Pics ©by Zenvampires
Text ©by Zenvampires
Sounds ©by Zenvampires
Europe constantly speaks about crisis. Economic crisis. Political crisis. Cultural crisis. But perhaps the deeper problem is different. Perhaps Europe no longer fully understands itself.
And this should not become a philosophical discussion. Even if philosophy silently shaped the world we now live in.
For decades, European societies believed in larger narratives. Progress. Stability. Collective identity. But postmodernity slowly dissolved these certainties. Not through revolution, but through fragmentation.
The fragmented society
Today, people no longer live inside one shared reality. They live inside timelines, algorithms, identities and temporary emotions. Everyone speaks, yet genuine communication becomes rare.
Meanwhile institutions still function as if society remained unchanged. Politics believes in control. Media believes in attention. Everything becomes performance.
Communication becomes branding.
Culture becomes content.
Identity becomes productivity.
And perhaps this is why Europe feels exhausted. Not because people have too little freedom. But because freedom without meaning eventually becomes emptiness.
A different possibility
Yet this fragmentation also creates a possibility.
Europe now has the chance to rebuild meaning differently than before. Not through rigid ideologies or nostalgic myths, but through human connection, culture and openness. People still need belonging. Art. Silence. Community.
Perhaps Europe’s next challenge is not technological or economic, but human: to create societies capable of diversity without losing cohesion.
And maybe that is Europe’s real strength — the ability to constantly reinvent itself without losing its humanity.
Today we’d like to tell you about two events coming up this summer. First, the Malta Festival in Poznan, which has drawn mixed reviews. In today’s Germany, such a situation (differing opinions on a single matter) would likely be viewed negatively. People here tend to prefer clear-cut evaluations. But when everything gets “five stars,” that’s probably a bad sign in the arts. I’m curious to see how the festival develops. June 21–28. Here the link.
The second festival is the New Horizons Film Festival. If you don’t want to or can’t travel to Wroclaw, you can also stream the films. A little later. July 23–August 2. Here.
We’ll report on it if we’re there.
Text © by Zenvampires
Pic © by ChatGPT
What is music really about? More broadly, what is art about? Recently, the focus has been on whether music is created by humans or made by machines. This distinction is important not only for the viewer, but also for the artist. It’s not just because machines are supposed to appeal to our emotions. After all, AI operates through repetition. With AI-generated music, for example, we get an essence of what came before. We’ve already written about this here.
So, what is music really about? Or art? Sometimes, it’s about the final product. A concept. Only humans can conceive of concepts, implement them, and present them. Angine de Poitrine does exactly that. They’re carrying out a Dadaist project, which, in times of war, still carries historical significance and reflects on where our civilization has ended up (we sometimes forget that Dadaism emerged during World War I).
But be warned. Angine de Poitrine plays math rock. It’s not for everyone.
Enjoy!
I can’t remember the context or when it was. Someone sent me an essay by Alain on reading books. Well. It’s about how books might make us feel depressed, and how we should go out into nature instead. Apparently, nature calms us down when it enters our brains through our eyes. How lovely.
I don’t want to engage in cultural relativism here, but I’m interested in the dichotomy between ‘nature’ and ‘intellect’. For one thing, we don’t have ‘nature’. I don’t know what it is. This is because we live in the here and now, and at least as far as European ‘nature’ is concerned, it is domesticated. Without roaming animals, we speak more of a cultural landscape than nature. Of course, I can observe ‘nature’. But what I’m usually looking at springs from the minds of landscape architects, farmers and urban planners.
We now come to another point: the Fibonacci numbers. In other words, we are not focusing on the numbers themselves, but rather on what their discovery signifies. After all, in its development — at least as far as the Golden Ratio is concerned — nature follows precisely this pattern. The forms of ‘nature’ correspond to this pattern, to these numbers. So did nature spring from Fibonacci’s mind?
Ultimately, we can take this idea further by citing Wiener and Deleuze. Wiener compares our perception to a machine. This means that, as humans, we can be both machines and nature. This is where the problem of dichotomy arises. Perhaps we should avoid it. Instead, let’s take a bike and a book and read in nature. Then everything becomes one.
Films are journeys. They are journeys into the past and into a different consciousness. They are journeys into the future. The question is always whether the travelers can bring the audience along. Are the landscapes right? And whether the journey itself is exciting enough.
How can the journey of a drug-addicted jockey who is about to become a father and is being pursued by the mafia be interesting? Who isn’t sure if his girlfriend loves him? Sure, it’s banal stuff. It’s interesting for horse lovers.
But a journey is conveyed through images. Landscapes. Through changes. It’s interesting that the story distances itself from the narrative. Yes, it is surrealistic. This surrealism appears to be a response to Maya Deren’s criticism that film is merely a reflection of theater.
Luis Ortega succeeds. He accomplishes this by wandering around Buenos Aires, embracing change, and diverting attention from the protagonist, who disappears over time.
Then it’s not just surreal; then it’s cinema.
El Jockey. No longer in theaters.
and the end of our civilization…
1.
In recent months, Sienna Rose’s name has become familiar to many music fans via streaming platforms. She has millions of monthly listeners and songs such as “Into the Blue,” “Safe With You,” and “Where Your Warmth Begins.” Her songs have also been featured on Spotify’s viral charts. But while her soulful R&B tracks are undeniably catchy, one question in particular is causing quite a stir: Is Sienna Rose human—or an AI creation?
So much for ChatGPT. Of course, it would be amusing to have an AI write about a potential AI. But let’s not go there.
2.
First, a clarification. What most of us call “artificial intelligence” are actually language models that scour the internet and reproduce words with a certain degree of probability that are likely to be correct. Therefore, the style and entire text are a combination of existing internet posts. Additionally, there are models programmed for music, images, and films. These models do not create new scenes but rather synthesize familiar voices, chords, and notes. Given the way such models work, a style—let alone a personal one—is not possible. It is a cybernetic model of feedback. However, since the human ear and mass taste are trained to recognize the familiar, AI-generated “creations” have a high probability of success.
3.
Regardless of who or what Sienna Rose is, AI-generated music consists of chords that the AI has been trained on. It has to learn before it can do anything, and as before, it is not creative; rather, it calculates probabilities. Rick Beato calls it outright theft, and, in a sense, it falls under intellectual property theft. ChatGPT writes:
“AI models are trained with existing music.”
The open question is whether the original artists were fairly compensated for this.
If an AI is trained in the style of thousands of R&B singers, who owns the result?
Additionally, AI-produced art does not contribute anything new to creativity. We are merely repeating what is already known.”
And that is where civilization ends. Not through AI agents, though.
P.S.
We initially considered using AI to generate the text. There are plenty of models available. Then we considered a mixture of the two. But then we decided it wasn’t funny. Writing is also faster than formulating prompts.
We’re back! And we’re bringing you a series of photos from Africa. In recent editions, we heard that there were no people in the photos. That Africa was empty. But Africa is not empty. This time, we have photos with people. Animals. Cities.
All pics ©by Zenvampires
As you may have noticed, we are currently on a short break. But don’t worry, we’ll be back soon with new ideas, texts, and music!
Enjoy the time in between! After all, it’s the spaces between letters, events, and years that really matter.
Wir präsentieren hier den Fragment eines Textes der Sammlung “African Diaries” von Yuki K. Yuki ist ein Musiker und Autor, der in Hamburg lebt.
Text ©by Yuki K.
Pics ©by Zenvampires
Zunächst eine mehrspurige Schnellstraße, auf der jeder schnell fährt. Es gilt Linksverkehr, wie in den meisten Ländern südlich des Äquators. Vielleicht erklärt das meine Verwunderung, als ich in das Taxi einstieg und das Lenkrad auf „meiner“ Seite vorfand. Kein Wunder, bei dieser Luft. Doch der Fahrer wirkte etwas schockiert. Es gilt Linksverkehr – dazu später mehr.
Dann die Stadt. Die Schnellstraße endet abrupt an einem Kreisverkehr, doch manchmal ist es klüger, sie vorher zu verlassen, um schneller voranzukommen. Zu den Pkw gesellen sich Lkw, ständig überfüllte Minibusse, Fußgänger am Straßenrand, TukTuks, die man sonst nur in Asien in solchen Mengen sieht, Motorräder, Radfahrer, Menschen, die mitten auf der Straße überqueren. Ab und an Polizisten, die das Geschehen beobachten. Geschwindigkeiten sind hier nicht zu erwarten. Wozu auch. Wir beeilen uns nicht. Und wenn wir uns beeilen, nähern wir uns nur unserem Tod. Niemand will sterben. Deshalb beeilen wir uns nicht.
Der Straßenbelag ändert sich. Noch immer Asphalt, doch von solcher Qualität, dass schnelles Fahren unmöglich wird. Dann verschwindet der Belag ganz. Normalerweise würde niemand diese Straße nutzen. Aber sie wurde gebaut. Angeblich von Chinesen – ich weiß es nicht. Wir fahren also auf einer unfertigen Straße, weichen Schlaglöchern aus. Europäern ist es verboten, mit einem Mietwagen Nairobi zu verlassen. Europäer haben ein Problem mit der Zeit. Sie hetzen.
Am Ende der Straße: der Strand. Das Meer. Der eigentliche Weg entlang der Swahili-Küste, wo Schiffe langsam und gelassen nach Indien segeln.