New split 12′ between two modular experimentalists stretching the world map for this split release. While Keith Fullerton Whitman comes with one of his more accessible / danceable piece to date, Floris Vanhoof had full reign to record a dark and hazy drone piece for the flipside. Using purely analog synths, both build very unique although complementary compositions.

Keith Fullerton Whitman – you already know him – is an American electronic musician who has recorded albums influenced by many genres, including ambient music, drone, electronic, drill and bass, musique concrète and krautrock.
Making music since the 90′, he started recording using his own name in 2001, and most of his work recorded today is under that name. He studied computer music at Berklee College of Music, where he was exposed to modern electronic music composition and synthesis. Whitman has released albums on many labels such as Edition Mego, PAN, Kranky, Root Strata, Planet Mu.

Connecting his many worlds, ideas and influences into highly personal pieces, everything Floris Vanhoof put his hands on turned into a highlight. Not only his solo LPs on Ultra Eczema and Kraak, but also an extensive list of stunning performances.
In his live shows Vanhoof links new visual ideas to his idiosyncratic musical performances in which homemade synthesizers, exceptional ebay acquisitions and a personal framework are forged into an impressive whole. One of the most versatile and creatively liberated artists in Belgium!

This record has been mastered and cut by Rashad Becker at Dubplates & Mastering in Berlin. Pressed on 180g black vinyl and packaged in a 3 colors silkscreened cover printed by Hannah Geise. Edition of 400 copies.

Keith Fullerton Whitman
“Jardin electronique”
1. Automatic Ping (3:00)
2. Automatic Melody (3:00)
3. Automatic Drums (3:00)
4. Automatic Drums with Melody (9:00)

Floris Vanhoof
5. De Karekiet van Karakas (19:31)
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Extract

Keith « Automatic Drums with Melody » by Keith Fullerton Whitman

Twenties Are Gone is sentimental journey written in the mist of a Finnish August of 2012.

It guides us as a reconstructed and DIY « carte du Tendre ». Reconstructed through the primordial forests – from the californian redwoods to the northern finland. A statement led by the experience of making sculptures and having drinks under a porch, drawing as making sandwiches, being in love and singing songs, watching tv shows and staring at sunsets. Both highly in the now and at the same time metaphysical.
The Twenties are gone. And thirties are opening their wild gates.

This is the first poetry book wrote by the visual and sound artist Felicia Atkinson.

Félicia Atkinson is born in 1981 in Paris, France. She lives and works in Brussels, Belgium. She is graduated with Honors from l’Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts de Paris and studied also anthropology and contemporary dance.

She is a visual artist, an experimental musician and the co-publisher of the independent imprint Shelter Press.

Her paintings, drawings, sculptures and musical compositions are mostly abstract. Her work takes its sources from the American tradition of painting (Morris Louis, Cy Twombly, Richard Tuttle) and from avant-gardes figures who worked on chance and randomness (Fluxus, John Cage, La Monte Young…) as much as feminist figures in music and art.

« Thinking about ‘shelter’ and the idea of ‘home’, I re-read a book I have called « Farming, Always Farming » that my family’s publishing company printed in 1972. It’s a nice book of text and images of traditional farms in the area I’m from. I adapted the title from that. So, this book is composed from photos of the book I took while reading it one afternoon. I added a coarse halftone dot over it all to obscure the text and reduce the imagery to abstract shapes and tones. »
N.G. march 2013

Nicholas Gottlund is a photographer and bookmaker. He founded and runs the publishing house Gottlund Verlag that produces limited edition artist books with contemporary photographers.
He currently lives and works in Los Angeles, California and in Kutztown, Pennsylvania.

« 16. Pages 38-43″ by Ben Vida


« 15. Pages 8-9″ by Ben Vida


« 7. Pages 20-21″ by Ben Vida

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This record will be reissue on vinyl later this year on Shelter Press

Second model of Shelter Press totebag.
The visual includes only our logo.

Edition of 50 copies
Silkscreened on organic cotton — Printed in Brussels

Je Suis Le Petit Chevalier’s Dark Morse is an exclusive lost tape inspired by the short story The Angel Esmeralda written by Don Delillo. Following two LPs and bunch of tapes dropped last year, this new output is her most whispering beat orientated material to date.

Dark Morse is a tabu hidden at the end of a lost road in the suburbs, a pile of crawling concrete, burried under sub basses, broken rhythms, drunken lullubies for blind dogs.

Je Suis Le Petit Chevalier whispers here holy encounters with dark shades moving at dawn, hoarse prayers, slum saints and never growing ghosts children….


—

 » Sister Jan said, I don’t know.
Of course you know. You know. You saw her.
I don’t know what I saw.
You know. Of course you know. You saw her. »

Don Delillo, The Angel Esmeralda.

A1. Drying in Abou Dhabi
A2. Esmeralda on the lake
A3. Broken drum

B1. The names
B2. The war
B3. The slum nun

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Extract

‘Esmeralda On The Lake’ (SP015/R5) by Je Suis Le Petit Chevalier

New LP from Ensemble Economique, aka Brian Pyle, 1/2 of Humboldt avant abstractionists Starving Weirdos and RV Paintings. We’ve long loved the SW’s sprawling rhythmic dronescapery, and on his own, Pyle explores similar sonic territory, but Pyle’s approach sans partners seems to be more dense and dark, caustic and abrasive, the rhythmic element balancing the atmospheric elements, like here on the title track, which spreads out over all of the first side. A thick, swirling low end thrum oozes and undulates, it’s a hazy blurred rumble, over which Pyle layers heaving shards of crunch, thick throbs, deep bell-like tones, rhythmic machine gun stutters, all of which pile up and overlap, creating a soft cacophony of clatter and crunch, chug and churn, a strangely haunting, and sorta noisy, almost industrial creepscape, that sounds like some weird hybrid of Wolf Eyes, Philip Jeck and Umberto performed by some strange robotic minimalist chamber ensemble. A swirling, heady, and darkly psychedelic barrage of loops and rhythms, layers and textures, mesmerizing and intense.
The flipside is another permutation of Pyle’s abstract beat laden drones, another thick swirling morass of sitar-like buzz and sci-fi synth squelch, this time the beats buried, little flurries of stutter and shuffle, squalls of glitchy tangle, more coloring the proceedings than driving them. The last track is a tense soundtracky stretch of layered buzz, haunting melody, a sprawl of pulsing high end over deep ominous rumbles, like the music from the scariest moment in some lost Italian giallo, stretched out into minutes instead of seconds, all tension, no release, brooding and intense, haunting and mesmerizing, fantastic stuff. (AQ)

A1. The Vastness Is Bearable Only Through Love
B1. All That Remains Is Dark Sky
B2. Something New Is Happening

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Extracts

The Vastness Is Bearable Only Through Love
by Ensemble Economique

The Statement Archive is an ongoing library of artist statements that is shared each time we do a book event as well as on our online store. This project is slowly building a library of texts wrote by artists, musicians, and curators. Inspired by the conceptual art free press, this printed matter has to be shared, discussed and spread away.

000. Shelter Press
001. Sophie Nys
002. Martine Syms
003. Claire Chesnier
004. Jefre Cantu Ledesma
005. Erik Van Der Weijde
006. Félicia Atkinson
007. Landon Metz

008. Mélanie Bonajo & Joseph Marzolla
009. Christelle Gualdi
010. Terence Hannum
011. Sabine Hagmann
012. Seth Fluker
013. David Horvitz
014. Suzanna Zak
015. Lindsey Bull

About the book

Girls lying on concrete disonaurs are facing obsolete neon signs.
Broken, knocked down, abstract, discarded, left there.
The girls are naked, in black and white, static. The neons are coloured, saturated like comic strip boxes.
Prehistoric monsters, mysterious beauties follow and merge with relics of modern cities. Metals, skins and stones collide.
Pages unattached slide and mix to deceive time and order.

—

About the artist

Born in Paris in 1977, Camille Vivier started her photography career as an assistant
in Purple magazine.
After studying at the Grenoble Fine Arts School and Saint Martins, she dedicated herself entirely to photography and works at the same time in the art and fashion worlds. In 1998, she was awarded the photography prize at the 12th Hyères Festival. In 2002, she was awarded the Villa Medicis international grant. She has contributed to various magazines, including: I-D, Dazed&Confused, Another Magazine, Numéro, Purple Magazine, Double Grey, Crystallized, Ten, and Self Service. She’s collaborated with brands such as Stella McCartney, Martin Margiela, Cartier, Le Monde d’Hermès, and Isabel Marant amongst others.
Her work has been exhibited in several galleries and institutions abroad as well as in France, including the CAPC Bordeaux (“Jean-Luc Blanc/Opera rock”), Espace Electra (“Le Voyage intérieur”), Galerie Kamel Mennour, Maison Européenne de la Photographie (“Enquête d’identité”), and during the Rencontres de la photographie d’Arles.

Text

“These girls? Their curves sketch infinity; their hollows end in, wisps of flesh, dark at times; their eyes pierce the image when they reach you. Waxy bodies drawing the image towards a less synthetic century. Artificial?

Bodies are framed, embedded and enclosed in a photograph. Caught in between limited
spaces: in the depths of a boulder, on a rocky edge, on the top of a shelf. Impossible to escape. Bodies and curios end their way here: still lives aiming at anthropomorphic shapes. In a haze of orange, green, yellow or blue—everything surfaces and evokes the colors of ancient masters.

Another fact: these images are noisy. Noise, a misguiding word that silences light, and nourishes black and white for a richer silver print. These selfish pictures, pose, freeze out of a storyline. But they take everything they can from the present: urban oddities, the wanderings of a contempary eye, and fragments of a no longer ostentatious luxury. These images, they steal everything: remnants of forgotten French films, some Garrel, some Rivette—but there is no Amour Fou, only an imposed distance. Are they found images?
They don’t care about their times, because they curl up—in the city, in wilderness, in a studio or in a forsaken interior. They become a new kind of daguerreotype. It takes us the past to progress.
Light as feathers, round as breasts, these images are voluptuous, straightforward, they swallow everything. A sentence by Henry Michaux fits them well: “In the warm mist of a young girl’s breath I found a place…”.

Fabrice Paineau