AK I would explain it with the example of the time problem. We all know the mechanical time of a television program which is basically derived from peoples' working hours and the petty mercantile uses they make of their leisure time. For the Greeks, Chronos stood for time that leads to death, time that consumes itself. Chronos is a gigantic god who devours his own children. His antipode in the Greek pantheon is Kairos, "the fortunate moment." Kairos is a very small, dwarf-like god with a bald head. But on his forehead he has a tuft (of dense hair). If you catch the tuft, you're lucky. If you are just a moment too late, your grip on his bald head will slip and you won't be able to hold on to him. This character, Kairos, is the "happy time" that is hidden in the time of people's lives, in their working time, in everything they might do. He is an object of aesthetic activity. With Chronos on the other hand, you can only become a watchmaker.

HUO The time-machine...

AK Artists can't really stop the time-machine either. And it's not even worth describing it. Kairos is the element through which we live, and to recreate this principle in the center of TV-Chronos, even if only for seconds, is our sole purpose. And it is no different with texts. Hidden in a long text, there are perhaps three lines that count. A small amount of Chronos is still very dangerous: his canine tooth can crush you, while at the same time a very small dose of Kairos will suffice, as it is a counter-principle, a completely different kind of time. ( Interview with Alexander Kluge (by Hans Ullrich Obrist))

Kluge prepares for the Büchnerpreis