‘Once upon a time there was a kid, named ”Palace of the Republic”; raised in the lap of his mother, but dwellers could not detach themselves from the shadow of the mother. First torn down and decoded to bring back the mother to the physical world – the child had to decease. Why do they fear the new, why do they resurrect the dead?
Why do they try to reanimate the shine of a bygone era by rebuilding a long lost icon? The whole dispute a farce, the creation of a zombie; the virtual flesh as P[a]laste and Elaste – all that remains in our polymeric world. The palace of the future is virtual and real at the same time, a physical cloud, an idea – visual cancer in the urban heart.
Recycling, from the leftovers of the eastern republic; at the same time building material of the future, symbolical as a dead bone; the flesh once so alive eaten by the nightingale; the only thing left are the roots in the earth, that what we call “home”.
High and mighty in its urban environment, more like punk in its gesture; no regard to existing architectural treasures. Shining white, a shadow over the guild hall but also a shadow that will exist in our minds forever: The palace of the republic. Even if it lies in ruins, it will remain with us. We can bend, manipulate or change history, but never delete it.’