Again, Again, Infinitely
A Bird Told A Monkey To Tell My Parents To Tell Me That I Had To Go Visit A Pearl
Laslo Opening
in the context of 48 Stunden Neukölln
Pablo García Contreras
Lucía Del Mar
George Hilless
Will Hilless
Lisa Kaschubat
Marissa Leitman
Nicholas Lindell-Wright
Üni So
Laslo
Harzer Straße 24-25
12059, Berlin
DE
July 4-5, 2026
* * *
There is perhaps no such thing as an encounter untouched by mediation.
Before reaching us, the world has almost always already passed through something else: through light, through memory, through language, through another body, through architecture, through history, through industry, through an image, through the innumerable structures that condition what can appear and what remains imperceptible. We inherit stories before experiences, photographs before places, archives before events, and oftentimes come to know people through the traces they leave rather than through their presence. Even memory, perhaps our most intimate means of accessing the world, reconstructs more than it retrieves, endlessly translating experience into something that can be carried forward.
The desire for immediacy persists nevertheless, as though somewhere beneath these layers there existed an original world waiting to be encountered directly, untouched by transmission. But perhaps we’ve been thinking about it the wrong way; and mediation isn’t an obstacle standing between ourselves and reality, perhaps it is actually the very condition under which reality comes to appear at all.
Again, Again, Infinitely unfolds with this proposition, gathering together works that understand perception less a transparent act of seeing than an ongoing negotiation with absence, distance, translation, and time. Throughout the exhibition, images are refracted through water, projected through sculptural forms, glimpsed through half-closed eyes, encountered through architectural apertures, reconstructed through memory, or withheld behind walls that that permit only partial access. Mediation is thus no longer a deficiency to overcome – these works inhabit its productive possibilities, asking what kinds of knowledge emerge precisely because complete or direct access remains impossible.
And from here, another question arises. If everything appears under particular conditions, then these conditions are never neutral: visibility is organized; histories become legible through institutions that preserve some traces while allowing others to disappear; labor reaches us as a commodity; extraction as infrastructure, political struggle as image, statistic, or rumor. Entire systems exceed direct perception, becoming knowable only through the representations, interfaces, and narratives that render them sensible. The exhibition therefore approaches mediation as a political concern, attending to structures that determine how the world is made available to experience, and whose and what realities remain persistently out of frame.
Across drawing, painting, photography, film, projection, sculpture, and virtual reality, the eight artists brought together in Again, Again, Infinitely trace these conditions of appearance without attempting to dissolve them: if knowledge is always partial, it is perhaps not because the world withholds itself from us, but because every encounter is already an encounter with relation, with everything that has allowed that moment to become visible in the first place.
Memory says of the event: it once was and now it will never be again... it never happened, never for a first time, and yet it starts over, again, again, infinitely.1
- Pablo García Contreras
1Blanchot, Maurice. The Space of Literature. Translated by Ann Smock, University of Nebraska Press, 1982
Avantika Khanna
Laslo
Harzer Straße 24-25
12059, Berlin
DE
May 30-31, 2026
* * *
What is a sheep only millions of little bits of sheepness whirling around and doing intricate convolutions inside the sheep? What else is it but that?1
A clear glass pane stands tall atop a curved block of concrete of slight thickness, balancing almost impossibly on a single glass marble. On it, white scribbles dance in every which way, an anachronistic outpouring of thoughts, dreams, feelings, and wishes, immortalized for as long as nature allows them to be. A chain of the same material – glass – hangs from the top, a three-dimensional extension of the aforementioned outpouring. Although it is seemingly motionless, its stature, unknown past life, and almost feverish inscriptions bring it abuzz, as if the atoms it’s composed of, the millions of little bits of glass paneness and curved block of concreteness whirling around and doing intricate convolutions inside it, were attempting to remember the lives they inhabited before this one, vibrating with the residual presence of everything they had once touched, conspiring toward form.
In many ways, Avantika Khanna’s work operates within a universe in which objects and people continuously absorb traces of one another, insofar as she allows each piece to become an extension of herself and vice versa, with the presumption that the term “found” in “found objects” applies both ways. Her work seems to unfold within an ecology of relay, in which thoughts, objects, gestures, and memories continuously pass traces of themselves between one another, with a special appreciation of found objects as gifts: as a sculptor, she bears the responsibility for adding “things” to a planet so full of things it is collapsing under its own weight, a planet still-oh-so-bountiful-despite-it-all that it provides, too, the objects she comes across and then repurposes in her practice. And in doing so, her work represents the eternally human need to materialize the immaterial, to physicalize the metaphysical, to document, to archive; to leave a trace behind of what was first within us, in constant conversation with Earth’s bounty.
But it also seems to understand that if, in our current form, we have a place in this universe, this universe has a place within us: what starts as a thought in our head and is then transferred onto a physical medium can’t have really originated in our head; what exists within existed outside first, and what existed outside first existed within first, too; as though consciousness itself were merely a fold in the fabric of the world, something porous rather than sovereign, as if thought itself were less an act of invention than reception. And thus, within her practice, objects cease to be inert things, becoming repositories waiting to be activated by encounter.
Avantika Khanna’s first solo show proposes a universe in which entities are never fully distinct from one another, where prolonged contact produces exchange and transformation; the message passed from bird to monkey to parent to artist functions almost atomically: meaning migrates across forms, accumulating force through transmission, allowing a reality in which the external world and the interior self continuously author one another.
- Pablo García Contreras
1 O'Brien, Flann. The Third Policeman. Dalkey Archive Press, 1999.
Laslo opening
Pablo García Contreras
Lucía Del Mar
George Hilless
Marissa Leitman
Nicholas Lindell-Wright
Üni So
Laslo
Harzer Straße 24-25
12059, Berlin
DE
February 20, 2026