Note 1
Sociologist Max Weber refused treatment at Swiss resorts. He was going through a mental crisis and found the mountain landscape “too dramatic”. However, the scenery at Alpenhof is more reminiscent of a romantic comedy than a drama; as the sunrise comes, the wind forgets the secrets of the night.
Note 2
There are four of us—artists assigned female at birth—who have come to Alpenhof this autumn of 2024. The study of people is no less emotional than the study of books. Yet, amateur anthropologists like myself must always remain attentive to their own emotions.
Note 3
The library unfolds through playful experiences. The games offered by the shelves include: spotting the first book you see, freestyle browsing, journeying among topics. But the potential players are the most fun. We exchange books and allow each other to cross the boundaries of our interests.
Note 4
Scholar Giuliana Bruno describes the phenomenon of Baroque allegorical maps (circa the 17th century) coming alongside the social needs of emotional discourse. She notes that these maps seem like early feminist board games, served to cultivate societal openness and vulnerability.
Note 5
Melancholy is social, melancholy is female, melancholy is terrestrial.
She lies between inspiration and apathy, like the Land of Emotions.
My friend asks, “Is it depression?” No, my dear, it is a landscape.
Note 6
The short warm period in October is called the same in both Russian and German: the summer of older ladies. Lovely.
Note 8
Some of the toponyms on the Map of Melancholy—Sensitivity, Nervousness, Burnout, Fatigue, Overstrain, Spleen, Boredom, Insomnia, Horror, Confusion, Depression, and Acedia—are taken from Karin Johannisson’s book Spaces of Melancholy.
Note 9
Frankly, I have problems defining emotions. They go beyond language. Perhaps that’s why I build a map of melancholy using books as associations. So many new feelings have arrived nowadays, and I’m still barely dealing with the oldest ones.
Note 10
Got a crush. A photo of a crashed car from the book 100 Notfallsituationen und lebensrettende Massnahmen was the first thing I noticed. This book is an empathy test and it seems I failed it.
Note 11
Alexandra Kollontai, a Russian revolutionary and ideologist of free love, writes to her lover:
“I want to know that you are happy. Our relationship is strange! We could be ‘des bons camarades,’ and you know it—I have a lot of ‘good’ warmth for you, really. That’s why I suggest you remember me even when you don’t have time for ‘women’. I shake your hand in a friendly manner.”
Note 12
Below the slope on which Alpenhof stands lies a valley that resembles an exemplary board game map. Beyond the valley, mountains rise, concealing from view all the land to the east.
Sara Culmann (she/any pronouns) is a visual artist based in Amsterdam. She works with video, animation, and games and creates associative narratives where technology, humans, and more-than-human beings influence one another politically and evolutionarily.
During her residency, she explored playable approaches to researching the library and created The Map of Melancholy, an installation in the form of tabletop game map, that presents a personal journey guided by books associated with the range of emotions. The map is inspired by the historical salon board game Carte de Tendre (1654-61), which depicts the thorny path of tenderness as envisioned by individuals of that era.
October 2024
Text + Fotos: Sara Culmann
I grew up in the catholic Alps. 1990s. Working-class family. There were no lesbians there, they didn’t exist. I’m not even sure if the word was part of my vocabulary. My queer awakening, often referred to as coming out, came much later. It probably would have happened sooner if I had had role models.
The lack of queer examples I describe is not just a biographical experience but a reflection of a societal system that excludes certain individuals from historical narratives. In my work, I engage with archives and the gaps they present regarding queer realities in the Alpine and rural areas.
What is a library if not an archive? In the Andreas Züst Library, I searched for these gaps to fill, rewrite or correct. I looked for codes and searched between the lines for lesbian semiotics. I wrote letters, mostly to people who are already gone. The letter, as a method of these additions, allows me to – in a speculative way – engage with those people rather than discuss them, while also addressing these narrative gaps collectively. In the obvious delay in response, absence is revealed – another blank space that must be borne. Yet it is precisely in these gaps that new realities may unfold.
The letters are printed on filigrane paper and have been activated through a reading at the open studio at the end of the residency. They will remain in some books in the library as an expansion of the collection.
October 2024
Text + Fotos Nr. 1-5 : Alizé Rose-May | Foto Nr. 6: Flavia Bienz
During Jiaxi Han’s residency, her creative process followed principles found in D.T. Suzuki’s books on Zen in the library, particularly the idea that Zen deals directly with reality—not with concepts, abstractions, or logic, and that Zen reveals truths in the most concrete forms, grasped through appearance and intuition.
Over the four weeks, Jiaxi Han gathered images from the books of crop circles, weather signs and diagrams, and patterns from the artist’s hometown Miao culture and local Appenzeller folk art and craft. Using ink on Chinese rice paper, she transformed these into about 150 small sketches. This approach which merges the medium from the artist’s traditional culture with patterns from different cultural backgrounds creates a visual dialogue.
The sketches evolved according to visual relationships—similarities, contrasts, and transformations—between images, much like the logic in the dream Freud described, where meaning is carried through visual connections rather than linguistic structures.
The artist also created short poems and practiced ensō during the residency. While the poems do not strictly follow the haiku form, they capture moments, people, and the surrounding nature with directness and immediacy.
Jiaxi Han’s residency work drew from various books spanning meteorology, UFOs, crop circles, ethnography, Zen, poetry, and ghost stories. She drifted naturally between these topics, drawing unexpected connections and envisioning new ways of narrating the library’s collections. The resulting sketches serve as groundwork for her future, larger works and provide a foundation for discussing specific discourses, greatly benefiting the artist’s ongoing practice.
Some of these sketches will be exhibited in Bacio Collective Bern in a group show from Nov 9 – Dec 8, 2024.
October 2024
Text + Fotos: Jiaxi Han
‘Mit Wolken gehen möchte ich wandern’ (I want to walk with clouds) is the title of the exhibition of paintings by Karl Uelliger at the Open Art Museum in St. Gallen (5.9.24-23.2.25). The motto fits in with the residency of walking artist Marie-Anne Lerjen, artist in residence in October 2024, who faced the weather on the same route (almost) every day. And this changes spectacularly on the St. Anton. In the spirit of sensuous geography, it was about immersing oneself in the place with all senses. What influence does the weather have on the walking body? How do the weather and the walking body interact? How does the weather affect the body? Working indoors with books, including weather observations from the Andreas Züst library, deepened the experience. The ongoing climate catastrophe, which will have a further impact on our weather, forms the backdrop to the exploration of the weather. On the occasion of the residencies’ open studios, Marie-Anne Lerjen invited to a group walk: ’Point of Weather. A Walk’ (24.10.24).
Marie-Anne Lerjen is a walking artist from Zurich (Switzerland). Since 2011 she has been working under the label of “lerjentours. Agency for Walking Culture”. Her interest is in walking as a method to gain embodied knowledge about places, spaces, things, and notions.
October 2024
Text: Marie-Anne Lerjen
Fotos: Marie-Anne Lerjen, Flavia Bienz
This part-inventory, part-essay, part-chronicle weaves together textual and visual references, fragments of literature and the outtakes of the daily landscape in the form of a video commentary on some of the lesser known scientific manuscripts of the past: day-to-day life at the residency is observed both through the lens of history and from the lookout of the present moment, with the library and the hotel being at its visual epicentre.
The artists Katrin Keller and Mia Ćuk have been studying and collecting fragments of cosmological fallacies and confluences of scientific and religious imaginaries that marked the prolific literary output of the 17th-century Jesuit scholar, an eccentric polymath and a disputed innovator Athanasisus Kircher (1602-1680). Emphasizing the poetic capacity of epistemic uncertainties, scientific misconceptions and speculative theories passed on as facts, the research is inspired by Kircher’s two scholarly works sourced at the Andreas Züst library: a strange encyclopedic textbook titled “Mundus Subterraneus”, a peculiar atlas of the natural world and its inner workings, and “Iter Extaticum Coeleste”, a cosmological treatise presented in the form of a celestial dialogue unfolding on a galactic journey.
The video piece is at once an assemblage of working material- books, notes and references being used and discarded in the process of research and a self-reflexive account on the hesitant nature of creating the work.The palimpsest of squences is accompanied by a narration- a mediated dialogue between the two artists discussing the possible directions of the project/ a dialogic rehearsal which comprises the elements of the history of science, religious misticism, natural philosophy and postmodern art, often in a self-satirizing way.
April 2024
Text+Fotos: Katrin Keller, Mia Ćuk
The absent has always been present in the library. The collection was left behind by the collector Andreas Züst and works by itself. But what is a collection without the collector?
During the four weeks and already months before the residency I am dealing with the subject of loss. I am specifically interested in approaching disappearance – led by personal experience but also by the fact that we live in an increasingly lively time of change. I wonder how we can approach mortal process and loss and how they become visible. Various processes of transience also open up a completely different view on all living things. And that one cannot be separated from the other.
In addition to researching the literature in which I explore the topic philosophically, psychologically, medically and lyrically, I also develop my own linguistic dialogue.
Hannah Grüninger is an artist based in Zurich. She works mainly with photography, language and installation.
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Das Abwesende ist in der Bibliothek immer schon präsent. Die Sammlung wurde vom Sammler Andreas Züst zurück und gewissermassen sich selbst überlassen. Was aber ist eine Sammlung ohne die, den Sammler:in?
Während vier Wochen und bereits im Vorfeld der Residency beschäftige ich mich mit dem Thema des Verlusts. Dabei interessiert mich die Annäherung mit Verschwindendem. Dies aus persönlichen Erfahrungen und weil wir in Zeiten enormer Veränderungen leben. Mich nimmt Wunder, auf welche Art wir uns sterblichen Prozessen und Verlusten annähern können und wie sie sichtbar werden. Durch verschiedene Prozesse der Vergänglichkeit eröffnet sich auch ein ganz anderer Blick auf alles Lebendige. Und dass das eine nicht vom anderen zu trennen ist.
Nebst einer Literaturrecherche, in der ich das Thema philosophisch, psychologisch, medizinisch und lyrisch umkreise, entsteht eine eigene sprachliche Auseinandersetzung.
Hannah Grüninger ist Künstlerin und wohnt in Zürich. Sie arbeitet hauptsächlich fotografisch, sprachlich und installativ.
April 2024
Text+Fotos: Hannah Grüninger
During the period of this one month residency the following research proposal was completed by the Oliver Griffin
Archive. Researching Evidence of Extraterrestrials in Switzerland. Primarily looking into literature the Semjase
Silver Star Centre (S.S.S.C) & Free Interest Group Universal (F.I.G.U). Organizations based in Switzerland and
run by ‘Billy’ Eduard Albert Meier-Zafiriou a Swiss national. A an extraterrestrial contactee, who is responsible for
there two spiritual semi-religous international organizations. His ideas are based on some of some of the clearist
photographic images of UFO/ UAP activity known to this day, taken between 1975 to 1979, which he took
personally. This photographic ‘proof’ has be come part of our subconscious foundation of popular belief in what we
expect ‘Aliens’ to look like and can be seen with popular music to television series. Along with H.R.Giger, have
influenced how we think of extraterrestrial life in the extremes. All this information is readily available in the
retracted report that can be found with the Bibliothek Andreas Zust, Appenzellian St. Anton.
Also during this period of time, the following organisation was founded:
Extraterrestrial Material Recovery Unit (E.M.R.U.)
Motto: “You shoot em’ down, were pick em’ up”
This covert unit was created for the exploration of humanity & artistic fascination. In the hope that in the future we
are in contact & retrieval of extraterrestrials & extraterrestrial materials from other world. In a peaceful and intelligent
way outside of Government or Military intervention & control. In the hope to subconsciously info public & popular
culture positivity. Founded at the Bibliothek Andreas Zust, Appenzellian St. Anton on the 9th May 2024, within the
idea to collect physically evidence to backing up creative theories out side of the public eye and to avoid universal
paranoia. Application is through invitation and peer review as in accordance of secrecy of the materials archived.
April 2024
Text+Fotos: Oliver Griffin
Do you also have two same books on your bookshelf?
The first time when we stepped into the Andreas Züst library, we realized that there were a lot of duplicate titles in the collection. In a public library, it’s quite common to have multiple copies of popular titles, so that many readers can borrow them at the same time: one could imagine a shared or simultaneous reading experience happening in the region, without all participants’ awareness of it. But, as we all know, this library was built on the basis of Andreas Züst’s lifelong collection of books. Do people usually buy two copies of the same book? Why would Mr. Züst have so many duplicate books in his collection? For collecting’s sake (Kenneth: actually I can really relate to that)? Or perhaps he also wanted to share his books with someone else? The question always lingers in our hearts and appears every time we enter the space.
“How about we just find out all the duplicate titles in the library?” Toward the end of our month-long residency at the Andreas Züst library, the two of us had still been working on our individual projects separately. While discussing what we could do together, one of us suggested this cheesy idea: a pair finding books in pairs.
One of us suggested the idea, while the other agreed and pushed forward with the execution. “Let’s find all the same books,” a simple phrase, took more time and was much more tedious than we had anticipated. Now, as we reflect on it, completing the project together perhaps holds even more significance than the concept itself. (Do some of you find amusement in the changes in our clothing, socks, and poses in each picture?) Without our continuous mutual criticism — questions like, “Isn’t this too boring? Can it be more fun?”— this project wouldn’t have been completed. So, in every sense, this is not only “A Catalogue for Two” but also “A Catalogue by Two.”
There’s one word that we’ve always struggled with: same, similar, identical, repeated, double, duplicate, twin… Certainly, they apply to different situations. The nuance between words are like the nuance between books (or between human beings). Another tricky question is how to identify the identical items (in the process of making this project, those tricky cases were decided jointly by the two of us. If there was a misjudgment, we take joint responsibility). The similarities and differences among individuals are a larger related topic which we won’t delve into here – but leaving for our readers to ponder.
Why compile this catalogue? Aside from satisfying our personal whims as artists, another initial idea of us is to trace back to that imaginary moment of different people reading the same book. The reason why Andreas Züst had these duplicate titles is unknown and may never be solved. Yet those books lead us to a new gateway into the library — a possibility for practicing collective reading.
This is a project made for plural individuals — for friends, lovers, families, artistic duos, or the encountered strangers. If the two of you, want to read a book simultaneously, in this library, this is the catalogue for you.
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A Catalogue for Two is the collaborative project of the artists Kenneth Ting-Yu Lin and zhaoyuefan during their one month residency at the Andreas Züst library. Alongside their collaboration, the two artists have also worked on two other projects individually:
Wild Sheep Chase: inspired by Haruki Murakami’s novel “A Wild Sheep Chase” which the artist found in one bookshelf at the residency space, also because of the sheep and cow farms nearby, Fan intuitively decided to transform the books into the sheep: she copied pages from selected books in the library and folded them into sheep origami, lead them on an escape from the space. The paper sheep stay in the middle ground between knowledge and non-knowledge, understanding and not-understanding, leaving space for reflections and new fantasies.
A Formosan Boy: Throughout the month, Kenneth kept selecting books from the library that interested him and translated/transcribed the images into brush-ink drawings: he made a conscious effort to draw only using lines, which indicates the painting and calligraphy tradition in the east Asia, as opposed to the western painting tradition, which focuses more on shading. How to view an European library from an Asian perspective – the drawing series is the artist’s attempt to answer this question. The title of the series, “A Formosan Boy”, is artist’s self-reference which also comes from the library: though there are a lot of books about Asia here, the only image we found that related to Kenneth’s homeland, Taiwan (also known as “Formosa”), was a photo describing “a Formosan Boy” inside a photo book called “Japanese Children” published by Asahi Shinbunsha in 1936.
April 2024
Text+Fotos: Kenneth Ting-Yu Lin, zhaoyuefan
How can a crack in one’s own biography be changed from a limbo like state into a cozy, fluffy, gooey, and weird, squishy place full of ideas? To what extent is a pleasurable re-appropriation of a place in which one grew up and has since distanced oneself from even possible? These and more other questions accompanied the stay of Zurich based curator and cultural mediator Marcel Hörler. Inspired by the auto-fictional essay «Returning To Reims» by author and philosopher Didier Eribon and, in particular, his way of shaping personal experiences into a critique of the social world and its forms of oppression, he entered the library with a vague plan but driven by curiosity of using it as an environment to read, collect and arrange ideas, that allows to work without the restrictions of a timetable but instead with the intention of outlining an introduction to an undertaking that will outlast his stay.
Tasks like combining terms and comparing images allowed Marcel to look for similarities, differences as well as possibilities of artistic creation and find more
perspectives for looking at such things like a collar as a piece of jewelry to decorate and a device to dominate a body; a traditional costume as means of identification to signify an affiliation to a group of like-minded people and to differentiate from the majority group in a society; furnishings as status symbols
and objects for reproduction, health, illness, physical-/sexual behavior, hygiene, etc. The list could go on and talks in the hallway would most likely make it even longer.
During four weeks various books passed his hands, not only the ones from Bibliothek Andreas Züst, but also Alpenhof and the Cantonal Library. Some books are on the bookshelves waiting to be explored, while others are nontangible, separated, by a protective shield from us, always ready to show, to point out, portend and foretell us. Often, he had to rely on the people on the site: creative directors, researchers, film lovers, hosts, cooks, enthusiasts, mushroom pickers, writers and waiters, – all companions – for a limited amount of time. Therefore, acts of asking with the urge to go on and a hope to dive in were essential in his process of making such in-(visible) places into his playgrounds.
November 2023
Text+Fotos: Marcel Hörler
‘BAZ Recipe Book’ is an open publication looking at the library as a source of bewildering recipes – those that make us try new ‘dishes’ of life, rather than sticking to the well-proven ones. We spent a month in the Bibliothek Andreas Züst, ‘cooking things up’ – browsing the numerous books in search of recipes that would never come to our mind otherwise:
How to identify a ‘difficult’ cloud?
How to become deliberately available and unavailable?
How to toot your horn?
How to digest the wisdom of the idiots?
These and many other bizarre recipes opened a stage for the discussion and raised the question of certainty and doubt. Are the recipes found in books precise enough to stick to them? Should one believe in everything if it’s written in a book? Do we come to a library to look for answers? Or to find questions?
As we spent days in the library we observed its visitors as well. It seemed that many of them found themselves in the library almost by chance, with no particular plan or task in mind. Similarly to us they were aimlessly browsing through the beautiful books. We thought of ways to give this browsing some purpose or at least some prompts. Inside the books we hid the bookmarks to mark the pages containing the unexpected recipes and encourage the visitors to bookmark their own findings as well.
Although the collection of the library is finite and limited by the date of the untimely passing of its owner, the unexpected recipes that one can find in the books – are potentially infinite and invite the readers for a perpetual continuation of the library’s life.
Text: Olya Korsun, Gatis Murnieks
November 2023
