Niklas TalebDream again of better GenerationenvertragJune 25 - August 14, 2020Opening days:Thursday, June 25, 12-8pmFriday, June 26, 12-8pmSaturday, June 27, 12-8pmDue to the Corona pandemic we can only allow a number of 6 people visiting the gallery at the same time. Please wear mouth and nose protection and keep a distance of at least 1.5m to others. Only visit the gallery if you feel healthy. Last months lived under the sway of an unspecified pandemic: high-strung, irritable, unnecessarily confused. I see myself in the hospital, otherworldly on sedatives. “I have the feeling for perhaps the first time in my life that I can simply 'be'. I no longer have to push myself to do anything, to prove anything. I can just sit on the bed and be."1 Assured by the statistical certainties of living my best Leitkultur life, it’s no accident that each morning is greeted by familiar faces, family, and friends, that each evening I expire into clean, white sheets again. But again, I’m not there. I’m here, pleading with an insurance provider not to cut my coverage over overdue fees accumulated in income-free months—pleading for my supply of antiretrovirals. I’d love to “be” but can’t, so instead I forget. In the evenings, I do my best to expire into an insatiable series of strangers. In the mornings, I wonder whether it’s an accident that I haven’t expired in a border camp, an accident that I probably have more than 8 minutes and 46 seconds left.From here, family photos seem pretty complicated, which is what Niklas Taleb’s most recent photos are. Not only do they signify the perpetual order of this world, but of the medium of photography itself. Already in 1965, it was “clear that photographic practice only exists and subsists for most of the time by virtue of its family function or rather by the function conferred upon it by the family group”; clear that “the need for photographs and the need to take photographs… are felt all the more intensely the more integrated the group and the more the group is captured at a moment of its highest integration.”2 Integrated: by a slip of the translated tongue, the genre of family photography is not only the idealized image of bourgeois respectability, but also of belonging and citizenship as such. That’s 1965, but what about now? Excerpt from a text by Stanton Taylor_____________________1 Moyra Davey, Long Life Cool White, p. 81.2 Pierre Bourdieu, Photography: A Middle-Brow Art, p. 19.