Well Gedacht Publishing Communism Reader includes contributions dealing with different forms of revolutionary struggle from Alpas Pilipinas, Sanabel Abdelrahman, Hasan Özgür Top, Akiko Ono, Ipek Burçak and interviews with Emrah Cilasun and C., and is designed by Fadi Houmani. The risograph-printed zine looks at the history of communist initiatives in the Global South—movements and figures from the past and present through an anti-colonial lens.

With the Communism Reader, Well Gedacht Publishing brings out a publication that motivates and connects the historical with the current and pushes to action to build something new while dealing with the oppressing systems and repressing states.

Eine Alman Stadt is a collection of photos of a mid-size German city, its houses and Vorgärten, greens in between the houses, social spaces, eternal states, flowers at Halit Yozgat memorial and includes a bush-shaped text on the backside of the book. Eine Alman Stadt makes connections between small city timelessness revealing an assumed universality and neutrality, how a city is a sum of privately owned small islands, sometimes with literal flags on top, and gardens and far right ideologies.

The book is printed in RISO in multiple colors, the photos are taken with film cameras between 2012-2017 during Burçak's studies in Kassel.

Eren Ileri’s poster ‘Poles of Inaccessibility’ reveals that the consequences of human activities in the cosmos can be found in seemingly inaccessible places in the ocean.

“They say Point Nemo is ‘lifeless.’ How ‘lifeless’ is it? As ‘lifeless’ as planet Mars or the vacuum of space? Samples collected from Point Nemo indicated it had around 26 microplastic particles per cubic meter. In some parts of the North Atlantic and Mediterranean, this number is between 180–307 particles per cubic meter. […] How many spacecraft lie down there at the bottom of Point Nemo? Do spacecraft remnants merge with microplastics from a detergent bottle? Will the International Space Station be put to the grave at Point Nemo? How many space stations are too many for a spacecraft cemetery?”

Commissioned work for the exhibition Pole der Unzugänglichkeit at the Galerie im Turm, Berlin. Curated by Johanna Janßen.

A Dying Monster is a photographic collection of corporate logos; plastered on people’s bodies, machines, and surroundings.

In A Dying Monster, Eren Ileri treats Formula 1 motor racing as a defining marker of extraction capitalism accelerating toward its own decline. In this mainly black-and-white photographic documentation representing a particular time frame of motor racing of the last decade, Eren paints a picture of Formula 1 that captures the racing spectacle’s contemporary character: drivers, as mere operators at the steering wheel, executing high-performance tasks with an extreme level of preciseness but with increasingly less variety of personal driving styles; and their technological counterparts as extensions of human bodies, aided by corporate organizations populated by engineers and alike, and driven by complex data analyses.

The photo book compiles Eren’s work between 2015 and 2018 when he visited various Grand Prix motor races in Abu Dhabi, Austria, Azerbaijan, Belgium, Monaco, and Italy. In addition to the photography work, the book includes a text by Bécquer Medak-Seguín which interrogates the duality of competing formations of the masculinities of two Formula 1 drivers of the past, Ayrton Senna and Alain Prost.

Covid testing policies in different countries vary extensively, from the public not having access to basic rapid testing to comparatively more social examples where people are able to have free PCR testing on a regular basis. Germany's testing policy lies somewhere in-between, which in typical fashion of a failing welfare state aims to bring a social service to its citizens not through direct intervention, but by supposedly creating a second, outsourced economy. Instead of providing free at home testing or free PCR tests at subsidized labs, the German government decided to create an incentivized funding scheme for small businesses to convert their storefronts into Schnelltest (rapid test) centers. In doing so, the government also resigns from its responsibility of supporting small businesses in recovering their losses due to Covid lockdowns.

The previous function of these small shops and restaurants are still visible under the layer of Covid test banners, where you see advertisements for a kebab sandwich, bakery products, Spätis (Berlin's open till late shops) or solarium services. In addition to these converted spaces, entrepreneurs started new businesses by creating testing sites with minibuses parked on the street or simply built tents. Moreover, the Schnelltest centers undertake secondary roles that the government again outsources to them, like accommodating easy accessibility to various demographics of the city through providing translation and other services along the way.

Locomotion is a one-off travel zine with contributions from art-related actors, engaging with modes and troubles of travel. Featuring contributions by Samar al Summary, Fully Funded Residencies, Burak Taşdizen, Azar Pajuhandeh, Ipek Burçak, Ada Karayel and Eren Ileri. It is a wandering around (im)mobilities of non-humans, artist residencies as a way of survival, road and driving memories, heatwaves and meltings, and commercial space travel.

Locomotion is designed by Ada Karayel, and co-faciliated by Eren Ileri. Illustrations are made by Goodnewsforbadguys.

The magazine comes with a sticker set; a fly and the Locomotion logo.

From Editor’s and Publisher’s Note:

“…When things started to resemble sci-fi dystopia, the absurdity of writing applications for artist residencies at that time has triggered us to have a look at the issue of traveling more deeply and we found ourselves digging up different holes that leave threads for you to connect…”

“…Before we came to the idea of making a magazine, we were speculating on various issues entangled with travel: the materiality of roads, and their related social meanings, debates that can be categorized as anti-travel or travel skepticism and slowing down, inactivity or motionlessness, and also the luxury of not-to-travel by choice…”

“…Since this publication took its start with the pandemic, attentiveness towards some of the matter that are partly in our bodies, and to others that are not, brought us to the word locomotion, which means not just the motion of the human and the living but also of the non-living and the non-human, of which you will find pieces scattered all over the magazine.”

In The View from "No-Man's Land", Shehadeh documents the year 2020 by using online culture's main currency—memes—to tell stories of crashes, depressions, and violence caused by acceleration and the hyper technologies of control. His position as a Palestinian artist permits him to tell such stories with ease and cleverness. Yet unlike his subjects, he doesn't convey a post-ironic attitude; his awareness is a tool to decipher post-irony, exposing its contradictions as if fighting fire with fire. That is highlighted best in the book's cover; a kite strapped with a Molotov cocktail. The contra-drone of the oppressed. A direct, ironic answer to the oppressor's hyper-tech arsenal.

This book and its artifacts function as a memory theater for an era that doesn't want to leave, trying to outwit us by employing elements from the past. All the versos and rectos speak of the same story, reiterating after Carl "CJ" Johnson, its undeclared Angelus Novus, "Oh shit, here we go again."

- Yazan S. Ashqar

"As I was saying hum, hum was happening. I was saying haw and haw was happening. With a mildly higher voice, my chin a little bit up, eyes staring just above the horizon like trying to remember a name that was forgotten three times before, I was inside a bus traveling with 120 km/h and I was about to give advices to the passengers: “We are so different and we are right to be different”. In fact my actual duty inside this bus was to sleep."

“Ayfer Karabıyık focuses on the suspension that results from repetition—of sounds, images, things as we know them—through the two text pieces she included in Failure Cut Family Graveyard. [This publication] is an interpretation of [those] moments when words lose their meaning, when we repeat them to ourselves, or when an image starts to become blurry and unclear upon closer inspection. Karabıyık evokes and expands these moments through claiming that suspended moment as a materiality in her texts.

Karabıyık works with the ability of text to extend and shrink sounds to produce moments of suspension that are, in turn, reflected in the physicalities we project on to what we are reading. This work serves as a subtitle to the artist’s practice, as she always deals with the fickleness of what we see or sense, stretching-out the words and sounds comprising the narratives of what we could be looking at. This gesture of making visible the artifice of language as a slippery conveyor of meaning transforms this book into a text that one can’t help but return to multiple times, each time deriving different interconnections between the words on the page.”

- Merve Ünsal, Speculation as Method