what's behind it?

What's inside?

Mary Kelly's lighthouse of feminists' experiences

I've been thinking for a while now how to write about what I saw and learned at the Documenta 12, a big exhibition of contemporary art in Kassel, Germany. Time to write it down before the memories fade completely...

As usual, I already forgot most of the names and all the "important" stuff. What I remember quite well, though, is a way of thinking, a state of mind and the kind of bliss resulting from heavy intellectual labour...

I remember a group of people under the guidance of an admirable teacher, getting cerebral exercise in onion-peeling; finding layers within layers, within layers, within layers...

I remember being more than relieved to find myself with people and most of them not confusing their dislike of a work with its being art or not.

I remember thinking, rethinking, twisting things, looking at them again and again, feeling - really dissecting them... Asking zillions of questions:

Simple questions, but hey, once you start there's no stopping: What's the artist's object? How is it transferred? Why this way? Why not another? Do you actually understand the accompanying text? [good one!] Where does it come from? Where is it going? References? Memories? Facts? Beliefs? And - in what way can a museum destroy art?

I remember transformative experiences: meeting a work of art, not understanding it, and stepping away an hour later being all enthusiastic. I remember going to bed at night still brooding about something I saw, or heard, or felt, trying to catch it and find out what's behind it...

I also remember tired feet, an ugly city including pretty depressed looking people, a yummy turkish dish (forgot the name again...), cheap beer from plastic (?) bottles and lunch packages made from the hotel's breakfast buffet that fell apart in their paper wrappings after being tossed around for hours in our bags. Oh yes, and long busrides...

Alexander in battle, mosaic from Pompeji -
a still familiar viewpoint of history...

... transposed into "magnet" by Simon Wachsmuth
"Where we were then, where we are now", 2007

Celestial Teapot, 2006/07

Lukas Duwenhögger's proposal for a memorial site for the persecuted homosexual victims in the Third Reich

disgression concerning a noteworthy custom

In Styria - especially in the Southwest - summer weekends are readily dedicated to pilgrimages up a serpentine path; the destination of the travel being a so-called Buschenschank.

The term Buschenschank is composed of a) the Busch; meaning "bush" or "scrub", and b) Schank/Schenke; meaning "tavern" or "bar": in old times, a pine twig was attached above the door to indicate the bar was open. The drinks served, though, have nothing to do with pines, but with far more delicate plants: vines, of course.

Another famous term for Buschenschank, namely Heuriger (more typical for Vienna, Lower Austria and the Burgenland) renders more precisely the actual noteworthiness of the entire institution: heurig meaning "of this year" tells us that the wine served in a Heuriger is "young"; made during the last year. And, most importantly, a Buschenschank/Heuriger is allowed to serve only its own wine, must etc. Food is usually locally produced as well.

Despite the clarification of all this it remains rather difficult to render the pilgrim's bliss when sitting amidst the vine, the late summer sun in his face and a glass of some "noble drop" in his hand. Due to this dizzying kind of bliss the way home down the serpentine can actually prove to be quite adventurous, yet, faithful and loyal to Bacchus, the pilgrim humbly accepts all occurring hardships...

Old People's Home

Peng Yu & Sun Yuang: Old People's Home

Picture: Nicolas Lackner, Landesmuseum Joanneum

It was a cynical, eerie and saddeningly comical sight:

13 wheelchairbound wax dodderers dancing a hopelessly disorganized and clumsy ballet in some sort of arena inside the museum (Kunsthaus Graz).

Rolling towards the visitors with senile determination, stopping in time just to bump into each other and get stuck for good...

An old man looking like Arafat, fast asleep and drooping backwards, did not notice that he got pushed around in circles by some other semi-concious wheelchair driver, until visitors took pity on them and disentangled the tragicomic spectacle.

With white hair, age spots and wrinkles, these old men looked alarmingly real - you'd expect them to snore, or cough, or startle up. But - nothing. Still, the inanimate handicapped stirred up much puzzlement, compassion as well as reservation. Despite the inanimatedness of the mobile exhibits, visitors and museum staff involuntarily found themselves in the role of nurses and caretakers in the Old People's Home.

(One of the countless China-exhibitions at the moment: China Welcomes You, Kunsthaus Graz, until the 2nd of September)

blues

so...

here I am...

Austria is green and beautiful and comforting, liked it used to be.
The climbing plant under my window has finally reached the balcony.
My home smells like it used to and they still sell Mannerschnitten.

Everything is really fine except that I don't want to be here.

My mind is moving through change as gracefully as a cat thrown into the bathtub.

Pray for me... (I mean it)

1st week in Greece - Athens!

What a change, coming from quiet, idyllic Lund to a city like Athens!

Today is Sunday and it's quiet – no construction noises, few sirens, only the traffic of downtown Athens, the dogs and the birds. But the days before – my God! - it was crazy!

This city – how to describe it? - from the first two hours on I had the impression of it being an animal, constantly roaring, breathing, barking, booming, lurking about all around me. Half of Greece's population lives in this seemingly neverending concrete jungle. Although every big city is stressful and restless, Athens is so far the most extreme I've ever seen. It is fun, the first few days, to walk the streets in the constant alertness needed to make it in a big city. But then, when your feet start to automatically avoid dog poo, human pee or construction holes, you have the freedom to look up and see people's faces...

I admit that I forgot how much human appearance is shaped by the surroundings. In Athens, the unnerving chaos and madness of this city, and maybe also the hardships of life in Greece in general, have carved deep signs already in young people's faces. All seem to walk with difficulty from some sort of invisible weight. Especially women carry their worries in tilted basins and on rounded shoulders. What strikes me most, having lived almost a year in Sweden, is that almost everyone in this city looks unhealthy – apart from the stress of Athens' everyday life, let's not forget the abundance of cheap fast food, the daily consumption of meat, and the clouds of cigarette smoke that seem to engulf everything...
In a way, I feel very sad for what has happened to Greece – it becomes evident that this country was not really prepared for so-called “modernity”. Theo tells me that almost everyone here owes tremendous amounts of money to the banks (due to a scam organized by politicians, stock exchange companies and foreign companies in '99), and my innocent mind is still struggling with the fact that in a European country corruption and cheating are practiced on a daily basis. Politicians and companies do not even care to hide their money-making schemes from the public. All in all, it's sad.
Under all of this, though, I see amazingly lively and passionate people. So far, everyone I've encountered has been very warm and hospitable. It's refreshing to meet people who have their heart out on their jacket, and not burried under many layers that can only be passed through repeated proofs of trustworthiness. Also, I see that many people here carry in them a sort of faith like I have never witnessed before – it's not really dictated by doctrines or intellectual efforts, it comes directly from the heart (and I guess, it is also what saves them...)
I'm really looking forward to see more, since everyone tells me that Greece is wonderful, except for Athens...