Iris Andraschek :
District Administration Building Gmünd

At four spots in the stairwell hands sculptured from neon glass had been mounted. They point in various directions. When turned on, the neon hands are lit in white. The walls are painted with a reflecting, shiny varnish. A simple circuit makes the light blink and pulsate in varying rhythms.

"Holding hands, the two stroll by shop windows and whisper suggestions to each other on what they should buy. He draws away his hands, almost as if casually trailing it. All of a sudden, Marrell lays his hand on her shoulder. One had already hesitantly reaches for her, but then flinches. His hand stops. I run with her, hold here hand, drag her through the bracken. She is only half awake because of the tablet I gave her so that she would not cry or say anything what could give us away. She does not know where she is.
Then four, five, six and my hands begin to tremble. I turned around and saw a man whose face was one big scar and who held small bent instruments in his hand, tools for probing and for cutting. It is a luxury to just life the heavy white wings and the veil, a luxury to just be able to feel one’s own hands. When I drew the hands and the large breasts I really had to come. So I hurried back to my brown marble shower."

T. Capote, 'The Silver Jug'; M. Atwood, 'The Maid’s Report'; J.G. Ballard, 'The Catastrophe Zone'; I. Möller, 'Ein Schmetterling aus Surinam'; E. Jelinek, 'Die Klavierspielerin'; J. Ellroy, 'The Black Dahlia'; N. Baker, 'Vox'; H. Lobnig; I. Andraschek