Melanie Bonajo's work perceives the gallery space as a network of interdependency and care. By introducing almost extinct animals as residents of the exhibition halls, she creates the possibility of interspecies rendezvous: In a desperate attempt to avoid their near extinction they all try to have sex with each other in order to surpass their destiny, procreating the ultimate hybrid. The humanoid visitor is forced to share their physical space with these mythical beast, knowing all too well that their existence might soon only remain nothing but a fleeting dream. Animals may look at the art exhibited and are to be respected for doing so.




Theresa B├╝chner's performative practice takes the displacement of a peculiar tree as point of departure. The Chorus Tree, which is only naturally generated in a faraway dimension is introduced to the White Cube within a specific set of parameters that still allow it to thrive. The work poses a demonstration of the artist's power inside the academic institution: it allows for the facilitation of an outlandish species, not in its genuine territory, but inside the strict confinement of the exhibition space, where it spreads within the boundaries of its potential.




Stefan Cantante's work evokes the notion of consumerist vertigo in an ever changing interplay of expectations and reality. Like an It-bag his mosaic wall carries itself into a pattern of oblivion, yet still persuades you into buying it.




The practice of artist Lola Mae (2007) establishes an ephemeral comprehension of art institutions and their own fragile performativity. A giant heart made of glass is exposed to be inevitably conjoined with the gallery's infrastructure. The bottom of the structure reveals bare soil and ore veins, the latter specifically being the very same resource that is required to craft the glass object. This massive, yet seemingly unstable apparatus lays bare a fated production cycle; one that ironically places the aware work under its obligation, regardless.



Mila Slominsky's monumental work traverses the interplay of culture and nature and concepts of masculinity and femininity. Her practice is deeply concerned with the socio political impact of the enigma of creation and the inherent violence that is attached to the idea of redemption. Reflecting the irony of a monument to nature's cornucopia built inside a voxel simulation, Mila Slominsky's land-artwork denies the visitor to partake in creation's splendor. Being Lead through a system of wooden tunnels the visitor is confronted with ominous instructions and faux birch trees. Upon leaving the tunnel one may gaze upon a sprawling paradise which is, however, completely inaccessible. Although salvation is at hand, it shall not be granted unto you.

Her second work consists of a phallic monument erected within the institution's yard green. It is a stoic metaphor for Minecraft's deeply concerning political framework. Slominsky claims: "Of the innards of mother earth, mined by children, we build a machine that can simulate all possible things, only to let it simulate a world to mine (!), a nature that awaits being turned into a system, a machine, a civilized space. It shall be a large phallus made of white concrete blocks, that, like a fountain spouts water, spouts pickaxes, which are Minecraft's signifier of privilege. He who swings the pickaxe shall reshape the earth."

Mila Slominsky is an Artist and a Mystic Teacher. She was born in 1899 in Yekaterinburg, Russia. She died in 1937 while returning from a visit to Germany in the Hindenburg catastrophe of Lakehurst NJ, fulfilling a prediction she had made in 1928. 2017 she was accidentally summoned by two art students during sexual intercourse. Since then she partakes actively in the art scene and has already become a renowned phenomenon.





In his work Philip Ullman calls forth the beam of light that christianity imposes on all things deemed fertile. Alas, his is not a steady stream of divinity but a flickering exchange of light and dark, an oscillating force referencing the complicity of both faith and mortality.




Sonja Yakovleva's work consists of large-scale lingerie cutouts and an aquarelle titled "How to treat jellyfish stings right". In this fictional scenario displayed in her painting, a relation between the materiality of Pamela Anderson's swimsuit and sexy lingerie is established. Both are pervious to fluids, though the lycra swimsuit reveals less skin. The lingerie, however demands a sight where our gaze has no aim yet sees through.




Robert Yang's work The Tearoom is "a (free) historical public bathroom simulator about anxiety, police surveillance, and sucking off another dude's gun." The Mythical Institution commissioned a video still of the game to adorn the walls of its novel, gender-neutral toilet pavilion, which has previously been erected for the sole purpose of adequately displaying Yang's work.

Robert Yang about his work:
"[...] police still target men who have sex with men -- and in video game land, I still have to deal with Twitch banning my gay games by secret trial as if they're the fucking game police. So to appease this oppressive conservative gamer-surveillance complex, I have swapped out any pesky penises in my game for the only thing that the game industry will never moderate nor ban -- guns. Now, there's nothing wrong with guys appreciating other guys' guns, right?"