DasArts Day 11.
The Garden of Crossing Tiger Cubs
This ain't no tiger cub...
...and this ain't no garden.
Piss and Vinegar
DasArts Day 12.
Blanchot: "The disaster takes care of everything." The acknowledgement of this dictum, the recogniton of its truth, the realisation of what it might mean for us (a swallowing motion, a quick brave smile, an acquiescing nod of the head) scares the hell out of me. Please. Do not go there. Disaster must never ever (either consciously or sub-consciously) be coveted or courted for its (however needed) relief.
What does one do after such knowledge?
DasArts Day 13.
Lying sleepless in Amsterdam I try to focus my breath, label my thoughts, do a bit yoga (in bed) etc. but it's no use, I'm just not sleepy. So I get up, pull on my favorite Patagonia fleece jacket, grab a book and read until it's time to go to the gym (and then DasArts).
Re-enacting a moment of extremely high stress. Choreographed by Sato, two dancers step through a scene from Dan Bodner's story (the figure on the right is 'carrying' Dan's bicycle).
DasArts Day 14.
3.10.01. Dress rehearsal (DasArts participants and their dancers learn to fire the Walther P5).
"Through the instruction of his guru he will recognise them as his own projections, the play of the mind, and he will be liberated."
DasArts Day 15.
Speaking of things generous did I mention that the Hotsy-Totsy Club has reinvented itself as the Bellona Times? And that Ray has gone on to generously reinvent the old Generosity portal at weblogs.com?
Oh and elsewhere R. reports that C. reports that Dr. John Lilly has died. (He died on September 30th at 86 years of age. John Cunningham Lilly was one of my teenage heros and a scientist in the absolutely best sense of the word, the father of man-dolphin communication, sensory deprivation tanks, ketamine experiments, altered states. While I've never really stopped to acknowledge the fact, it seems to me now that John Lilly drew many of the maps which have guided (and still guide) my life. I never met the man in person but I feel I owe him a lot. So much so that I'm thinking of going to the Dolphinarium in Harderwijk on Wednesday to offer his memory a piece of cake...)
Lust, Aversion, Indifference
This week at DasArts has been an extraordinary experience. Extremely intense, everyone working incredibly hard, with many brilliant (beautiful) scenes and conversations. Filled with special moments like the other evening, when Tom and I, kicking leaves and walking in the dark, found ourselves discussing the relationship between a perpetrator and his or her victim and this poem by Yeats:
Since the U.S. declared the 'War on Terrorism' this page has been seeing lots of action.
Yep. I think you could call it a 'love attack'.
Oh. oh. I uploaded the above statement several hours before the US started its raid on Taliban positions this evening. Believe me, I was referring to something other than world affairs.
(But yes, I'll admit it's as uncanny as my entry for September the 10th: "Is nothing sacred?" "No.")
DasArts Day 16.
The Garden of Crossing Tiger Cubs
Dawn is happening, always happening, somewhere. (While you read this the sky is lightening somewhere on earth.) This morning the dawn finds me bicycling as fast as I can down the De Clerqstraat (like a bomb). It's windy and clear. Out of nowhere a pigeon swoops past low over my shoulder and settles itself on the road in front of me. There is a moment of sharp focus, a flash, a convergence of air, movement, shadow... Then...
... One of the two-man (two-boy? two-girl?) crew of the jet black stealth bomber passing overhead. Once we were two kids, friends, walking arm in arm across an ancient, paved, playground. Tracing circles and figure-eights. Yelling to others: "Hey! Hey! Get out our way! We just got back FROM the U.S.A!" Now we are on our way back from Afghanistan. Tracing the big circle. On our way back to our base in Ohio, Kansas, or Missouri. On our way back to... We are somewhere in the middle of a 24 hour round trip across a couple of dawns. No. We do not need to sleep. We have been trained. We have been specifically selected to do this.
(A journalist at the Pentagon: "Do you use pills to stay awake?" "No sir. But we've got some Gatorade.")
(We are two, just-out-of teenage vampires.) We two, just-out-of teenage, vampires, are alone with each other's thoughts. We pass like thoughts in the night.
There are moments of great beauty up here. We watch the lights blink in the cockpit and listen to cool symphonic rock (Sigur Rós over Iceland). We feel like gods. We look out the windows and see the stars pass below us.
DasArts Day 17.
Hey everyone, I think congratulations are in order. This evening's 'Shooting History' presentation was a success. I'm totally happy with the work and the discussions. You are a great group!
(on the collecting of data and the re-enactment of past events...)
How appalling that they paint proper names (ie. the names of groups of victims) on their bombs and missiles. Somehow this news shocks me even more than the fact that they've started throwing them.
"A screaming comes across the sky..."
Maudlin Music for 21st Century Wartime
Sigur Rós: Agaetis Byrjun. (Yes, I know you listened to this last year. Listen again...)
from the 'Why I'll Never Be Capable of Thinking Consistently Department...'
Re: yesterday's warning from the U.S. government to the television networks that Bin Laden's broadcasts may contain hidden messages. Rest assured, there are NO secret messages hidden in this weblog.
(My friend Stewart was right... artists and architects have absolutely nothing to say...)
as in God, Extreme Context.
as in Yuko Hasegawa and the Istanbul Biennial.
Franz Erhard Walther (Thanks Joke!)as in this page and this page.
Aaarggh. How can one make a
Three years ago I noted: 'Locations exist within the map'.
Fermi's pile design: balls of uranium within a graphite moderator.
Nuclear Garden II
(a.k.a. The Garden of Crossing Tiger Cubs.)
Robert Smithson writes in The Cryosphere (1966): "66 2/3% of the entire work is invisible." Ha. Ha. If Bob was alive today I'm sure he'd have loved the fact that in Nuclear Garden II (2001) 0% of the 'real' work
DasArts Day 19.
"Gain and victory to others, loss and defeat to myself."
We're not really fighting a 'new war.' We're fighting an old war. If anyone is fighting a 'new war' it's the other guys. They don't have
(Given every situation is workable...) It is purely a matter of RECEPTIVITY whether one maintains his or her autonomy through heat dissipation (Question: "How can a complex machine maintain its identity in the middle of turmoil?" Answer: "By dissipating heat.") or its opposite,'tonglen' (a Buddhist practice whereby one breathes in difficulties and chaos and breathing out good will and order).
We think of 'survivors' as those who walk away from events. We think of anti-survivors as those who disappear by either falling over the edge of the event (Celine's Journey to the End of the Night?) or who are drawn inexorably into the hole in the center of the event (Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth?). Anti-survivors may reappear later as survivor-look-alikes. But they don't walk away.
DasArts Day 20.
Sunday 7 October 2001. (Swans in front of my studio.)
Conference of the Birds
(Saturday, 13 October, 21:00 hrs. Cafe de Jaren Amsterdam.)
Around the table starting on my right: Jalal Toufic -- Frank van de Ven -- Tom McCarthy -- Dan Bodner -- Tim Etchells. We've gathered together to eat and talk. I order the salmon, Jalal and Tim order the enchiladas, Tom and Dan each order steaks, while Frank (who's brought the minidisc recorder and who has already eaten at home) smokes a cigarette. Tom, fiddling a bit with the controls of the minidisc recorder, kicks off the session: "Let's talk about event structures, event fields and the event horizon. What have we learned the last couple of weeks at DasArts?" Ha, Ha, I think. Language is a virus from outer space and now we're all infected. Frank talks about the 'singularity' of his own work as a dancer (a body without history?! a body without organs?!). Jalal remains silent. Dan and Tim talk about a number of films, including one where the protagonist may be possibly be dead. I talk nonsense.
Later I think that consideration of the horizon may be more fruitful than trying to consider the nature of the event. (Concerning 'the event', I'm left with the idea that it's best to picture events as generic patterns or Venn diagrams, expanding and contracting, nested here, overlapping there -- autonomous by definition (that is, as autonomous as the 'self' -- that is, not autonomous at all). Perhaps Jalal's 'radical closures' offer us a clue to this. I am still not clear on Lyotard's definition of the event.)
(Sunday, 14 October, 13:30 hrs. DasArts.)
(Sitting together outside on Kawamata's bridge sculpture) Désirée speaks to me about the feeling that she's walking behind herself. (Literally in Dutch: "Ik heb het gevoel dat ik achter mezelf aanloop.")
(Duplicate. Click and drag to create two overlapping circles, a Venn diagram.) Normally one carries one's horizon along with themselves, but there may be moments of 'self' walk-about when one circle leaves leaves another, when one leaves one's body, one's mind, one's sex behind, or even more eerily, when one is left behind by one's body, mind, or sex, in other words when one crosses or is crossed by one's own horizon. The latter situation may produce considerable distress especially when one does not immediately understand what's happened. (In this case one will probably need to tell the story in an attempt to recover and/or explain to oneself 'the event.' When it is understood the need for the story will cease.)
DasArts Day 21.
Jalal's syllabus for his first week at DasArts: Vampires/The Undead.
DasArts Day 22.
DasArts Day 24.
According to Nancy Mauro-Flude and Hans Bryssinck in the underworld blue chairs never encounter obstacles.
DasArts Day 25.
Lise (Leslie Caron) in An American in Paris reminds me of someone. Who?
(Is (Vampires) a guide book to certain 'aesthetic facts' or a dictionary of (undead/undone) forms? I mentioned to Jalal that I think of it as a collection of tropes (etymologically: tropos, turn, way, -- literally: figurative (metaphorical, ironical) use of a word) and he agreed.)
Nora van der Ziel writes:
"...At present I'm working with mentally and physically (blind) handicapped children. There's always something to experience in this, from sadness to seeing its beauty and humour. Especially when its absurd. Last week I had to swim next to a boy. He could swim on his back but not turn around so I had to swim in front of him, turning him like 60 times..."
Elegance: buddhist mind, taoist body...
Today. The somambulist (he who "does not move while moving") is walking behind the automobile (which "moves on its own").
If the accident has already happened the only thing left for the senses is the comforting stroke of the hand. (*Even more than waiting for its impending shatter-dom*) the recovering body appreciates those small, circular motions of the fingers against the shoulder, the light glide of a hand along the edge of the railing.
Resting and assembling...
"Sighing, he turned and made his way up the path toward the front porch of his house. Lights gleamed friendily in the window. Shivering, he put his hand out and groped for the railing."
(PKD, Recall Mechanism.)
DasArts Day 26.
Review This Life
Gover, Mark. The Narrative Emergence of Identity.
Murray, Kevin. Narrative Partitioning: the Ins and Outs of Identity Construction (Narrative Psychology).
Murray, Kevin. The Construction of Identity in the Narratives of Romance and Comedy (Narrative Psychology).
Todorov, T. The Two Principles of Narrative. Diacritics, vol.1 no.1 (Fall 1971).
Damn! It appears that dolphin skeletons are CITES listed (you need a special permit to obtain one and a separate licence for exhibition purposes). A watery impasse. Why is it that each of my artistic projects since 1997 -- no matter how 'innocently' envisioned-- runs into problems / obstacles?
DasArts Day 27.
DasArts Day 28.
(We're staying today and tomorrow at Duin en Bosch, a large psychiatric hospital near the sea at Castricum.)
and a Chris Crawford link from Kenneth Liu:
DasArts Day 29.
Keys lost (forever it seems).
Maya Deren, Meshes of the Afternoon (1943). (Shot list.)
DasArts Day 30.
Keys (reportedly) found.
Maya Deren, Meshes of the Afternoon (1943).
"You grabbed my hand and we fell into it. Like a daydream or a fever."
(Godspeed You Black Emperor)
Robert Wicks: The Therapeutic Psychology of the Tibetan Book of the Dead.
Five Versions of the Self
(Re-considering the game played with a child's hand or foot where one consecutively pulls each of the child's fingers or toes...)
I left early but stayed up late. (Here's to hoping that sleep returns sometime soon...)
No Plot a.k.a. Single-Minded Story-Telling
Tim Etchells writes:
DasArts Day 31.
DasArts Day 33.
A blustiferous day. An awesomely blustiferous day.
We talked on the phone about how, often, when something rare has happened we immediately try to bury it (plough it under) with more of the same. At this point he said (and this is Mr. Lira at his very best): less is more than enough.
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