Lutz-Kinoy’s Loose Bodies

LUTZ-KINOY’s Loose Bodies was a two-day long exhibition, expanded cinema program, and series of performances on the occasion of the closing of Elaine - a project-space at the Museum für Gegenwarts Kunst in Basel, run by Tenzing Barshee, Nikola Dietrich, Hannah Weinberger and Scott Cameron Weaver from 2011 to 2013).

Featuring: Tenzing Barshee, Nikola Dietrich, Hannah Weinberger and Scott Cameron Weaver Adam Christensen, Jacob Korczynski, Kerstin Cmelka, Martin Ebner, Fabian Schöneich, Sandro Mazzoni, MAWI, Yael Salomonowitz, Anina Trösch, Pablo Larios, A G Cook, Sophie, LKW, Tobias Spichtig, Julia Feyrer, Tamara Henderson, Katja Mater, Fabrice Stroun, Dan Bodan.

NANCY:
Spill your guts.
Cam looked really uncomfortable when he finally said, I can’t stand my clothes anymore. It’s disgusting.

Clare exits.

Clare reenters wearing an entirely new outfit. There is something fringe at the bottom of the pants, it’s really misty smoky in the room but at the top of the pants there is this thing butt a gold clasp or button that’s capturing light, something shiny. It doesn’t matter period. It’s her stomach- belly identifiable midriff, catching all the attention. Super weird. Then its all leading up to a tube top tank top with spaghetti straps that meet like a halter top on her back. Move on.

Right when Clare enters the room, Cam says, oh FUCK again; signaling Clare to take off her top as he takes off his top, unbuttoned tummy teesh- irt doesn’t matter, it’s entirely inconsequential.

Nancy is also in the room. Reallly together.

It’s not that Clare is disappointed about leaving her positionappartment but she’s nervous about what’s coming next: Banking strategies, invest- ments, future options in education. Resources. Liquidation potentials.

CLARE:
My liquid asset.

Flashback. Cam’s topless, bootlicking. In the pillow-talk position leaning over a soft carpet bar sofa.

Somehow MLK got promoted from bouncer to barkeeper sans bottle privileges strictly conversational. Not sure if this is a bar. Ryddms. Kleenex. Let’s go somewhere more intimate. Bathroom. Lube creams. STD STD.
Turns out this isn’t a club. BAD decisions.

A COUPLE is bursting out of the front door and breathe the night air.

MAN:
A musical version? Who are they kidding?

WOMAN:
Thank God you wanted to leave.

Second COUPLE.

SECOND WOMAN:
Could you believe, Elaine? Talk about the walking dead.

SECOND MAN:
With the babysitter. We could have been having sex.

INT BACKSTAGE NIGHT

Application of cold cream (in circles) on MLK’s face. Removing all make-up. MLK’s best friend is roughrubbing his ff-shoulderneck area. MLK reaches and touches the fingers on his back. They’re not attached to anything. MLK is brushing more than ten fingers onto the floor. Nudging them with his feet. Small curved sausage-like slugs. Entirely pale without any red.

MLK:
Wrinkle, wrinkle, little star. Hope they never see the scar.

Bathwater ripples. SPILL GUTS.