The radiograms of Marie Wintzer are absurdist bits of high drama which mimic the hysterical tone of our media and at the same time make perfect sense. The lack of Kale Rooting Hormone could, plausibly, be the turning point in the collapse of our tenuous grasp on the planet. The internet sometimes feels like it has encapsulated all of human experience (or at least things favored by algorithms) to be "boiled down" into a byte sized pixel. Christian Cooke of the Canada de Los Alamos think tank has called the internet "the wonderkiller" and so it is. Empirical matters can be settled at the kitchen table with a few clicks. No more wondering when "Brown Sugar" was released. No escaping the bust size of the Kardashians whoever they are. Less empirical matters receive short shrift, however, to the point where the next generation may not even wonder about things that only end in more wonder. The algorithms call the tune. Wintzer's Radiograms are wake up calls that invite us to see the wider world of magic at the intersection of circumstance and chance.
Other Radiograms recall the cut ups of Gysin and Burroughs, seemingly random crises thrown into a blender, revealing the workaday lurch from "swollen feet" to "grievous bodily harm." This too makes the sense of nonsense.
Wintzer's work "No Futurlututu" could be regarded as an incidental piece except for its implication that Wintzer is a self-admitted nihilist. Though Wintzer may dabble in the trendy apocalyptic porn of say a, David Stafford, she cannot suppress a bouyant spirit and an irrepressible sense of humor. She is not a nihilist. She believes in art.
Thank you, Marie.