Jour 3
Mardi 25 Septembre
23. September 2007
La Friche, Marseilles
Theodor di Ricco
Last night, I drank a glass of whiskey in a studio apartment, starring out the kitchen window at the apartment building not more than nine meters in front of me. What strikes me most, arriving from Berlin, is the use of space here. In Marseilles, as well as in most french cities, roads allow either a automobile or a pedestrian to pass. There is not enough space for both. One constantly has to find a space to duck into in order to allow the traffic to flow.
Apartments are small and there is always a tick. Either a window that does not close properly, the hot water in the shower that arrives in blasts, or electrical switches that turn on or off lights that are not wanted In this apartment, there is a leak in the water pipe for the toilet. I have to open the faucet to flush the toilet.
I am staring at Haife's apartment. She is an art teacher at a school for troubled youth. It is a strange coincidence that we are put together. She has given up her bed in this one room studio apartment. She sleeps on a large bean bad mattress. I sleep on an inflatable mattress. I do not feel that bad about taking her bed. She offered and I am twenty years older that her.
Haife picked me up at Bernard's house. Bernard has volunteered to help with the symposium in which I am participating. Last night, he offered his apartment as the first point of recounter for the artists and volunteers.
I was not sweating it. I just had to be at the right place at the right time. I woke up in Berlin Saturday at 8:00. I had four hours to get to the airport. I took the bus 171 that goes directly to the airport. The bus stop is only two blocks from my apartment. It took an hour to arrive at Schoenefeld. I checked in immediately. Went outside, smoked a joint and drank a beer. I bought two newspapers; The Herald Tribune and Die Berliner Zeitung. I passed security easily. I had made sure that I was not wearing metal and had no liquids in my carry-on. Two hours later, I was in Nice.
At the airport in Nice, I decided to take the bus to Marseilles. I could of taken a bus to the station in Nice and from there a train to Marseilles. I was willing to try something new. I would arrive in Marseilles ten minutes earlier than the train and the ticket cost half the price. At 20:30, I was greeted by Rochdy at the train station St. Charles. A train station that has been in reconstruction for the past five years, ever since I have been traveling to southern France.
The bus dropped me off in the back of the station and ten minutes later Rochdy had found me wandering around the station. He carried my yellow travel bag and I followed him to Bernard's house.
I had arrived. I got to the bus stop, airport, bus stop, train station and met Rochdy as planned. Perfect timing. I made it, and I was so happy to offered a cold beer and a buffet piled with fresh vegetables, fruits and various dips.
I get to be an artist for the next ten days. In Berlin I am always busy. My days are full with the various tasks and activities I chose to undertake. I also provide my twenty hours to service to society by working in a bar once a week and in a store selling toys on eBay. These jobs ensure that my rent, my insurance, my gas and electricity are paid.
It is always wonderful to see friends with whom I have participated in other festivals, congresses or symposiums; in Lahti Finland, Seoul Korea or in Sacramento California. In Germany, the custom in greet people is to give the hand. In France, it is the customary kiss-kiss on the cheeks. With my head still in Germany, I gave the hand and realized later my faux-pas when approached to give the cheek.
There is much gossip on which to catch up. The lives of artists, friends and those who move and shake the performance art world from around the world. There is also a group of artists who are new to me and I look forward to meeting and getting to know. We are however all connected, there is only one degree of separation between us. It is just finding that person who connects us.
Always leave the party with a wish for more. Haife had arrived an hour earlier and was ready to leave. I could of stayed longer but I would be pushing it. Haife and walked to her apartment, avoiding the traffic on the narrow streets. We climbed the narrow spiral staircase to her second story apartment and she opened the door with three keys. It is small studio; one chair, one bed, no table, all very minimal and very practical.
It will take me a few days to acclimate to the language, the customs and the lifestyle. I will go to her apartment to sleep, shit, shower and drink a morning coffee, much like Haife. Those societies in Europe fortunate to live in warmer climates, spend much of their time outside on the streets. They eat out more often and the corner cafe is their living room. The do not entertain at home. The apartment becomes a glorified hotel room where one can store life's luggage.
As I starred out the window last night, I wondered how people could live like this. It is simply a different quality of life in which it is nice to visit but I would not want to live here.
The next day, I did the above mentioned; shit, shower and drank my coffee. I locked the door three times behind me and walked to La Friche. Today was the first day of the symposium. Christine and Rochdy explained the week's program. Our fist assignment was to present our concept for a first performance on Wednesday. I had already written a concept entitled, "Could you please do me a favor?"
I have never been one to document my performances. In my concept, I will ask people with cameras to take a picture of me and send me the photo per email. Since I have been dressing myself in yellow for the past fifteen years, this fact is an interesting juxtaposition to the drab colors most people wear. I believe that performance art does not have a beginning or an end. It happens. My yellowness is a constant performance. I have asked the other participating artists to also wear yellow and we would congregate in critical mass at a certain time at a certain place.
The program for Wednesday is to have two performance artists exhibiting their work for twenty minutes throughout the city during the entire day. The selection of artistic pairs were drawn out of hat. I was teamed up with Sylvette Babin, an artist from Montreal and editor of a canadian art magazine entitled 'Esse'. What a coincidence! I have been wanting to collaborate with Sylvette, to get to know her better and hopefully visa versa. This contact could bring me further.
We teamed up afterwards for a brief tete-a-tete. She did not have a specific plan. She would have to see the place where we are to perform. She also does not believe that performance art communicates a message. I believe that it does. Every artist has a message, whether it is banal or profound. When the artist exhibits the performance it is that message that is communicated in the context of time and space. It will be a joy to discuss with her her definition of performance art.
After lunch, there was some training. It was directed by Rochdy who brought us through some stretching, some therapy and dance. I felt awkward running around, bumping into people with my eyes open or closed. I have never did anything like this in my life. I am willing to test my boundaries to a point.
There will be training everyday at 10:00. Christine and Rochdy have constructed a full program. We will be busy from ten to ten everyday. I hope I will find the time in this busy schedule to write.
24, September 2007
Corner of Blvd. des Dames and Rue Robert Schumann Marseilles
Strange. Marseilles in spelt with an 's' at the end in english.
I could not live in this city. Whereas in Germany there is no patine, here there is too much here. Marseilles is loud, aggressive and dirty. Too many people crammed into a small space. Lots of traffic and probably unbearable in the summer heat. The apartments face the street. There are no back courts or gardens in many of the apartment buildings. There are very few parks in the city. Open space is the beach and Marseilles rolls up it's sidewalks at 23:00.
I am sitting at a cafe kitty-corner to the place where Sylvette and I will do our performance Wednesday at 16:30. I sit here trying to figure out what I should do for twenty minutes. I hope I get an idea with which I feel comfortable in exhibiting.
Ornic'Art who invited us to marseilles are a group of performance artist who specialize in urban street actions. They are quite a physical group, consisting of Christine, Rochdy, Dennis, Christian, Jerome and a few others. They like to climb, jump, tackle, lay and run around when exhibiting their performances. I am not like them. I am not that physical and rarely do a performance outside on the street. Performance art in France has it's roots in street theater; juggling, clowning, fire eating or spitting. My performances are often minimal and subtile. My philosophy when approaching performance art is as little as possible.
Sylvette has come up with an idea. For twenty minutes she wants to occupy the telephone booth blowing up various large inflatable objects. The image is interesting but could we do more? I hope I come up with a better idea.
La Friche, Marseilles
Theodor di Ricco
Last night, I drank a glass of whiskey in a studio apartment, starring out the kitchen window at the apartment building not more than nine meters in front of me. What strikes me most, arriving from Berlin, is the use of space here. In Marseilles, as well as in most french cities, roads allow either a automobile or a pedestrian to pass. There is not enough space for both. One constantly has to find a space to duck into in order to allow the traffic to flow.
Apartments are small and there is always a tick. Either a window that does not close properly, the hot water in the shower that arrives in blasts, or electrical switches that turn on or off lights that are not wanted In this apartment, there is a leak in the water pipe for the toilet. I have to open the faucet to flush the toilet.
I am staring at Haife's apartment. She is an art teacher at a school for troubled youth. It is a strange coincidence that we are put together. She has given up her bed in this one room studio apartment. She sleeps on a large bean bad mattress. I sleep on an inflatable mattress. I do not feel that bad about taking her bed. She offered and I am twenty years older that her.
Haife picked me up at Bernard's house. Bernard has volunteered to help with the symposium in which I am participating. Last night, he offered his apartment as the first point of recounter for the artists and volunteers.
I was not sweating it. I just had to be at the right place at the right time. I woke up in Berlin Saturday at 8:00. I had four hours to get to the airport. I took the bus 171 that goes directly to the airport. The bus stop is only two blocks from my apartment. It took an hour to arrive at Schoenefeld. I checked in immediately. Went outside, smoked a joint and drank a beer. I bought two newspapers; The Herald Tribune and Die Berliner Zeitung. I passed security easily. I had made sure that I was not wearing metal and had no liquids in my carry-on. Two hours later, I was in Nice.
At the airport in Nice, I decided to take the bus to Marseilles. I could of taken a bus to the station in Nice and from there a train to Marseilles. I was willing to try something new. I would arrive in Marseilles ten minutes earlier than the train and the ticket cost half the price. At 20:30, I was greeted by Rochdy at the train station St. Charles. A train station that has been in reconstruction for the past five years, ever since I have been traveling to southern France.
The bus dropped me off in the back of the station and ten minutes later Rochdy had found me wandering around the station. He carried my yellow travel bag and I followed him to Bernard's house.
I had arrived. I got to the bus stop, airport, bus stop, train station and met Rochdy as planned. Perfect timing. I made it, and I was so happy to offered a cold beer and a buffet piled with fresh vegetables, fruits and various dips.
I get to be an artist for the next ten days. In Berlin I am always busy. My days are full with the various tasks and activities I chose to undertake. I also provide my twenty hours to service to society by working in a bar once a week and in a store selling toys on eBay. These jobs ensure that my rent, my insurance, my gas and electricity are paid.
It is always wonderful to see friends with whom I have participated in other festivals, congresses or symposiums; in Lahti Finland, Seoul Korea or in Sacramento California. In Germany, the custom in greet people is to give the hand. In France, it is the customary kiss-kiss on the cheeks. With my head still in Germany, I gave the hand and realized later my faux-pas when approached to give the cheek.
There is much gossip on which to catch up. The lives of artists, friends and those who move and shake the performance art world from around the world. There is also a group of artists who are new to me and I look forward to meeting and getting to know. We are however all connected, there is only one degree of separation between us. It is just finding that person who connects us.
Always leave the party with a wish for more. Haife had arrived an hour earlier and was ready to leave. I could of stayed longer but I would be pushing it. Haife and walked to her apartment, avoiding the traffic on the narrow streets. We climbed the narrow spiral staircase to her second story apartment and she opened the door with three keys. It is small studio; one chair, one bed, no table, all very minimal and very practical.
It will take me a few days to acclimate to the language, the customs and the lifestyle. I will go to her apartment to sleep, shit, shower and drink a morning coffee, much like Haife. Those societies in Europe fortunate to live in warmer climates, spend much of their time outside on the streets. They eat out more often and the corner cafe is their living room. The do not entertain at home. The apartment becomes a glorified hotel room where one can store life's luggage.
As I starred out the window last night, I wondered how people could live like this. It is simply a different quality of life in which it is nice to visit but I would not want to live here.
The next day, I did the above mentioned; shit, shower and drank my coffee. I locked the door three times behind me and walked to La Friche. Today was the first day of the symposium. Christine and Rochdy explained the week's program. Our fist assignment was to present our concept for a first performance on Wednesday. I had already written a concept entitled, "Could you please do me a favor?"
I have never been one to document my performances. In my concept, I will ask people with cameras to take a picture of me and send me the photo per email. Since I have been dressing myself in yellow for the past fifteen years, this fact is an interesting juxtaposition to the drab colors most people wear. I believe that performance art does not have a beginning or an end. It happens. My yellowness is a constant performance. I have asked the other participating artists to also wear yellow and we would congregate in critical mass at a certain time at a certain place.
The program for Wednesday is to have two performance artists exhibiting their work for twenty minutes throughout the city during the entire day. The selection of artistic pairs were drawn out of hat. I was teamed up with Sylvette Babin, an artist from Montreal and editor of a canadian art magazine entitled 'Esse'. What a coincidence! I have been wanting to collaborate with Sylvette, to get to know her better and hopefully visa versa. This contact could bring me further.
We teamed up afterwards for a brief tete-a-tete. She did not have a specific plan. She would have to see the place where we are to perform. She also does not believe that performance art communicates a message. I believe that it does. Every artist has a message, whether it is banal or profound. When the artist exhibits the performance it is that message that is communicated in the context of time and space. It will be a joy to discuss with her her definition of performance art.
After lunch, there was some training. It was directed by Rochdy who brought us through some stretching, some therapy and dance. I felt awkward running around, bumping into people with my eyes open or closed. I have never did anything like this in my life. I am willing to test my boundaries to a point.
There will be training everyday at 10:00. Christine and Rochdy have constructed a full program. We will be busy from ten to ten everyday. I hope I will find the time in this busy schedule to write.
24, September 2007
Corner of Blvd. des Dames and Rue Robert Schumann Marseilles
Strange. Marseilles in spelt with an 's' at the end in english.
I could not live in this city. Whereas in Germany there is no patine, here there is too much here. Marseilles is loud, aggressive and dirty. Too many people crammed into a small space. Lots of traffic and probably unbearable in the summer heat. The apartments face the street. There are no back courts or gardens in many of the apartment buildings. There are very few parks in the city. Open space is the beach and Marseilles rolls up it's sidewalks at 23:00.
I am sitting at a cafe kitty-corner to the place where Sylvette and I will do our performance Wednesday at 16:30. I sit here trying to figure out what I should do for twenty minutes. I hope I get an idea with which I feel comfortable in exhibiting.
Ornic'Art who invited us to marseilles are a group of performance artist who specialize in urban street actions. They are quite a physical group, consisting of Christine, Rochdy, Dennis, Christian, Jerome and a few others. They like to climb, jump, tackle, lay and run around when exhibiting their performances. I am not like them. I am not that physical and rarely do a performance outside on the street. Performance art in France has it's roots in street theater; juggling, clowning, fire eating or spitting. My performances are often minimal and subtile. My philosophy when approaching performance art is as little as possible.
Sylvette has come up with an idea. For twenty minutes she wants to occupy the telephone booth blowing up various large inflatable objects. The image is interesting but could we do more? I hope I come up with a better idea.