Experience walking exercise. Three of us had an hour and a half outside to collect five experiences, we had to do it without speaking. Listening to the instructions (?) immediately reminded me of previous performance projects – specifically the one that became Frozen Progress (2001). It was both comfortingly familiar and a reminder of how distant such projects and ways of working have become. It awakened something in me about physicality, or perhaps the absence of physicality in my current practice … something to note.
We climbed, walked, jumped, and danced through a rambling abandoned building almost immediately next to the one in which we are staying. It was playful – like being a child again – there were lots of tests. Testing how we communicated and checked in with each other – more eye contact than usual. Testing the ground – keeping my weight on my back foot and testing the burnt, charred, uncertain ground ahead with my front foot. Testing materials, dropping debris into dark holes that evidently had water at the bottom, whirling plastic tubes around above our heads, touching the velvety dampness of fungi. A large room, the only room where the ceiling was intact, and which was almost entirely dark – the windows had been bricked up, became a nightclub when Fenu shone his torch up through the perforated tile that Aina had found. We danced on the broken glass and I was transported back to nights out in Edinburgh and London … the lyric “stilettos on broken bottles” going through my head. How many times have I found myself becoming emotional and teary on dance-floors ’dancing on my own’ since John died?
Reflecting on the five experiences that we had collected we were unanimous that the most intense was the three of us jumping in synch forward and back on the fire damaged roof … jump forward with both feet and jump back as soon as you feel the roof beneath your feet, did we feel the roof move? Jump again. It moved. Did we hear something? Jump again. And again … again … we definitely heard something and felt something that time. We acknowledge with danger of what we are doing with spontaneous laughter. We stand where we are on the roof directly above a wall – safe ground. The laughter subsides, we turn to the left and in single file walk to the left where we one up one clamber down burnt roofing into the body of the building.
Earlier and in a few sentences about our motivations for being on the residency I had said that I want to re-connect with my artist’s soul – to ’let the crazy out’. The afternoon’s exercise was a very good way to start to doing just that. To pay attention to the people and materials around me, to be in the moment, to test, and to play, to do things for the sake of doing them, to learn and experience by doing. To be present.
Within minutes of arriving I was sitting in the shared kitchen at a table in lively conversation with others artists finishing their late breakfast and drinking strong coffee. Two other artists were sitting at another table, some others were at the hotplates and sink on the large island that is dwarfed by the expanse of the room. I felt immediately welcome and ’at home’.
Three of the artists had arrived from Berlin on Thursday, two to play at a concert on Friday, the other to see the art/residency centre. One of them will stay for the residency the other two left early this morning. Another artist is from Iceland, he arrived yesterday and spent last night in the room where I will be staying. He is also on the residency so is moving to another room … I have no idea why Kaspars (who runs the programme) added this move but I am starting to get the idea that he likes to be a little mysterious.
Other than the dates, and a very last minute email confirming that bedclothes and a towel were provided I have received no information about the residency programme. Walking around the old town in the afternoon with two artists – one from Berlin and one who arrived from Ireland – it became apparent that their email questions about the residency had been ’non-answered’: there would be no-days off, and the content would be revealed when everyone was here.
We wandered not exactly aimlessly around the town, one of the artists has been here often but not on the residency, and they guided us through the street towards the river pointing out traces of the medieval city as well as the soviet occupation, and even the peaceful protests that lead to the Baltic countries liberation. The city is amazing. I have never been somewhere with such a range of architecture, nor such contrast between abandoned and modern or restored buildings.
The building we are staying in is the 1970s extension to a soviet military facility from the 50s. From my windows I can see the vacant 50s building through the silver birches that are now bare. My room is about 6 by 9 meters – I paced it out. That’s 54 square meters just for sleeping, my new apartment in Uppsala is 53 square meters in total! Of course it is not just for sleeping, I am sitting here at a simple table writing now and hope to do so frequently if not daily over the course of the residency.
Yesterday was a long day, I woke at 1.30am to finish packing and catch the 3.15 night bus to the airport. The flight was only one hour and we can’t have been more than 20 passengers. By the time we got back after dinner out, the concert and a drink it was midnight. This morning I went for a run by the lake here, now I have showered and it’s approaching time to meet up with everyone in the kitchen for breakfast.
I have the feeling that I need to be here more than I knew when I made my application.
Arlanda airport – waiting for the plane to Riga where I am on a three week “experimental art” residency – I have no idea what to expect!
I am excited to be embarking on my first proper residency – other ’residencies’ have been self initiated, this is an established programme that I applied for. I even received a small project grant from my local council – where I have taken leave from my job as arts educator to do the residency.
I find myself thinking back to the Goat Island summer school that I attended in 1996. Maybe because I am travelling with clothes – warm clothes as I have been warned that it’s cold in Riga, and in the old factory/industrial building where we will be living and working – a sketchbook, computer and camera, but no materials, which is how I arrived in Glasgow for that project. The summer school was performance based so perhaps I will find myself making performance/live work on the residency. I know that we (six international artists) will be be doing somethings collaboratively, that there are some guest workshop leaders, and after reading an email earlier this morning I know that there will be some outdoor activities.
It is probably a good thing that the last few weeks (months) have been so intense, I have not had time to overthink what I might be doing. I am excited to see what happens!
Blackholes residencies
I am at the studio after having spent my first night in my new apartment in Uppsala – not that I have properly (actually?) moved yet. I got the keys to the apartment on the 6th September but won’t move there until 14th October – it was only on Tuesday this week (20th September) that I sold the apartment in Enköping. I could not think about moving until the current apartment was sold (never good to show an empty apartment to potential buyers). Now the contracts are signed and the new owners want to move in one month! I was expecting at least three months – which is usual here – and to do some decorating before I moved however a faster move has serious financial benefits so I am not complaining!
So, here I am having enjoyed cycling through town to the studio this morning – such a different experience to cycling in Enköping – feeling very happy and content about living here (albeit more like camping at the moment), and thinking that I would write a post about the show in Enköping closing or perhaps something about Brad Pitt’s exhibition in Finland … however …
Just as I pulled up a clean page to begin writing my telephone ’pinged’ – a message from the head of education at the Uppsala Art Museum asking if I am interested in some work there. She had mentioned the possibility when we met at Klas and my opening in Enköping, it seems a curious coincidence that she gets in touch on the first day that I am ’living’ here – something in the air?
We are going to talk more this evening after the presentation/discussion about the artists’ club that I am taking part in at the museum. I think that I need a calming cup of tea … my mind is racing through all kinds of possibilities from a one-off workshop to being a part of the education team at the museum … all of it very exciting and rather unexpected despite it having been vaguely mentioned before.
I must not jump the gun but it is very interesting to wonder whether I might soon be leaving Enköping entirely. My plan was to settle in here, then look for work opportunities while continuing with my position at the council in Enköping. With the impending economic crisis and likely shift to the right in the local council (election results are declared but the composition of the council very unclear) there is an inevitable question over whether or not the long awaited Culture Centre will go head. And even if it does get approved it will take two to three years to be complete. I also have quite definite views about how the Creative Workshop should be run – starting from an all encompassing concept of sustainability. That should be a given but I am already aware that I will meet resistance from certain factions. Nor I am interested in it being kitted with 3D printers (as has been suggested) which are neither appropriate nor environmentally friendly in this context.
I would love the opportunity to teach at the museum and to work with both the collection and temporary exhibitions. I like and feel at home in the education rooms at the museum, they are pretty well resourced and ordered but also sufficiently chaotic so as to feel that anything and everything could happen there. It would be the natural next step for me in terms of my pedagogic work.
Yesterday evening Klas and I made our ’Meet the artist …’ presentation to the arts association (and their guests) that runs the gallery where Rest is showing. The evening did not go as planned, and it was very successful! Klas and I had sketched out a (very) rough plan: short general introduction, ten to fifteen minutes each talking about our practices, references, education, and then some questions to each other about the social role of art. The whole whole thing lasting no more than forty minutes – tops.
We never got to discussing our practices*, the entire hour (and even the following hour of informal discussion over cheese and wine!) was very much focussed on the exhibition. We made what I now think was a very wise decision to sit for our presentation. This immediately made everything more informal and (evidently) discursive – which had always been out intention even if we were not sure that we would achieve it. Having been at a good number of Meet the artist evenings I am aware that some times there is an awkwardness in the air that somehow stifles attempts att dialogue. We did not have to worry about that last night! As we round off talking through how we arrived at, and think about, the title the member who has bought ’Kiss’ asked a question … and we were off! What followed was a very enjoyable and enlightening discussion with questions, reflections, and observations from several of the audience, Klas spoke elegantly and concisely, and I apparently spoke engagingly and emotionally. One of the most active members – she and her husband attend nearly all of these evenings as well as the openings, and they even hop in and invigilate when no-one from the committee can – came up to thank me and expressed a wish that every artist could speak to clearly and intelligently about their work. Needless to say I got a bit teary, which I had also done during the evening when speak about grief and grieving.
During the presentation/discussion I realised that I had unconsciously done something that now seems very significant. I had placed two flag works at the furthest possible distance from each other: the black flag leaning into the south-west corner of the first room is the piece furthest from the two silver flags fluttering and flying from the flag poles up the hill fifty metres north east of the gallery. I am so pleased to have had this realisation, insight, in to my own work/curation. Taking just my pieces into consideration the first in the exhibition is ’Kiss’ – two small wine glasses locked in an embrace, the second is the black flag – an undeniably heavy and intense piece, the final piece is two glittery sparkly silver flags fluttering high in the sky. It would be almost perfect if the silver flags blew away on the breeze … upward and onward to new adventures … no longer bound to the earth … released … free
*of course our practices were implicitly spoken of through paying attention to the works on show.
