Barry McGlashan, Benjamin Terrell, Matthias Dornfeld, Dirk Zoete, Heidrun Rathgeb, Renato Órdenes San Martín, Travis MacDonald, Sam Douglas, Susannah Martin, Rob Vetter, Lucas Pertile, Love Lundell, Margriet van Weenen, Ondrej Drescher, Dennis Rudolph, Nikolaus List, Daniel Thurau, Monika Michalko & Thomas Grötz
One circle (Here come the Suns) is followed, bound like the child to the mother, by another circle - the moon. After glistening light comes the night, but this must not be noiseless, lightless, restful and its movement suggests itself with the realization that when the night is deepest, the day is nearest!
12 people did enter the moon until now. Boulder. Dust. Wasteland. No clouds. Dark universe and more boulder. The moon objectively is not very exciting. All the details that Kepler and Galileo espied through their tube at 359,000 kilometers are true even if stepping on it. Nothing. Boulder.
Well man is luckily, not a reasonable being. It is even extraordinarily unreasonable, not to bother with the wonderful penchant for nothing ans boulder, and to continue wallowing in his fantasies, his myths and ideas, with which he explains the world to himself. And since he often dispenses with rationality, it is the inner world that is ordered. The moon has always had a very changeable assignment, sometimes it has to symbolize the feminine sometimes the masculine, sometimes it stands for purity and stability, but two lines further on it is not worth an oath. What a chaos! Wonderful. One should feel like adding more truths to this chaos, because the true world, the inner world does not care about rationality as a singular narrative, it, the inner world becomes truer in contradiction and in diversity.
There are thousands of stories about the moon and every single one is true and they all describe the world.
Many years ago in the high mountains I built up my small tent in the already fallen night on a meadow. It was far up in the mountains, where there are hardly any trees, but very large boulders adorned the meadow. I wanted to continue climbing the next day. Tired, I lay down in my sleeping bag, my head naturally close to the ground. At night I awoke up to a repetitive, dull, loud roar. A colossus had to move sedately across the meadow, as big as three houses. I sat up in the dark tent with a fright. After seconds of hesitation I opened the tent and stuck my head out. Gleaming The moonlit night shone brilliantly white, stones hummed darkly in front of the shimmering meadows and dark tree tops dipped into the white-blue night sky. In front of me the silver moon and above me the head of a gray horse, which was just as frightened as I was, he, the gray horse had never seen a human looking out of a stone and that’s probably what he thought my tent was. I was impressed by the white emissary of the moon, eating moon grass so carefully and closely around my sleep. I said goodbye and went back to sleep. I cant’t remember, whether I went higher or lower the next day, I cannot even tell, whether I dreamed the white horse or whether I was awake, only the certainty has remained, there is more going on at night than you think, a friendly hustle and bustle out there while we sleep!
Benjamin Terrell wrote the following about "Here Come the Suns", "As you read this, infinite orbits are spinning above us. ... Maybe the sun is just a hole in the sky through which light penetrates, and maybe the moon is really the sun in a cashmere coat."
Who knows? Birds, horses, moose, moon, sun, ... Moon stories for the Moon Child!