October 21, 2021

Airbag/14 Holes

During his residency at bb15 Lukas de Clerk met the local artist Sarah Rinderer. 14 fragments gives a glimpse into the experience. Video by Sara Piñeros

14 fragments by Sarah Rinderer
supporting Airbag/14 Holes by Lukas de Clerck at bb15

polyester fabric, slowly beginning to lift itself from the floor. an inflatable children’s game in which two players compete in moving a hovering ball in the constant air flow from one cone to the next green yellow blue red green yellow finally into a basket. now there are earplugs in it. 

tubes – glass clear – lead from the cones upwards, get tangled up, branch out into clusters. the tube’s ends connected to the heads of recorders with adhesive tape. 

little by little the air cushion grows diagonally into the exhibition space of bb15, at an angle of about 45° – the same angle the body and the recorder flute should form towards the ground. 

we sit down at the danube beach to talk about his work. the shadow of a tree on the ground, branching out, smaller and smaller. the way he brings the words to his lips: loosely, gently. before he got into art, he studied not being visible: hiding away into sound. intuitively, non-chalant, child-like almost. 

just listen 
flutter tongue fibrillation 
wind tunnel instrument 
mouthpiece macro improvisation 
machine room modulating 
floating hovering giant 
surround sound organ ordinary bagpipe dysfunctional dysharmonious 
continous drone 
pressure on one’s chest 


not all cones are connected to tubes and recorders. 
the airflow feels cool and surprisingly strong, when you hold your hand over the hole at the cone’s tip. 

(green yellow blue red             yellow blue) 

do you still have a recorder at home? what did you play on it? when? did you like it? how have you been taught that music should sound? and how long has your recorder been silent? for how many years have you not played? 
(questions for a warm, personal conversation) 

the sound of the danube. a recorder is supported by the lips and by the thumb of the lower, right hand. he stretches out his legs, tells me what supports his ideas from a musical perspective. the synthesizersounds by éliane radigue, by daphne oram, by delia derbyshire. the handling of an instrument that has never been heard before. 

not in a musical way  
pleura parasit  
oxygen whistling 
valves respiratory- 
machine breathing cycle  
system of (wind) pipes 
overtone bronchioles  
extraordinarily continuous 
the floor vibrating 
underneath the soles of my shoes 

(his international recorder flute asylum) 
alto soprano wooden plastic 
wood grain dull glossy missing chips of paint 
no longer completly white 
blue the two upper holes covered with black gaffa tape 
another one has the capital letters of its previous owner scratched into the wood 

te che te re le re 
di ri tell ell ell ell el le 

(to detune to disremember to unlearn to play) 


he moves his thumb up and down, fast 
above the fan 
the shaky vibrato 
of red polyester 

hardly any wind at the danube beach. traditional folklore music is inspired by nature, imitates the sounds of nature, he says. today – a motorboat pulling a water skier; he follows it with his eyes – we need to imitate the sounds of machines, become machines. 

now i’ve talked a lot. 
the cushion of air slowly begins to collapse, 
to fold like water 
light high sigh crackling, crumpling, wrinkling waves 
drowning in air 
my mouth feels really dry.  
at the danube beach he sinks backwards onto the grass 
the polyester fabric,  
back onto the floor of bb15’s exhibition space.