Nothing exis- @psychosay - Tumblr Blog

The long pink couch in Cy Twombly's apartment in Rome

Your "For You" page is a cage. It is a feedback loop designed to feed you the same chemically smooth, 4K content until your brain smooths out to match it.

I got tired of the "recommendation" engine deciding what counts as culture. So I spent the last six years hauling magnetic tape through the Prague underground to build an exit door.

TYKO:TV is a sovereign video vault. It is hundreds of hours of raw VHS footage—experimental readings, street fights, silence, and static—housed inside a custom-built, web-based CRT.

It exists because while governments might protect free speech, they don’t protect the distribution of it. We have to build our own archives. We have to preserve the noise that the algorithm tries to filter out.

Stop letting a robot curate your dreams. Come get lost in the static.

https://www.tykosay.com/tv

#net art vhs analog horror glitch art prague liminal spaces web design fuck algorithms digital sovereignty vaporwave tyko tv #retro #vintage #vhs aesthetic #crt #vaporware #found footage #weirdcore #web art #undergound #punk rock #punk

mtiziart

lascitasdelashoras

Ferdinand Bucina - Night View of Zizkov Roofs, Prague

Shuffle through films, readings, and sound in a CRT-style interface. Channels: OBJECT:PARADISE, David’s Sister, Tyko Say, and more.

TYKO : TV : A video vault of hundreds of hours of footage from the Prague underground

#vhs #crt #netart #digitalinstallation

schibborasso

KROTCH (issue #5) The KROTCH Magazine comes from Prague, Czech Republic is published under the OBJECT:PARADISE Manifesto which calls to make The Public Poetry Reading lowbrow, punkrock, and interdisciplinary.

psychosay

www.objectparadise.com/krotch

Charles de gaulle, January 5th

men posed smoking all vacant chapel like j’arrive a notre vieux departures et jésus enfin fatigue mon petite, you are but 15km from me, perhaps devouring a pain au chocolate and I am out of cigarettes, wishing i hadn’t given them all away as christmas gifts

I masturbated in your bed after you left, I could stay forever you said when closing the heavy victorian door, you’d come back perhaps you said and I would be naked waiting and ready and perhaps we could yawn again at the rising sun, the purple sky just outside

But I was hungry as a moment, and the winter spider in corner of room had spun her last web and outside after you left no moon was there only the sky hanging like a coat off my shoulders, and on the corner of Seymour and sycamore the old bakery had put out its old donuts and the pattern of rain patter was slapping the black plastic trash sack and the smell of piss came through the window

and the men outside were so vacant, grey alone and waiting all tumble and chapel like against the forbidden day