MOIblog
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Atmosphere
Winter at last
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News
- KODAK has filed for Bankruptcy
- Internet on strike for 24h
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book
Jonathan Culler; The Semiotics of Tourism
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Tip
silence is more convincing than speech but harder to keep up.
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month 4 Slow start fast moves
-- January is almost over and it is the first chance I have to sit down and do this. There have been a few failed attempts, some notes taken, but there are always more urgent things to do and the task at hand grows every time I postpone it. So here I am, chained to the sofa, trying not to think of what else I could be or should be doing. It is now or never, since giving up is not an option, at least not yet. My voiceless beginning of the year in Paris feels very far behind. I remained silent for a further week or so after my return to London and I still sound a bit croaky, as if I smoked 2 packs of Gauloise a day. I did enjoy the experience and the effect it had on people around me; some felt compelled to whisper to tune in to my sound levels, conversations became quite sparse and silence became the norm for a while. I think it made me look vulnerable and powerless, not that I felt that way at all. A few people at work even said that they really enjoyed this new me, it was a welcome change from my usual strong headed and argumentative attitude. I must admit that I entirely agree with them, I was also enjoying my temporarily more passive and laid back attitude to life. It was much less tiring and stressing. To my great surprise it seemed to be more effective too! Not that I achieved much more than in my usually more confrontational mode, but as much for sure and it was more pleasant for all involved. This was a great discovery for me, a humbling one too. I am not sure I can keep it up for long now speech is coming back. I am trying though. I don’t think it is connected but within a month I have lost a crown on each side of my mouth, at the back fortunately. There isn’t much that can be done unfortunately unless I have a few thousands pounds to spare for implants, why are they so expensive, I couldn’t get an answer. I have lost quite a lot of bite but gained nicer cheekbones. My dentist has a sense of humour…
-- The Euro is 10 years old this month, yet hardly able to stand on its own two feet. No celebration at all since its situation is so unhealthy. Now the holiday season is over, during which bad news were kept to a minimum, it might have prevented people form spending what they don’t have, it is all starting again, the Euro zone is sinking a bit deeper. It is getting worse. France and a few other countries credit rating have been downgraded. It made me happy to imagine Sarkozy’s face, he who sees himself as Europe’s savior, with the help of Angela, her money and his big mouth, since France doesn’t have a penny to spare. It is damaging his credibility and his reputation so close to presidential election.. Strangely enough French Prime Minister Francois Fillion is now saying, that it doesn’t really matter or make much difference, using exactly the opposite argument when other countries like Spain and Portugal were downgraded. Poor Portugal is now beyond salvation, its debt not worth the non-paper it is written on. England has nothing to be proud of, despite all the drastic cuts and savings since Cameron is in power, the UK debt has reached 1 trillion pounds this week, an average of 16 thousands pound per citizen, 64.2 of the GDP, According to the B.B.C., up from 59.4% a year ago. The US national debt is close to 75% of GDP. What is going on? Mind you I am not far behind I think my personal debt is way over that, yet my bank is still sending me tantalizing offers every month. And I do not have the option of quantitative easing. How wonderful that would be… The bank of England has injected 275 billions pounds since 2009.
- Last week the Internet went on strike for the first time, a virtual strike, the largest online protest in history to stop SOPA and PIPA, the 2 Internet censorship bills about to be voted by the American congress. It has worked since the vote has been postponed indefinitely. Now despite being semantically wrong since only people can go on strike, not a virtual structure. But it proves the power and the place this invisible force has taken in today’s world. Even in the Archer’s, life stopped for a week since internet cables were sabotaged by cable thieves creating havoc in the whole community.
-- The year has started, like every year, with two birthday celebrations, Eva in Saltdean followed by James in London. Eva’s in holiday mode since they now live in a great house in Saltdean in between the Southdown’s and the sea, occasion to profit from the warmth of their hospitality for a weekend; each visit gives rise to the same rituals of long walks on the beach or on the downs, coffee in the sun by the lido, late brunches and much banter and laughter. The party was low key but high in calories and sugar content, there were many deserts brought by all, they all ended up at some point on Eva’s body in an impromptu little performance. The company and the sea air brought me back to life after my sick beginning and I came back to London finally ready to face the coming year and its many challenges.
James’s birthday was the occasion to launch his temporary shop at ‘ Le garage” across the road form brockwell park. He has it for 6 weeks, opening every day, hoping to get rid of a lot of his stock of antics, books and objects of all kind which occupy most of his big house and 2 storage arches. He does have some wonderful things, not always affordable but some true gems which are hard to resist. He has called the shop ‘the society for protection of unwanted objects’, Karen painted a beautiful gold sign for the occasion. I manage to be reasonable and only succumb to a beautiful Moroccan dish and an old small book on Ipswich. The shop attracted a lot of people, I am sure he will be successful, once he accepts to let go of things. It was very funny to observe him struggling a little every time someone was interested in buying something, hesitating, not being sure of the price, haggling for a pound or two, doing everything to delay or prevent the sale, very touching indeed. I will visit towards the end, one or 2 lamps and a small table that won’t go away from my mind. Some more lovely cakes and bubbles, candles and a little speech to conclude the occasion. It was my first social outing since being ill and I felt rather fragile and wanted to keep enough energy to drive to the seaside the next day for Eva’s celebration.
-- It might have been a slow start in some ways but in others multitasking and fast thinking was required. First semester assessment of third years in Farnham, voiceless and tired Some good works overall of much better standard than last year’s cohort but many fails also, more than I have ever experienced in over 10 years teaching in Farnham. This is worrying in itself and we need to address it, not that we have much time to do so right now with preparing 2nd semesters modules, trying to accommodate 20% more students on already stretched budget and resources, and rewriting the course and many units for the coming course review in March. It is not so much the rewriting that takes time but the discussions and negotiations that take place, there are so many changes to make, it is an interesting process and a creative one too but on top of everything else, it doesn’t allow for much room or time to maneuver. Then there is the Book Live! Conference, extending the deadline because of the festive break and starting to sort the proposals received. I am relieved; we have had some very interesting submissions, enough already to offer a good selection and range of presentations and ensuring a good debate. Some more are coming too. Then there are the professorial meetings preparing for REF 14, having to look closely at and assess all research outputs submitted, only 3 or 4 stars research is eligible for submission; of international excellence and merit. I am learning a lot about the whole process and how to best describe or frame the research potential of projects in the required institutional jargon. It is a very useful skill to have.
-- Then there is progressing along the Research I am doing to progress the JUNGLE FEVER project and finish the documentation. This included a lot of reading, perfect season for it. I am looking at cultural and social theories on tourism, from early writings by Hans Magnus Ezensberger, a theory of tourism to Dean Mccannels' the tourist, Jonathan Culler's The Semiotics of Tourism, René Scherer’s Utopies nomads etc…. This is such a treat, the pleasure of reading and researching a topic I do not no much about, taking notes, letting new ideas sink in. The project evolved so quickly last year and the first public outings were so close together that I never had the time to do this beforehand. On reflection I am not sure it is a bad thing. While I became rather confused and overwhelmed by the success of the project, by success I don’t mean financial success or critical acclaim, but success in terms of achieving what I was trying to do and doing so for the pleasure and benefice of all involved. In each destination travel beyond one’s personal borders took place for all, myself included, resulting in some great friendships, memories, snapshots and home movies. And the project evolved in unexpected directions; from indoors to outdoors, starting looking at personal exploration of historical and political sites. I managed to create and provide an enjoyable alternative to a packaged holiday and global tourism and in the meantime while opening up new horizons for the project. So many new horizons that it became difficult to frame or decide what was the project and what wasn’t or what it was about.
-- Now I have something to apply all my reading and findings to. Reading about the history and the various attempts at theorizing Tourism is also very enlightening. The fact that in the 1950s the mass tourism of today was already predicted by people like Hans Magnus Enzensberger and Gerard Nebel who said; ‘ The European disease breaks out in a row of abscesses. A country that has given itself over to tourism conceals its metaphysical substance – it shows its façades but no longer its daemonic power.” How true of today places like the Costa del Sol in Spain and other packaged holiday destinations. The words he uses are so dramatic; it is a pleasure to read. Hans Magnus in a more gentle way is even more prophetic; “ the yearning for freedom from society has been harnessed by the very society it seeks to escape. An industry has been established to manufacture deliverance from the industrial world; travels beyond the world of commodities has itself become a commodity “. That was written in 1958, how completely accurate was he. Another notion I do find thought provoking, I can’t remember right now who it was who wondered whether we created Tourism or Tourism created us. Anyway this only the tip of the iceberg of my findings on the subject. What I find rewarding is that it is not such a big iceberg, not that much has been written on the subject so it is relatively easy to find one’s way and make up one’s mind. Having said that, it means there is so much to do on the subject. Especially if I start from the premise that the world is a manufactured playground and that we the artists and thinkers are the ones best prepared and experienced to show the rest of the world how to explore it creatively, freely and responsibly, in other words how to escape one’s condition and every day life at will and without looking elsewhere.
-- Lat weekend this is exactly what I had the chance to do, taking part in Oliver Froome-Lewis project, ‘Spatial translation’, bringing together 4 architects and 4 photographers to explore, contrast and compare their understanding of public spaces. He took us all on a day trip through London, around 10 miles, starting at 9.30am in Archway and more or less in a straight line, at least on the map, walking down to Battersea park, finishing at the peace Pagoda around 6pm. He gave us a map of the itinerary, we had as sole instruction to document our journey en route, in photographs and text if we wished, walking altogether as a lose group. We could if we wanted make plans to revisit certain locations at a later date. We were all quite puzzled yet intrigued by the experiment and his lack of precise directive. It was cold and very windy but bearable and the sun came out on a few occasions. A really enjoyable and unusual experience, if not exhausting, to walk all day leisurely all day as a group but with no other aim than to walk the walk and document it. It brought back many memories from different chapters of my life in London, same for the other it seems. At the same time it connected familiar places in a new and often unexpected ways. I did discover one or two new places also. What I enjoyed most is to be a detached observer of what was going on along the way, almost as if I was watching a film in 3D, various scenes and little rituals unraveling in front of my eyes. I can’t say I was that entertained or excited by what I saw, it all felt quite surreal or over the top, and I found it hard to relate any of it to my own life. Like for exemple watching people on a Saturday morning in Regents Park, being bossed around and shouted out willingly, even paying for it, apparently for fitness sake. It seems to be fashionable and popular thing to do; it is called British military fitness. Serving or ex members of the arm forces train you and they promise to rapidly increase your strength, speed and stamina. And they do this by abusing you verbally and pushing you to your physical and mental limits. How mad is that? Another exemple is seeing in Mayfair in a shop window among other luxury items of home furniture a gold plated and porcelain ‘woman as a toilet’, bare chested, arms raised and folded suggestively above her head, mouth pouting half open, strategically placed within reach of a pissing man crotch. I was fascinated, shocked, amused, disgusted. As a piece of art by the Chapman’s brothers or Damien Hirst (a giant version) I would find it over the top and sensationalist but it could work. I think even Allen Jones who is responsible for the larger than life size? ‘Hat stand’, ‘Table’ and ‘Chair’ didn't dare to go there for Art sake. But to think someone, a man presumably would chose to pay a fortune to have this installed in his toilets, and on top of this subject his wife or partner to use it also. I find it pretty hard to take in. When discussing it with a few men, they had another point, let say more technical; they wondered how one would pee, if aroused by the sight or proximity of the inviting mouth or breast.
I am looking forward to see what each one of us will make of the same journey, what eight images they will select and what impressions or conclusions they will draw from the experience. I have come up this weekend with a working edit and a few conclusions, which did surprise me at first since I didn’t pan for it to happen. But in the end it is conquering with what I have been reading on tourism and linking nicely with what I am trying to go beyond with Jungle Fever. The photographs are chose intuitively out of around 40 all portray the city as a sort of fantasy world full of carefully constructed signs that often seem arbitrary or misleading since they bear little resemblance with reality. Altogether they transform the city into a theme park. People seem quite content with these manufactured illusions. They even create their own.
Sunday 29th January 21.50pm
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Atmosphere
voiceless blues, gales at times
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News
The end has been and gone
- Stephen Lawrence attackers finally sentenced
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book
Howard Slater's Anomie/Bonhomie, published by Mute
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Tip
Being voiceless and speechless are not quite the same.
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month 3 To be or not to be (in) again
-- I have survived the end of the festive season, quite unscathed apart from losing my voice at the start of a long awaited and well deserved few days in Paris, voiceless and quite poorly. Luckily Samia turned out to be the best carer possible even managing to pretend that she enjoyed it. Not much was achieved in terms of exhibitions or the usual long walks with numerous coffee stops and much banter, apart from ‘Betes off’ at La Conciergerie, a few fantastic pieces but rather theatrical as a whole, apart from Karen ‘s photograph ‘ the passage, villa Savoye. That was replaced with great food and a few classics on dvd; Harvey with James Stewart, Fellini’s the white sheikh, Sokurov’s fantastic Russian Ark, I so wished I could have been there to witness the one and only take; wouldn’t it be great to imagine a camera recording the movement of the first camera’s and the aftermath of its roaming through the hermitage, tableau after tableau, and finally Julie Delpy’s the countess.
-- I came up from St Yrieix on the 31st to spend a few days with Samia before coming back to London. Christmas had been a merry and joyous family occasion, not much tension for once, we were all on best behaviour since one of my nephews, Mathieu, had invited one of his student friend, Sukrit from Pondicherry, stranded a long way from home. Much champagne and good wine was consumed by all from quite early on, a father Christmas costume was passed on throughout the evening, each volunteer, male and female, bringing their own touches to the role. The highlight of the evening was a surprise inauguration of the gorgeous fireplace in my sister’s gorgeous house, which has remained unused since they moved in 8 years ago, to much of my disappointment and my many complaints every winter. It has finally happened, the whole atmosphere of this already beautiful house is transformed, it now feels alive and complete. I did spent a few evening afterwards, staring at the flames after finishing various festive remains of salmon, foie gras, cheeses, wines, champagne, caviar even, enjoying it all while moaning at the silly cost of it all, like every year. The rest of my time was spent catching up with things at the centre des livres d’artistes, documentation of Helen Garcia installation in town and on site, projects for next year, website update, promoting our research and residencies facilities… Also catching up with the few friends I have there that I hadn’t had the chance to see the previous month, and most of all starting to clear up, sort out and pack some of my belongings. I have now handed in my notice and have to hand back the keys in three months times, just after Ester. I am not keeping much apart from books and one or two pieces of furniture and carpets. I want to give the rest to friends and family, I am enjoying the process of identifying who might like or want what. I have to find storage for what is left from my studio breaking of last year, now waiting in my basement, until I decide what to do with it all, bring it back to London or else.
-- I also took the time to go and visit my two beloved godsons, Nicolas and Roman, who now live in Bergerac with their uncle, since the death of their mother 5 years ago. They have lost their father too in September, he had been ill for a long while, it wasn’t a complete surprise and they were not that close to him, he was a difficult man and never much of a father figure but it is still difficult nevertheless, at 19 and 16, perhaps even more since guilt comes into play. They are lucky to have strong family support and love and some very good friends, I do my best also from a distance, never enough it feels. It was great to spend some times with them, just being together, sometimes reminiscing on their childhood, common memories and good times with their mother. Rather than imposing them something to do, I followed them for a day and an evening, meeting their friends, taking them out for drinks in their favourite music bar, catching up on their present, their stories, girlfriends, music…. One is into rock and punk music, docmartins shoes, jeans, perfecto, the other is a post punk/anarchist/squatter with a beard, wearing sarouel pants, knitted black cap, a palestinian scarf hanging from his pocket, not a hippie for sure but his own strange mix of a kind. Stories of his squatting life in Bordeaux is bringing back memories of my own, it was great to compare experiences and be able to give him a few tips, making it easier to talk about more serious matters, helping him find something constructive to do in terms of studying or travelling or gathering experience through volunteering abroad, coming to send a few months with me to learn English, instead of hanging out and feeling rather lost and confused. Not sure I have succeeded there, we made a few tentative plans but nothing concrete yet. Roman seems to have good plans, want to go into journalism in a couple of years time, share a flat with a friend in Bordeaux during his studies, not interested in squatting, liking his comfort too much. I really do feel for them and try my best to be there. I am realizing what a privileged connection I have, this is filling me with as much joy than anxiety. It was very funny walking around with both and a young Esmeralda look alike but quite full figured, dressed with layers and layers of scarves, long skirts, dreadlocks, a generous cleavage and carrying two juggling batons. Bergerac is a small town ,very provincial and conservative, they were stared at with disgust and distrust, I was looked at with shame and contempt, probably mistaken for the mother. It reminded me of my age of course but more to the point of my late teens when I was myself a bit of a punk in provincial Limoges then Paris. I, too, walked around proudly or carelessly, sometimes with my mother or other members of my family. I know now what they had to put up with. I was sad to leave, this was to short to really make a difference, and not knowing when I could return but plans were made and I will try my best to keep in close virtual contact until then.
-- For new year eve, despite feeling my lingering cold worsening and after a bottle of champagne, Samia, Thierry and I went walking along the canal, from Pantin, all the way to Belleville. The streets were glistening with rain and completely empty, it was quite magical, we could see people celebrating at home, a few parties. We stopped for merguez and chips with traditional mint tea in a great Morrocan café at la Couronne, not entirely traditional but I had had a fixation on it since we left the flat, then walked back after midnight stroke, witnessing much drunken euphoria and shouting of happy new year to the world and to us from most lit windows, some sounding as if they were being strangled, quite unpleasant to hear. We did respond of course, if not more melodically, perhaps how I lost my voice and what was left of my health the next day. No regret though, another bottle of champagne was waiting for us when we got back from our ten kilometers walk, and I found on the way the image for my 2012 wishes. Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité.Thursday 5th January 2012 20.12pm
To be or not to be (in) again
-- America’s occupation of Irak is officially over. Mind you it had been a while that , in preparation for this day, the media stopped reporting daily the number of deaths and casualties at every news bulletin. It now has been replaced by the EUROZONE crisis. Obama seems confident that Irak has been saved and can now survive alone. Not sure ho wmany do believe his hollow words. I certainly don’t. I am not sure Irak is better off now then then. I read today an interesting theory. If Bush had been more educated and had read / known about previous invasion of these regions then he would have known that hey had little chance of winning. But he didn’t know so he went in with confidence and little doubt. Trees have finally bared their sinuous urges, I so love watching them in all their naked glory. But days are very short, light non existent and I have caught another cold and bad cough, just in time for the end of term and the festive season. Mood is low.Friday 16th December 18.23pm
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Atmosphere
wintery blues, gales at times
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News
- Russians street protests against rigged elections
- UK is out of Eurozone negotiation,
willingly or unwillingly that is the question
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book
Stefan Szczelkun, Agit disco
Gerhard Richter, images of an era,
published by Bucerius Kunst forum
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Tip
You can never please everybody
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To be or not to be (in)
-- To be or not to be indeed, or as translated by Voltaire in French “ arrete, il faut choisir et passer á l’instant / De la vie á la mort ou de l’etre au néant “ which I would translate back as “ come on, we must chose and live in the moment, life or death or from being to nothingness. This fantastic translation is less poetic or dramatic then the original but more to the point perhaps, in the way that it relates more to how one gets there as opposed to where or what one becomes; it was allegedly borrowed by Sartre for the title of the book we know. This becomes quite revealing when applied to UK just being veted or voted out of Euro negotiations or vetoing itself out, depending whom one choses to believe. Does it really matter how it happened or whether UK is in or out? Will it make much difference to the urgency of the situation or the drastic decisions that need to be made. The UK and the average people will suffer equally and the ones in power, ie financial institutions, will continue protecting their interests. None of our leaders have the guts to sacrifice their political career to do so, whether Cameron is in or out. At least now he has the perfect excuse for not doing so. It was touching this morning to hear him confessing to Andrew Marr on radio 4 that the UK were now all alone, adrift in the Atlantic and that other European nations failed to understand how insecure a position that was. His brave hero mask collapsed to reveal a wounded, rejected and misunderstood soul. Meanwhile Sarkozy’s face, under the strain of responsibility, is looking more and more gaunt, his ears starting to look quite disproportionate, reminiscence of snow white and the seven dwarfs might be too offensive, lets go for beauty and the beast instead. I do hope his baby daughter inherited her looks and his brains and not the opposite. It is pantomine season afterall and they are all playing their roles perfectly, Punch and Sarkozy and Judy Merkell beating up Cameron and whoever is too weak financially to put a word or a foot in. We the audience can call out, shout, laugh, scream, nothing will deter them from their well rehearsed script, power puppets that they are, tied to the hands of global economy masters they sold their souls to in exchange for wealth and power.
unicorn
-- Meanwhile, public workers have been on strike here in the UK, that includes myself, to protect wages and pension deals, St Pauls surroundings are still occupied by well organized anti capitalists activists. The Wall Street occupy movement has spread through America, San Francisco, Denver, Salt Lake City, St Louis and many other cities. It has also spread to Canada, Iceland and other cities in Europe. Russia is seeing the biggest street protests in over a decade to contest the results of the parliamentary elections, that despite being rigged barely managed to give a 50 % majority to Putin’s party. Even president Medvedev publically acknowledged some form of malpractice. Meanwhile the Euro crisis deepens, economists have never been more in demands to give their opinion or solution to the situation; all agree on the causes and on the facts that a double dip recession is upon us, but none have any radical solutions, since they are all based on the current system of continuous economical growth and consumerism, which is clearly failing and obsolete. This is the end of of globalization, we cannot get more global or bigger. It is time to explode or implode into micro pieces and start again, the only choice is to do it willingly or to wait for it to happen naturally, which it is bound to, like an inflated balloon exploding in a thousand pieces with a bang. It is clear to all of us, the people. I am not an economist but I know when things don’t add up anymore and it is clear to me what needs to happen; I can go on until I am bankrupt, then crash. But I do not have anybody to bail me up, so the only solution is to downsize and re balance my budget.
-- I have been doing just that for the past few months, cutting on expenses of all kind, trying to clear a growing overdraft, twice as big as my income, and a credit card debts pushed to the limit; the results of getting my kitchen and bathroom done up coupled with two disastrous years of what I call legalized thefts; studio break in in France with little insurance compensation due to circumstances, in London car towed away illegally, flights and trains journeys cancelled and not reimbursed, stolen camera, laptop, tomtom combined with bad insurance deals, dodgy parking or speeding tickets etc… I am not much of a spender but I could easily become one, since despite the state of my finances, both my bank and credit card company keep encouraging me to spend more sending me all kind of unbelievable offers, This is outrageous, after the subprime crash of recent years, they haven’t yet learnt their lesson. More to the point why are they still allowed to keep on pushing us to live above our means. This month I have had to take a few drastic decisions. I am giving up my place in France, it is not adding up anymore, rent, insurance, rates and council tax, transport back and forth, it has all gone up by over 40% in 5 years while my income has barely gone up by 10%. Something have to give. I am giving myself 3 months to do so, finding where to dispose of or store what I have accumulated, furniture, books, bring some back to London etc…. an equally exhausting and exciting prospect. I will miss my home there, so peaceful and comfortable yet low maintenance, no telephone or internet, the views on beautiful trees that I will miss observing going through their seasonal cycles, quirky nosy but warm hearted neighbours who have completely adopted me and feel sorry for me for travelling so much… Exciting because I have to break the full on routine that keeps me going for five years in between two countries, two homes and two of pretty much everything, leaving not much room for the new or the unexpected. I am keeping my ties with the centre des livres d’artistes for now and will stay with various members of my family or one or two friends. I feel lighter already. To be or not to be (in), a decision is all it takes, the rest follows.
-- Meanwhile multitasking continues and life goes on. Helene’s residency at the cdla finished, the show went up but from what I heard things didn’t go too well, quite a few misunderstandings and clashes of characters took place as soon as I was gone, in typical French style, each party having to let the other side know and feel in no uncertain ways what is what, who is what, and who is right. I do feel bad and somewhat partly responsible. This is not a good start and I am not sure lessons will be learnt. Here in London, I feel in full hibernation mode, I have avoided so far the depth of winter blues, spirit is neither high or low but energy is lacking and I would spend my days in bed reading If I could. Deadlines and commitments are in the way, and the high level of noise and disruption disturbing my usually quiet home, surrounded by scaffolding on both sides and busy, curious and loud builders from seven am onward, curtains have to remain shut to fend off their preying eyes and sarcastic comments. It is quite unbearable and I have another few months of this and a huge bill at the end of it, courtesy of Lambeth council who think they can charge me 21 thousands pounds to replace my windows and refurbish the roof and facades of the whole estate. Another case of legalized theft that a group of us leaseholders are contesting.Yet another unfair battle on our hands.
-- On a brighter note, Christmas lights are on everywhere, and while I dislike this particular family festivity and its excesses in terms of consumerism, I have always enjoyed the shimmer and brightness of the decorations which help compensate from the poor amount of proper daylight so close to the winter solstice. I can finally feel the weight of a small camera in my bag, now being the proud owner fo a Lumix LX5 to relace the LX1 stolen form the not so ethical society Conway Hall. It feels as familiar as my old companion, but I am slightly intimidated and put off by its faster and flashier performance. The call for paper for the BOOK LIVE! Conference I am organizing in June in collaboration with Richard at South Bank Univiersity, is finally out. I never thought it would take so long to do so and be so nerve racking too. After working for so long on the wording of the rationale and the research questions they started to appear very broad and generic and I became very anxious. Good feedback and expression of interest has done little to ease my doubting mood. It is strange how I am always prepared to take criticism to heart but not praise or positive feedback which I always take for polite gestures or figures of speech. I am still excited at progresses so far, Joan Fontcuberta and Sharon Gallagher ( D.A.P founder and director) for keynote speakers and the full twelve hours of John Cage Empty words by wandelweiser and Sylvia Schimag, and the possibility and the prospect to shape and curate the whole event according to responses to the call for papers, presentations and durational readings. How exciting to have this opportunity; well worth I guess, the stress and doubt that will for sure be part of it until it is over.
-- There are two highlights this month, Heart and Soul 25th anniversary in the South Bank ballroom last Friday night, hundreds of people dancing away to great tunes, a few great bands, various fancy dress stalls where you could become whoever you wanted, a few karaoke machines and playstation dancing games, great atmosphere, fantastic grooves and moves, I went to meet Roz after the Postmodernism exhibition at the V@A. What a welcome contrast. The exhibition was good, perhaps because predominantly about design and pop music, rather than ‘contemporary art’ of the 80’s; it contained as much careless pot pourri and mixing of styles and genres that the YBA’s works for exemple, but without the usual D.I.Y aesthetic and flippant oneliners. There was great craftmanship and I loved revisiting the likes of Grace Jones, Klaus Nomi and Blade Runner. What felt strange was seeing a big part of what I refer to as my recent past having become cultural History and to see what had made it and what had been left behind, trying to identify what the criterias might have been and according to whom; good taste for sure, luxury items rather than cheaper models, craftsmanship and conventional good taste, overall very conventional and middle class. The fact that this was taking place at the V@A was certainly a factor. I imagine a similar survey at the centre Pompidou or MOMA or Palais de Tokyo, surely the selection would have been very different. I was also wondering if enough time had past yet for postmodernism to decant and become part of history. When does memory become history, doesn’t it need to be eroded and recalled a few times before it can be molded into something historical or disappear into oblivion. Heart n Soul provide artistic opportunities for those with learning disabilities, artists can explore, express themselves and learn. To celebrate this special milestone, they were hosting their annual Beautiful Octopus Club night at the Royal Festival Hall to celebrate 25 years of great work. Roz was there with a few colleagues and all her disabled clients form the community place she has been running for years in Tottenham and for which she has develop many creative ventures, such as discos, recording studios, rap videos etc. I couldn’t believe my ears nor my eyes. Everybody was dancing regardless how severe their disability, physical, mental or psychological, not all moves were intentional or unrestricted but all were completely unhibited. I never thought I would see so much fantastic dancing. I was the one feeling self conscious at first, but some of Roz’s group quickly put a stop to that, taking my hands for a dance or simply smiling at me. I had such a great time. Roz told me that these discos are always fantastic. She has some autistic and disabled clients that have become great djs and dancers and are in great demands for private parties in their family and neighborhood circles and could become very successful in the wider world if they had the right business support.
-- The other highlight is going to see Gerhard Richter at Tate modern. A fantastic exhibition, painting at its best; for me an experience comparable to Ed Ruscha at the Hayward last year or Rothko at Tate Modern in 2008. All very different of course but comparable mastery of the medium and equally sublime at time. Though I am not completely taken by Richter’s abstract work, only towards the end of the exhibition does it start working for me when combined with his figurative work, like for exemple in the twin towers painting. I like the markmaking which feels as tactile and sensuous as his figurative works but the humanity, melancholy, poetry are sometimes is gone. Only one of his sculptures work for me, the square structure with taught wires and panes of glass which become alive when you walk past it, sending you back multiples combinations of its reflected self, reminiscent of the various ways his blurring brush strokes temper with the reality or essence of the object or subject painted. Nothing original in my taste, what works best for me are, the candle, the chair, the toilet roll, betty, in all their complex simplicity. Same for the Bader Meinhof series, their removal from history, the repetition of certain images, really brought me to the fate of each individual, as victims, victims of their personal choices, victims of a system. The exhibition was too big for me to take it all in, I hope to go back before it finishes early January. Film, Tacita Dean installation for the Turbine hall was equally rewarding and satisfying in its apparent simplicity, beautifully thought through, enjoyable to watch for a long time since each loop brought together evocative combinations of scenes of nature, architectural constructs and abstract shapes and colors; this despite the strange composition and scale of the projected image, neither single nor double screen, but a vertical film strip of 2 or 3 static frames denying the linear passage of time since their respective content was never sequential. This random and simultaneous narrative device kept me involved, looking for pattern and logic without ever finding any.Sunday 11th December 20.30pm
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Atmosphere
high pressure, getting stressing
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News
- Berlusconi is gone
- Violent end to Wall street peaceful occupation
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book
Umberto Ecco, this is not the end of the book
Desmond Morris, the naked ape
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Tip
There are many small ways to resist
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month 2 Remembrance and game over
-- The small publishers fair on the 11th and 12th of the 11th of the year 11 is concluding the annual two months whirlwind that usually follows summer; beginning of academic year and teaching, planning of funding and projects for the year, concluding a MOIblog cycle and bringing it all together in THE YEAR, in time for the two London book fairs, the Whitechapel at the end of september, and the small publishers one just gone, production of more volumes of my 12/12 series of archive photo books. For this year volume 2 and volume 3, waiting for godot (benches and dead animals) and alarm! French cock (farm animals and words within pictures), volume 4 and 5 are almost ready but didn’t make the deadline. THE YEAR volume 4 saw the addition of a free image supplement consisting of an image, a news headline and a personal tip for each MOIblog entry, plus an index of all headlines dated, thus acting as an even more condensed summary of a whole year. For THE YEAR volume 5, I have found a way of packaging simply and effectively both publications in a transparent cellophane envelope, making it all more presentable and protected.
-- This period is always quite exciting and full of enjoyment, a prelude to winter, winding down and hoping for some sort of hibernation which never really comes, but the idea of it always lingers at the back of my mind, as a poetic ideal; long evening by the fireplace knitting watching films or reading all the books gathered with urgency in the past few months, yet waiting in piles for my attention. I do not have a fireplace and I rarely stop doing something else until late in the evening unless so tired by a long day of travelling and teaching that I end up watching something entertaining but not too demanding on TV for an hour or two. This period is usually followed by a spell of pre-winter blues usually triggered by the realisation that once more restlessness and impossible goals will prevent me from achieving blissful hibernation. I think this is where I am now though the blues is under control so far despite the blow of having my beloved Lumix camera stolen during the small publishers fair at Conway Hall. I left it behind at the bookroom table, on the radiator behind our display, together with all our bits and pieces, not thinking too much of it, since I was one of the last ones to leave with the organisers and the space was locked up for the night, with all exhibitors books left behind. Only Conway hall caretakers and cleaners have access before we arrive at 10.30am. But sure enough my camera was gone in the morning, I was gutted and in shock, not really wanting to believe it had happened, looking everywhere at home just in case, asking everybody at the fair, checking with caretakers etc… despite the clear evidence. What was even more confusing and upsetting is that caretakers refused to use the word stolen, trying to insist that I had lost it and that perhaps cleaners would find it. The same arguments was used by staff and management of ‘ the ethical society ‘ when I tried to get them to take some sort of responsibilities since the camera was ‘taken’ during the night when only few of their own staff had access. It took around six unsuccessful and stressing phone calls and two visits before I gave up.
-The caretakers arguments was that they were sorry but the cleaners didn’t ‘find’ my camera, the person in charge of booking accused me of being careless, which I didn’t deny, and unreasonable, which I do deny, before hanging up on me in mid sentence, one said it was the responsibility of the book fair organisers and that perhaps they had found the camera, another suggested that perhaps some of the exhibitors on either side of me had ‘taken’ it, none of them apologised or showed any understanding or empathy. By the cagey, dismissive and definitely unethical reaction of all involved at the ethical society, it is clear to me that mine wasn’t the first complaint. To cut a long story short, I reported it to the Police, but it is not their job to investigate, I reported it to the ethical society, but it has nothing to do with them, they referred me back to the fair organizers. I reported it to my insurance company who said there is nothing they can do since it didn’t take place at home and the camera wasn’t itemized on my policy as an object covered while roaming. I add it to my long list of legalized theft and unfair policies. I am mourning and missing dearly the only object that I always carried with me since 2005, I am so used to its presence, that even now I notice the weight difference in my handbag, I often reach for it automatically in my compulsive urge to record the everyday, before realizing that it is not there, my disappointed hand reaching for my blackberry instead. I am checking possible replacement and will probably stick to the same, going for the latest upgrade the LX5, why change something that suits me perfectly. Yet another blow to my fragile finances and It cannot wait for Christmas, as some suggested, anyway I can’t think of anybody who would treat me with a new camera.
-- The Wandelweiser have been and gone. It sounds like the title of a film. Or as Michael Pisaro reported to me, courtesy of a friend of his, who refers to the Waldenweiser. Such a perfect name. I added that I was sure Thoreau would be proud or even become a member. I had came up with wonderweiser or wanderweiser but Waldenweiser says it all. It was such a treat to have four days of it at the ICA, sharing the bill and most evenings with Grupart, Jenny Walsh multiple personalities art and sound project. I am not sure the cohabitation was a successful one, the two collectives being quite incompatible by nature, it was hard and quite exhausting as an audience member to fully engage with both. In the end most people didn’t and little dialogue did take place. Though I did grow to enjoy and begin to understand some of the recurring motives of her mad multifaceted project, to the point of being able to identify and relate more or less to different personalities. As to the Wandelweiser, I was very interested and curious to see, hear, experience the work in a different context than the perfectly suited Die station in Neufelden, where works are able to come alive as intended and by the composers themselves in front of knowing or understanding or open minded audiences, which was far from being the case in London’s I.C.A; being in the heart of the city, ambient noises were rather intrusive, setting up and sound checks were done by a team of super efficient engineers on a tight schedule, the setting was rather conventional with an elevated stage in front of rows of seats separated by a central aisle, not allowing for much creative audience/players configuration; a set up more suited for Jenny Walsh compositions but not so much to the low level, sometimes close to silence, and more intimate or introspective Wandelweiser works and the W. being what they are, trying to adapt to situation rather than imposing their ways, they made do with what was there. So that sometimes, like in Radu’s work, the sound levels ended up lower than what I referred to as sea level, making it a very different work and dynamic between players and between work and audience. Same for Marcus piece Underholz where video projection of previous manifestations of the work and live orchestration should have been more integrated, or in Manfred’s challenging minimal piece where the constraints of the space prevented the audience from having much choice of being there or not. It didn’t mean that the works were unsuccessful, not at all and far form it. I was very curious and nervous to witness this shift of context, not sure if it could sustain the level of subtleties, complexities and poetry I have experienced in Neufelden for the past four years. I was relieved and delighted to realize that it did while also becoming quite challenging without ever being confrontational; the two often go together in experimental music. Most successful for me was Jürg’s piece which felt utterly complete, beautiful and poetic too, with a certain melancholy. It drew me in to such an extent that I felt I could understand the structure and started to take part with my breathing and silent voice, in the exchange between the clarinet and the obo which were so in tune and in time with each other that it created a continuous yet random flux of tones that one could follow and add to. It was breathtaking in more ways than one; only by getting into the dialog did I realize how difficult it must be for them to keep up the continuous rhythm of exchange, the length of the tones, the smoothness of the attacks and the low levels. Before, after and in between, there was plenty of time for discussions and lively banter as always. It felt quite peculiar to have them all here in my city and having to juggle with other commitments. The event also allowed me to reconnect with Richard Whitelaw, one of the curators and producer of the Cut & Splice festival the W. were part of. He is responsible for the first outing of VINST for San expo festival in Scarborough in 2005. I haven’t had much to do with him since. I like finding meaning in simple things so I did get a lot of mileage from one little coincidence. The Wandelweiser photograph printed in the Cut & Splice program was chosen by Michael Pisaro and also used to illustrate the history of the collective he wrote for their website; it was taken by Joachim Eckl in Neufelden five years ago; it is of a concert, a few of them sitting in a semi circle, with view of the Lagerhaus behind. In the forefront there are the back of two heads, mine and Hazel’s. It was both our first W. experience, we had stopped by for 3 days on our way to a little eastern European road trip. I had met some of them, Marcus and Christof on previous occasion there and in Munich, but never heard them play before. I was hooked thereafter, and joining them every summer since; seeing more and more affinities with what I was trying to achieve with my work. Joachim caught this first moment on camera, Michael used it to illustrate his history of the W which includes the annual wandelweiser summer meetings in Neufelden that Joachim is hosting so generously, thus making me the ultimate and permanent groupie that I have become. I use the word groupie knowingly, it is not the most generous or accurate of word but one that resonate with me better than fan or follower or friend, though I consider myself to be all of them and bloody fortunate too.
-- It was great to have Marcus staying a few days before and after the event and a pleasure to see him enjoy London and Brixton so much. We spent long hours talking about ideas, projects and dreams of grand spaces. We had an evening discussing the JUNGLE FEVER project and the prospect of making it happen in Dusseldorf. For someone who says his English is not very good, he did pretty well in giving me sharp and insightful feedback on the lack of clear boundaries of the project as it had developed since Beirut and Singapore; a pretty tough sort of tutorial session that really got my brain juices boiling for a while. I was aware and in full agreement, and welcomed the fast exchange that took place, concepts being formulated as words were exchanged, comparing respective methodologies, finding ways around, imagining and dreading what could take place in Dusseldorf. It all became very exciting and very confusing too. So much so that quite late into the night I was ready to call it quit. I was very surprised in the morning, tired after very little sleep, to discover that overnight, solutions had appeared and I knew exactly and clearly what and how to proceed for the next stage of the project.too.
-- I started writing these words, sitting comfortably in a white sofa in the beautifully designed surroundings of Marneix, my sister’s home where I am staying for the week, since my humbler abode is being occupied by Helene Garcia, the artist in residence at the centre des livres d’artistes. Change of habits, a bit of family life and great home cooking, my nephew Louis and I have experimented with home made tagliatelis and raviolis, my mouth is watering just writing about it. The weather is unusually mild and sunny, so that the mushroom season is still on. I found a few gorgeous cepes (porcini in Italian) in the woods nearby and ate some at almost every meals; pan-fried, in an omelet, in raviolis, with fresh pasta, in a quiche, with potatoes, in sauces etc… No complaints there, the past two autumns have been too wet for mushrooms. There are stories of people having found and sold over 500 kilos in the past month, (around 10 pounds a kilo). Every morning the roadsides are full of cars badly parked, left there in a hurry by mushroom pickers. There are little chances of finding any eatable ones after 10am, their absence made even more noticeable by the traces left behind; dark hole among leaves, upturned poisonous ones, broken branches, leaving little to the imagination as to the size or the numbers picked by previous gatherers. I am finishing these words back in London, feeling refreshed and in good form after many early nights in bed with a good book after a day of intense diplomatic negotiation at work; trying to accommodate the demands and ambitions of a young artist in residence, not always realistic or in tune with the ways things are done away from a big city or an art school. It was rather exhausting and stressing too at times, but in the end we got there and her project is progressing nicely. I am not going to be there for the launch at the end of the week, I am confident it will work out. Christmas is everywhere already, and has been since Halloween, every year the advertising machine starts a bit earlier, as if to compensate for the recession, giving even more chances for us to succumb. Same discussions are taking place, where to celebrate? Who is going to sacrifice themselves to welcome the whole family for an evening and a day? Can we put all our differences aside? Why do we bother? For the kids of course and ageing grandparents / parents, it might be their last. I so wished I could skip it all. I have already said that if the weather created havoc again with transport as in the 2 previous years, then I will stay in London, happy to give it all a miss, not prepared to pay a fortune to be there on time, as last year. I have ordered a new camera, the LUMIX LX5 , latest descendant of my beloved LX1. St Paul's is still occupied by peaceful protesters and their tent, Alan Bennett visited today and donated two signed manuscripts to their temporary library.. what a strange gesture.Monday 28th November 20.50pm
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Atmosphere
high pressure but good
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News
- Steve job is dead, Kaddafi too
- Eurozone is struggling to survive
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book
Umberto Ecco, this is not the end of the book
Desmond Morris, the naked ape
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Tip
To create is to resist, to resist is to create
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month 1 big leap, small steps
-- Yes a big leap for this first entry of the 6th year of MOIblog. I have decided to jump to monthly entry and to add to them as I go; a small change, possibly a drastic one, but a much needed one. I wish European leaders would do the same and finally stop burying their head in the sands of their own self-importance and hollow words, as the ostrich does when it senses danger. It doesn’t work for the ostrich so what would it work for a naked ape. Trillions of deficits growing day by day, Greece about to default, Italy possibly to follow, Spain and France are not far behind. Yet the only solution they can all agree on is to increase the bail out fund and use quantitative easing to throw down the hungry pit of our starving economies which themselves rely on our greed and obsessive consumerism in order for them to sustain growth or just survive. I call this a dog chasing its own tale, or the elephant in the room syndrome, or the naked king / the emperor new clothes or the blind leading the blind, this is an awful statement to make as it implies that being blind implies being aimless and clueless. In other words this is madness. In a way I can’t wait for the total collapse, which is inevitable, they are bound to finally catch their tales and run out of zeros soon. Any business would have filed for bankruptcy long ago. Why are they allowed to keep going like this? It might be serious since the church is getting involved, the Vatican has decided to start blaming banks and industries immoral greed for the current situation and demanding that a robin hood kind of tax be imposed on all bank transactions and a cap on the ludicrous wages and bonuses of some. This is a good move I think, providing you don’t compare the Vatican financial policy to their stand on contraception and homosexuality. I am simply wondering whether they are including themselves as part of the problem, being one of the richest state in the world, they mush be involved in some sort of ruthless investments too.
-- Meanwhile St Paul’s front yard is being occupied by peaceful anti capitalist protesters who have set up camps in order to create maximal impact and diplomatic and political havoc. A brilliant idea, now St Paul’s renovation have been completed, it is once more a major touristic and religious landmark and one of London’s pride and joy. The primary worry of those in powers was of course the possible negative impact of this in relation to the upcoming Olympic games. The church wants to be seen as being on both side at the same time, authoritarian and respected on one side, but empathising with the cause and not wanting to be linked to any violent or ugly evictions as happened recently with Irish gypsies in Essex. Mind you we didn’t here the church comment on this awful eviction and uprooting of dozens of families who had been settled there for decades for some. We can safely say that the church possibly turned a blind eye like many others. It is hard to do once it is happening in your own backyard. Footages of the Dale farm occupants were awful to watch, so much violence on both sides, so much blind brutality widely and almost proudly broadcasted as a sign of our government strength and authority. Rules are there to be respected, full stop, regardless of the context or the source of the problem. Ironic when you consider the fact that by looking at what is happening in the world of those who makes these rules, the politicians, the bankers and the economists then it seems that for them it is a case of “ do as I say, not as I do”. Imagine the chaos if we were running and managing our family affairs and our finances the way they do run countries and the global economy, or run them to the ground. Wouldn’t they be a bit more careful if they were dealing with their own wealth or welfare or security?
-- What worries me most, is not their incompetence or sense of self importance or desire to preserve the wealth and power of their kind at the expense of the rest of the world, what worries me most is our indifference, and the general apathy of the people at large as long as hey can still allowed to go on with our little consumer lives, lead by the various bait the media bombard us with in order to keep us hungry and wanting. I do rant a bit, I do complain but what I am really prepared to do to make it stop? I do my best in my own little ways, trying to live truthfully and authentically for the benefit of all, with a certain moral and ethical code and a politic of gentle yet firm resistance to ruthless ambitions and exploitative ways in all areas. But surely there must be more I can do.
-- I have just reread Stephane Hessel ‘ indignez vous! / Time for outrage, a little pamphlet he wrote a couple of years ago, ironically it became the most popular Christmas present that year. He is warning us of our passivity in the light of the current global situation in the world and denouncing violence, which never wins in the end. The book is stapled and published by a small publisher in Toulouse. It sold millions; he is not taking any royalties for it. He was a well respected diplomat politicians and well published author now in his 90’s, a hero of the French Resistance, in exile with Charles de Gaulle in London, imprisoned in concentration camps, tortured by the Nazi. He later contributed to the writing of the ‘declaration des droits de l’homme’. In this powerful essay he urges young people to revive the ideal of resistance to the Nazis by peacefully resisting the “international dictatorship of the financial markets” and defending the “values of modern democracy.” He refers to France’s treatment of illegal immigrants, the influence on the media by the rich, cuts to the social welfare system, French educational reforms and, most strongly, Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians. “When something outrages you, as Nazism did me, that is when you become a militant, strong and engaged,” he writes. “You join the movement of history, and the great current of history continues to flow only thanks to each and every one of us.” He finishes the book with this great slogan. To create is to resist, to resist is to create. He has written one or two follow up books, as the main criticism was that he wasn’t offering many solutions. In the same way that we are always expecting a remedy for all ailments or a response to al our questions, not prepared to look for it ourselves. I do think that for a start if more people became more outraged and started to look for answers themselves instead or relying on what they are spoon-fed by politicians and the media, that would be a good start. A first step always calls the next one.
-- Meanwhile, I am busy finishing THE YEAR vol 5 in time for the small publishers fair next week. I have started to do some teaching for South bank university. I went to france for ten days, the cdla is joiing the 21st century, we are going to join facebook, have a blog and a regular newletter wit artistis contribution, exciting development. I have been tea-total for a few weeks now after my liver and beloved pirates decided to let me know in no uncertain terms that I had been ignoring them for too long and it was time to stop and clean up my act or else…. This manifested bad a few long days of intense nausea and much puking. It was fair and I got the message loud and clear and had no trouble going back to the lifestyle that was negotiated with them a few years back but abandoned for the past year or so, in need of a break. I have to say that so far body and mind are really happy to get back to what do them most good. I have had visitors staying every week this month, Debby from Leeds, nephew and niece Maud and Gregoire during half term, Eva and Maz from Brighton for a London weekend and Marcus from Düsseldorf for the Wandelweiser special at the ICA, wonderful to see so many of them in London, so soon after Neufelden, wonderful to have him here for a few days afterwards. I did a second reading of Story of O for Eva and Maz salon event in Saltdean, much more enjoyable and successful than the first one for Polyply in London, as I was able to put to the test Antoine’s and Sandra’s feedback and advice form this summer.Sunday 5th November 01.12am
