Once, when driving along the Danube, I realized that the riverbanks and adjacent grassland
were littered with tiny polystyrene pellets. Polysty rene shows quite clearly that a global toolcan evolve into a global substance. I call every material I use a global substance. I do not regard the materials I employ as fetish; rather, do I have an animistic relationship to them. I don't perceive the material as such, but focus on its animistic essence that reflects the myth
of creation and gains autonomy, as was illustrated by writer Carlo Collodi in 1881 in his story on Pinocchio. Here I'm not referring to the "political" Pinocchio but to the sequence at the beginning of the narration in which the wooden puppet starts talking. Generally, there is no success or failure in connection with these works, and I deal with rejection in much
the same wav as with acceptance. Rejection involves eliciting responses in the viewer that connote the work negatively.

Showing incomplete and faulty structures is a simple and deliberate strategy, a signature trait of my work that became visible already in the early 1980s and has been reinforced ever since. At that time, I set out to interact with rituals in a very complex manner. The crucial question I asked myself was: How do rituals emerge? From individual action? On account of collective acceptance? At first, I explored existing fields of action to see how my own creatures would behave and fare in. Green Frog Bath Soap (1986), for example, was nothing but a bar of green soap at the beginning. It was an important experience for me to accommodate the relatively small-scale production of this soap within regular manufacturing cycles. A problem that I had to take into account was production limits (see: Production Limits), and these then played a vital role in later works of mine as well. I had to wait for almost a year for the soaps because of their small production scale. As to soap production, it is this industrial manufacturing method that I apply in a "parasitic" manner. The everyday ritual of consumption is embodied by the act of washing hands. Another example involved my replacing blue-and-white checkered tablecloths in a restaurant by green ones, thus breaking a ritual and standing rule (see: Froschquintett). The following questions encouraged me to expand my interventions in many different directions: What would happen if, instead of habitually used shoelaces, Velcro, etc., all shoes suddenly came with a hitherto unknown mechanism of tying them? Chaos! People would despair over this new system. What is both remarkable and astonishing is why something exists or doesn't exist. Ever since I have asked myself these questions, I have set out to explore parallel worlds in order to pry loose the process of ritual, and in order to put the coincidence