – you make the experience alone’. There was one woman who wanted to travel as a man –her project failed， but it was to think of the people who really wanted to do it， this thinking of doing and find a practical way. I mean， there were groups like Die Toten Hosen – you probably know them， punk group from Dusseldorf – we started music at the same time as them， they wanted to come to Iran and play in Persepolis， but they couldn’t manage. The management at that time was much more difficult than today. There was no EasyJet or cheap airlines. It was very expensive， and communication was so expensive – in some art shows in galleries we wanted our telephone bills to be paid by the galleries. Initially they’d say， ‘okay， what are your fees？’We’d give them the telephone bills for a month， and they would all refuse because they were afraid of the fees， which were incredibly expensive at that time.

LZH： That’s very interesting as we’re talking about the early 80s， you know the issue of Visas， and also… as you said， you have to cross many countries， and certainly （there are） clear taboos with culture– refusing women to join you –and telephone issues… I mean， with all these things， how did we finally get these pictures back？ Nowadays， to imagine that is really hard！ It’s really， very hard to understand what the world was like 30 years ago.

MH： We had a situation a year ago in Prague， where we had a retrospective exhibition based on the Van Gogh TV （project）， of our following up group of Minus Delta T （Ponton Media Art Group Lab was the name）， and what we did there was a timeline on a wall： what， in the 70s， were the major political events， inventions， EastWest conflicts， who were the dictators of the world？ all these were documented to visualise the context ， who was doing what， what was invented – and it’s so hard for people today to imagine a situation without telephones. For example， in Moscow in the 80s there were public telephones which didn’t cost anything， but everybody knew they were being listened to. So the Moscow people had a system so that they’d never talk on the telephone when they visited somebody， to avoid surveillance. Rather these people would go from this apartment to the next one， to the next one， to the studio（in the art scene， I mean） and to have this kind of daily life where you didn’t make a date， you didn’t fix things – it was all open， it had to be.

You just need to compare with the beginning of the Van Gogh TV project – that was in ’92. We were calling from the Baltics， Latvia and Lithuania. An international telephone call back then meant 16 hours of waiting to get connected. I mean， imagine you’re trying to do a project today with whatever technology， telephone or text， and then you have to wait for 16 hours to reach connection！ Four months later we got sponsored by Nokia for the Baltic project， and we had the first “fat” handie （Nokie mobile phones）， these big heavy bricks of mobile phones， and the communication was five dollars a minute， which was totally incredible， but we were sponsored so we could do the whole project in the Baltics. We could phone from the Baltic to Moscow. Moscow was even more difficult to reach： it could take 30 hours to connect on an official telephone line for an international call to Moscow.

So we had these mobile phones sponsored by Nokia， and we could communicate from there to Germany， the centre in Kassel at the Documenta 1992， in real time. At that time， the first Ponton MEDIA project in public was in 1987.

LZH： 87？

MH： This “Piazza Virtuale”was in ’92. ’92 was the Van Gogh TV project. In 1987 we were with Minus Delta T in Documenta， with a media bus. We were invited to the performance program and we did an illegal radio show which we declared was a “sound sculpture”.

This was also in a time when there were no private radio stations – which you can’t imagine today. So what happened？ We had a wellprotected transmitter and we were transmitting every day from different places， and we always had four people watching out for the police， or the post people who might come searching for the transmitter. There were these post cars which were driving around – those search cars with antenne to find out where our transmitter was. So what we did was， we cut the tires of those cars： we broke in to the place where they kept these cars， and we put sugar in the tanks， so they were broken and they couldn’t follow us any more.

Also， we had walkie-talkies to communicate with each other： we would put the transmitter for example on the bordel（brothel） and you had the pimps there who didn’t like the police at all – “did you let the police in？” So by the time the police reached the roof we were gone， and the transmitter was turned off and hidden.

We were on the roof of the bordel （laughter）with the transmitters – we changed the transmitting position every day， until we were legalised. It was an incredible activism， you know， protecting our broadcast– a performance in itself. So many of the people taking part were participating because they were romantic about these illegal actions and this game of hide-and-seek. MDT didn’t share this enthusiasm of “being against” （the system）， we weren’t trying to be against， we tried to be for something： that is， creating our own thing. But we had a lot of fans who were in this “against” culture. Today we live in a society of “against culture”， Che Guevara T-shirts are mainstream， but the mainstream of “being against”is the isolation of little groups into clubs， into specialists –which are better consumers， you know.

LZH： So who was the curator at that time， in 92 and 87 as you mentioned？ Why did they select your project？ What did they feel about your activist situation？

MH： Well， in 87 we were very famous through the Stone Project and through several other projects – such as the Death Opera project. We were known. We were invited to Documenta by Elisabeth Jappe from Koln， a curator who specalised in performance. So she curated us for this program with Mr Schneckenburger， and he agreed to put our media bus next to the performance program at the Documenta. We used the opportunity to invite the Chaos Computer Club（hackers） to the Documenta， to our media bus， we had chats with the world through“The Well” in San Francisco， which was the first telephone modem chat connection where we could talk with people from around the world. So all these innovative things， all these things were elements and possibilities in our media bus our mobile lab and radio studio. We were the first ones to invite Chaos Computer Club into an art context， and we also had this radio TV RABOTNIK from Amsterdam involved in our Documenta action project， which was more or less a SQUAT TV radio station. We brought together the left-wing people with the art people in Germany， which is sometimes a problem because the leftwing were historically antiart – and today the left-wing monopolise the contextual arts scene in Europe.

You had a lot of contextual art which is not open to political thinking， I think， and we brought these people together， so there were a lot of conflicts back then， in our project in the Documenta in ’87. I think we involved like eighty or a hundred people during 3 months （not including the audience）， so the network idea， the mobile atelier was always there. The Stone Project was also a mobile atelier with a mobile transport. So in the live art process， what the atelier processes is important. In general art thinking we have the atelier， the process is excluded and private， and then you have the exhibition as a result. But the result， however， is dead， because it’s in the museum， and the process of developing art is finished.

Certainly， one of our ideas was to make the process through the product， and this is why we continued with these mobile public labs， the media bus we had in the Documenta in ’87， and a radio station which was at first illegal and then got legalised as a sound-sculpture， a temporary sound-structure. That was a bit strange because all the political （the left-wing anarchistic） radios who were in the process， or had been caught by the police or sued（for illegal broadcasting）， came to us and wanted our papers. They wanted the government paper which legalised us as a sound sculpture， to present in the juristic process， and we refused because we said we were doing the radio in a different， artistic context， and they （these radio stations） weren’t interested in art.

For us， it was an honour to do a subjective radio show in that period. I mean， this was also something people didn’t understand. Official media was objective， monolithic， it was controlled by political opinion， and it was pyramidal， vertically controlled （hierarchically）. We were horizontal， we were at a democratic level where we had subjectivity， which is what art is – art is totally subjective， you know. And this was what people understood， and this is why we called our first TV station Van Gogh TV， because everybody – the most uneducated guy knows that Van Gogh was an artist and that he cut off his ear. So with this in mind， it was clear for most people that the station was connected to art， and wasn’t

“Blue Sky” TV or anything.

LZH： This is very different in terms of understanding media art at that time. I would say， to describe what you mentioned：“contextualised art”. For example， Nicola Bourriad’s Relational Aesthetics， which he wrote in the 90s， do you see a connection there？ Do you see yourself as related to“relational aesthetics”， or do you see yourself related to the so-called “media art” label？ Because you’ve been treated as a media art group （which is very interesting）， and I’ve never heard somebody mentioning you or your group as major representatives of relational aesthetics. But you were even earlier than them （relational artists）.

MH： The thing is quite simple– representation didn’t matter so much （to us）， we care more about the production. And now， concerning media art， we always had a problem with the concept of “solo signature”， that kind of “I am an artist”signature. We were a group， so that was also a problem on the level of copyright. We didn’t know what would belong to “me” if we were doing something together， and there was a conflict. Sure， the video artists had this problem of about how to get money， when could they， since they do work in so many different systems of video art.

For example， in the 80s， in the Netherlands， to say video art was serious， there were rules regulating financial support for video art. Thus there was no music allowed in video art work because music came under the heading of“music clips”， and that was commercial. So you had a lot of totally humourless clips， or boring Dutch video art with no music at all. Otherwise （if they had music） they wouldn’t get money from the state （because they were treated as “sponsored by commercial parties”）， so this was a kind of strange substitution， on a monetary level， about how art was orientated， and designed itself around how artists got money.

When we started doing art TV， the art people said “you are doing bad video art”， and even the most important video art critics said that， because they couldn’t think in a live art sense and in the context of interactivity. Now they speak about us very differently， in the context of history， but we were doing live TV and interactive stuff which they initially said was “bad video art”. I mean， they didn’t understand what we were doing， but the audience did understand， and people reacted to it.

So this independent thinking， creating independent fields of working， was always important， and I would say that 20% of our work was in the art field： meaning that we created other working platforms beside the classical art scene （i.e. galleries）. Okay， we were at Ars Electronica and a lot of these new media festivals –those were also relatively new scenes at the time. We did big projects there too， but it was maybe 30% of our total work –the rest was in different fields， integrated into society or into different states. The Frigo group， which was the French group I talked about before， was also an independent production place outside of the art scene.

Now the art museums want to expose us in an artistic context but at the time they said “oh， you don’t fit in here， you’re not close to an artistic or similar statement”， etc. Censorship till today is not to “forbid” something but not to “finance” it.

On the other hand， we weren’t controllable， and that was the point， too. I mean， you’re a group， you have an infrastructure， you’re independent： you’re not the helpless， genius baby artist which they’d like to have， while the critics say “oh you poor little artist， you don’t even know what to do， I have to write some text about you saying that you are an artist…and i get paid for my text”.

Now this is what you have about contextual artists today， people say that they put a piece of paper on the wall， and when they write three pages about it， then it becomes art – that’s not independence， that’s making the artist little babies. And， say， okay， you’re a genius （LZH： Or a handicapped baby ） Yeah（laughs）， and he is so inspired by his creativity and his genius that he has to take drugs， and he’s a handicapped， oh fuck you， you know…

LZH： But my question is， as you mentioned this… today we talk a lot about contextualised art and so-called “relational aesthetics”. I think that the difference is， a lot of artists from the ‘90s were doing it in certain kinds of contexts， which was more about between human beings. And I think your work in the 80s was even more about that， more than that， because in a way you’re involved with so called“mediation” issues. So you see – if we are to talk about contextualised art – how can we understand contextualised art？ Because certainly it is in a context： if we don’t read about it， how can we understand or access this kind of art？ And why are we doing this kind of art？

MH： I would put it into three different levels. We have three processes of art. The first one is the individual level， the second is the dialogue level， the third is the living aspect level.

Or… so， you say you can have the journalistic， or the portrait artists， or the documentarists， who can reproduce a beautiful landscape， or a beautiful portrait， or see very well in a journalistic context. I think a lot of art today is a journalistic， commenting on what’s happening in society： it’s not inventing culture， it’s commenting （on） culture.

The second （dialogue） level of art， to me， is a symbolic way of connecting different philosophies. Often we see a combination of icons put together in an installation. Maybe you are developing philosophies of thinking at different levels， but the pro- blem is， it is still something symbolic， and not a live act. A lot of artists are doing symbolic works， for instance： a lot of the contextual people do symbolic works which have nothing to do with their solidarity， for example， for the poor Africans. When I was in art school in Hamburg in the ‘90s， people said “we have to do something against racism”， and I said“okay， the best thing you can do against racism is to sign up on a visa form or to take up some responsibility for the person， and then a black person can get a bed at your parents’ house， or you just give them money， then it’s okay.”But all the rest is crap， you know， this solidarity – this ‘we hold hands around a lake and light candles’ – some symbolic shit. Certainly it’s important to develop the language with the new writing， and to find new forms – for example， old installations of Ilya Kabakov are also journalistic， and there were descriptions of Stalinism， but in a visual way. So sure， the visual language is very important for us， and we did the research on it through these different countries in the Stone Project， to find the same content with different forms and cultures.

The third and most important（level） is prototypes of life， and prototypes of culture， not to be commentary of what’s produced on TV but to produce culture ourselves - which is even more difficult today， because we have this total politically-correct censorship. And what you think is maybe not politically correct. If you start being creative， maybe this isn’t politically correct. This is my main interest- not being politically correct adapted， but developing a culture of ourselves， which may become folklore or mainstream. Not just being there and saying“I’ll be the cynical or sarcastic commentariat， making a commentary on what I see on TV， on politics， and how people walk around”. I mean- nobody is inventing their own clothes. I mean， some do， but not really- it’s basically imposed on us， say， restricted to what Nike stuff we should wear.

But， there is also the human aspect in these levels of art – a） you have the individual which grows up and finds his own identity and his consciousness， and b） you have the gang， which is the young people who listen to the same music， and wear the same hair. It’s a kind of homosexual self-mirroring， the love of the other comes from the love of yourself. Homosexual is maybe not the right word， but it’s this kind of achieving your own identity through others， to be more precise. And c） on the third level， you have “the other”， which in the historical sense is the man-woman relationship. And that’s the only fruitful business， because something will come out of it. In a manwoman combination， or in “the other” or in “the network”， some products will naturally come out of the network itself. I say that you have three levels of artworks： you have individual work， you have the gang or group， and you have the networking work， which is the art and which is fruitful， and it’s basically the most important thing to continue， because it makes babies， in parentheses and resources. I remember that time when we were doing this networking or interactive stuff， and naturally the traditional curators said that “oh， this isn’t art， this is social therapy”.

In this context， I think you have to analyse and put it together： we’ve done contextual art but in a practical way， not in the sense of philosophical abstract reflection. I think contextual art is a good school of thinking， a good school of reflection， but we always started from the practice level. We do what we wanted to do， how can we do this， how can we realise this –always with mistakes， sure， but in a practical way， and not in a pre-designed way.

For example， Peter Weibel … in the end of 80s， he was jealous of us when we started the Van Gogh TV. He was totally jealous because he established interactive art as a type of art genre to be financed by three festivals in Europe， which were Ars Electronica LINZ ， Karlsruhe （zkm）， and maybe 2 or 3 other places in Europe. Each installation， each interactive installation， cost 70，000 to 80，000 euros， even 100，000 euros， because you have to pay the artist， the materials etc.

He was in control of the so called interactive art media scene. There were about 10 people controlling the distribution of this money， and I would say that he was one of them. And then we came and did a social thing， while we had an interactive system which cost nothing， or very little. Peter Weibel hated opensource interactive stuff， which we were the first to establish， you know. I mean， there were other people working on it， but he had no relationship to the hackers and all these （opensource developers） … we had a relation to the hackers， we did the benefit festivals for the first hackers when they got into prison for hacking into company computers （to prove the lack of security-something normal today）. When they hacked into the security systems to show that the people weren’t safe， there were a lot of them in prison. There were no fucking artists there， in ’91 or in ‘90.

LZH： I think you’re talking about the particular kind of…you know， people usually think about this kind of validation or legitimacy with their own kind of art. So it’s no longer about this so-called democratic thinking. I think your work is very important， because from the very basis they’re democratic actions， taking action and sharing with people. So I think your work also makes your art a bit weak， and away， isolated from the market – because that kind of art is certainly not interested in the market. The market is more interested in this so-called “old style”， the “classical way”， the socalled original thinking in art.

MH： Well， on that level it’s important that you also have your own style. I have to say I make more money today with flatware – flatware means pictures， things you can hang in galleries （LZH： Twodimensional stuff. ） Yes – than I did with teaching and other projects. So as long as you do experimental art or media art， on the budget level you plus， minus， and the curators get more money than the artists. This is， we have to say， the truth… maybe not you， but I know a lot of people are very aware that every fucking secretary gets paid（the payment of the artist is last on the list） – they have a budget of 200，000 euros for a show， and there are 15 artists， and they say “sorry， we have no money”. It is clear that to keep the integrity of the art that I want to do， I have to say no to certain conditions， which means I need to reserve money. So I don’t have private money， and I have other jobs. I have a teaching job and I have a music job， I was in some commercial consulting stuff， I was in media consulting， in media art too. It’s always there， one of these jobs to finance the others that don’t bring in any money. For example， the cheese club yesterday didn’t bring in any money in the first three years （now it does）， because nobody was really into it and they thought it was too expensive . People think it’s too expensive to spend money for that in the art field， and the same goes for the video art： when we did the first video art festival in the beginning of the 80s， there was no fucking point to make money with it.

I mean， there was a gallery in the 70s – gallery Oppenheim– her collection is now in the Landes Museum in Bonn. She was with the de Appel in Amsterdam， the first people who bought video art in Europe. In the USA there are another 3 or 4 places， like Long Beach Museum， so from 5，000 artists you know how many of them have been bought from. And in this sense， it’s always that you have to invest at least 2， 3， up to 5 years into certain projects， before they kind of carry themselves along. And it’s always carried through a sponsor or something， which you do by yourself， and there are certain moments when they become adult， and they walk alone.

But if you rely on the system， the system’s gonna censor you. People know that if they work with my plans they can’t tell me what to do， so they’re afraid to work with me because I refuse if I don’t have my conditions. I’m not talking about money， because I’m bad at money management， but as for the content， they can’t tell me. But I know a lot of artists， when the sellers tell themdon’t do this style， don’t do that style， change it- they do it！

This is about pride， we MDT never change， we never wanted to change in that way. But we’re writing history in what we did， and I think for a lot of people we symbolise something like a dream come true： if you want it， you should， or can do it. （OR OBAMALIKE HAHA WE CAN DO IT ）

We wanted to transport a stone， and we didn’t think a lot beforehand， we said we wanted to bring it to Asia and we achieved it. This whole process of learning we made on the way， that was fantastic， and I think for everybody this was a fantastic experience. It’s a deeply philosophical and also educational experience to be permanently confronted in real situations with other cultures， and I wish this for other kids– that’s why I want to meet at least another 20 or 30 stones， and send them around the world with other people.

LZH： So where is the stone now？ Eventually？

MH： The stone is in New Delhi， it’s by the Austrian embassy. It was about two years in the temple in New Deli before it was on the river Ganges and it’s always been waiting to go to China. They kind of rebuilt the temple， so we had to take it away and put it back in the Austrian embassy（because Karl is Austrian）. And now we want to go China next year， and to continue this trip with the stone， and I think we will bring it to Beijing.

LZH： 我們或許應該把話題從中國的藝術市場轉移到你的作品上。我們知道你在80年代末期、90年代早期介入了中國的藝術環境。在德國的好幾個城市。而我對你在其它國家的個人實踐感興趣，比如德國的幾個城市。所以，讓我們聚焦于你和Karl Dudesek一起合作的“大石頭項目”（Bangkok Project），可以和我們分享一下這個項目的背景嗎？你如何為它命名，你們起初如何付諸實施，以及你們如何在資金上實現了這個項目？

MH： 我們的藝術家小組叫做Minus Delta T，這個名字的來源是一個用來計算將來可能發生的事件的數學形式，或者說，它的隱喻是 “未來的回聲”。這個名字的來源有些數學游戲或者哲學游戲的意味在里面（我們和一些哲學家與數學家進行了討論）。

我們1978年成立了藝術家小組，當時我們是一個表演藝術小組，或者說表演音樂藝術小組...當然，在那個時代，我們不是主流，至少對于觀眾來說，不是特別容易接受。這也是為何沒有能在常見的藝術場所進行表演的機會，我們進不去畫廊，我們太年輕，也還沒有進入公眾視野。所以我們做了一系列非公開的演出。那個時候我們必須經常旅行以找到演出場合，參加不同的音樂節，在我們自己的城市幾乎沒有得到演出方面的支持。我想大概是5-6個音樂節后，出現了不少插曲，當時的人們出于審查制度，在我們表演的時候切斷了電源。因此我們其實處在一個充滿的沖突的大環境里，這種沖突來自于審查制度，也來自于我們充滿了挑釁感的表演本身。……