Within the crumbling square of Heilstätte Grabowsee’s main building, filled with memories, dripping with nostalgia, speaking through dark history, full of seriousness, reloaded with silliness, there’s camping, there’s even glamping, there’s a campfire and: there will be CAMP.

CAMP might serve as a subtle revolution, binarities exchanging saliva, an abundance of artificiality. During times where seriousness is more needed than ever we might pose ourselves the question: is all seriousness deemed to fail?

And, because that must be a rhetorical question, let’s embrace the joy of failing gracefully, with grand gesture, until we fall on a bed of feathers, until we make love to the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Are we finally able to erase the distinction between camping and art?

CAMP might serve as a window into the past. It might even serve as a driveway into the future reeking of our present tense’s gasoline.

“The hallmark of camp is the spirit of extravagance” – Susan Sontag, Notes on ‘Camp’

We beg your pardon, we never promised you a rose garden!

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