David Bergé / Time Based Editions: Me, Le Corbusier, and friend

It’s 1911, and Charles-Édouard Jeanneret (who would later call himself Le Corbusier) embarks on a seven-month journey to “the Orient” with his friend August Klipstein. Initially traveling to complete their studies, they end up encountering themselves as they traverse and photograph new realities and places.

The audio component of Me, Le Corbusier, and friend is a “dialogue” between the two protagonists, a playful mise en scène by artist David Bergé that guides you through the visual material in your hands: their photographs, taken with a single shared camera on glass plates—an effort that seems almost unimaginable today. Cracks and imperfections create a sense of primitive authenticity, as though we’re present, in the light, with the camera. An archaic world emerges through layers of time.

As they attempt to explore and describe these layers, August and Charles-Édouard walk through parts of Istanbul destroyed by fire, linger by tombstones outside Belgrade, face a giant Orthodox priest in Greece, and photograph the sleek back of Hagia Sophia (not the obvious front). They naively encounter a battlefield marking the end of the Ottoman Empire. Throughout their journey, the characters build formative experiences, but also grow bored, lost, and bitten by strange insects. They try to assert control with the tools they share: their camera and a guidebook for Westerners.

Time-Based Editions’ ingenious new format, of which this book is the third iteration, offers “audio” and “visual” as separate elements, yet held together in the present through the physical synchronization of our hands. Together, we dive into the here-and-now of the page: printed photography brought to life by a soundscape that both guides and surrounds us.

During SPRING 2024, the second edition of Borderline Visible by Ant Hampton was presented, about which the Theaterkrant wrote: ‘a beautiful installation performance… an extremely captivating psychogeographical framework that is constantly enriched by Hampton’s searching mind and razor-sharp political anger.’