Zenny made me go out. Sven made sure I had a good time...
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Smoking red crate and Sint-Baaes Plein
I somehow missed Wednesday. The days are moving by in a chaotic pattern. I am not jet lagged, but I have no idea where I am. The coffins were removed from their carrying bags today and were in shambles. A kind man named Danny that works on Vooruit’s facilities team is repairing them. They will be finished (better than new) on Monday. They still have to make it to Poland and then back to San Francisco, so he has taken the liberty to redesign the lids to insure that they survive. He also gave me detailed recommendations on where to get the best chocolate. I got lucky. Done exploring the city. Gent possesses no sage. Learned a new Dutch word: “wierook.” It means “incense.” Traveled to a priest supply store and purchased tiny catholic charcoal briquettes and oil incense in a pellet like form. It looks like the rocks one would use in their fish tank. Works quite well. Experimented tonight in front of the Sint-Baaes Plein. First and only Cathedral I have ever been in. Seemed like a good spot to test the wierook. Found a plastic red crate. As the coals were catching fire the crate cast a perfect incandescent glow. I think I will use it again. It has been unusually warm in Gent, it just began to rain and I am still invisible.
Glowing Box, Flowers and statue
The box was radiating as the flames kindled the coals for the incense.
Video about Electrified 2
If you can speak Dutch you will love this video!
The show is themed around the idea of "hacking public
space."
Documentation of Grip, Grasp, Grope and Fondle
This video documents the performance and installation that I recently executed at Portland State University's Autzen Gallery. The coffins traveled with me to Gent and will be used in one of my performances...
Possible Intervention Location, Willem De Beersteeg Street, Gent, Belgium, View #1
Pentanque court, facing the water, and is isolated from busy streets.
Possible Intervention Location, Willem De Beersteeg Street, Gent, Belgium, View #2
Might be a perfect spot. Secluded, with a petanque court and surrounded by unused buildings.
Pee Stall for two on Kunstalaan Street
Pee stall on Kunstlaan Street in Between Vooruit and S.M.A.K.
4 out 5 coffin lids destroyed in Trans-Atlantic journey
Coffins met extreme care on plane...one made it!
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
First Thoughts for Electrified 2 Project
Many people assume that they have a right to certain degree of privacy in public places. As we move about there is a tendency to view our public surroundings as potential places where we can assert our sovereign nature. For instance a person might go behind a tree, hide in a shadow, go down an alley, or squat under a bridge to seek public solitude. In parks people lay claim to a patch of earth by unfolding a blanket and spreading it on the ground. Construction zones and yellow “caution” tape steer the public away from certain areas to create temporary private spaces. Cities even build places like phone booths and bathroom stalls for its citizens to enjoy private moments. As technology advances citizens ever increasingly walk around enraptured in the bubble of their cell phones. And, if a person is of a more pensive disposition, he or she might find their public/private moments walking, staring at the ground, while lost deep in thought. Public privacy can also exist on a subtler, subconscious level as we are taught from a young age to ignore certain public occurrences. The drunken man passed out on the ground or the beggar asking for change at the bus stop might appear to us no different than a tree or a lamppost as we make our way to work in the morning. When we stare past the woman being arrested by the police or ignore the man weeping on his stoop we effectively give the person who is having a public/private moment the privacy of our ambivalence. But, regardless of how the privacy manifests, it can only exist through an unspoken social contract that permits a person the right to assert and create his or her own overt or subconscious public privacy. And, despite the complicated game that manifests as a result of this silent agreement, most of us intuitively know that public/privacy is an illusion and a creation of man. There is no privacy.
Gent after 2.5 days
Gent is a beautiful city. I wander the city following the meandering course of the unplanned roads. Architecture stacked upon history stacked upon my projections. I keep walking. At night I sip loose beers and hunt for cheap fries. I am still invisible. I pass unnoticed. They can smell the California on me. The uneven cobblestones hurt my feet. I slowly walk over the stones in attempt not to crack my head open in a tumble. I know that I cannot sustain anymore blunt head trauma.The ladies of Gent hurry by me as I creep along, floating on their terribly fashionable high-healed shoes. Upon returning to my room and removing my shoes I feel as if I have been on a boat all day. Legs are unsteady, ready to adjust to an unbalanced surface that doesn't exist. I am beginning to relax.
Pee Stall for one, Gent, Belgium
Many years ago, to solve the problem of drunken men peeing all over the streets of Gent, the city installed enclosed concrete troughs for the men to expel their urine into. However, due to their enclosed nature, the pee rooms smelled awful. Solution: make them open aired, offer a delightful view of the city, and still give a young man the privacy he craves. The urinals are situated in a curved alcove so all a passerby can see is a man’s covered rear end as he relieves himself and takes in the historic sites. Sorry ladies, apparently there are no pee rooms for you...yet.
Pee Stall for two, Gent, Belgium
Many years ago, to solve the problem of drunken men peeing all over the streets of Gent, the city installed enclosed concrete troughs for the men to expel their urine into. However, due to their enclosed nature, the pee rooms smelled awful. Solution: make them open aired, offer a delightful view of the city, and still give a young man the privacy he craves. The urinals are situated in a curved alcove so all a passerby can see is a man’s covered rear end as he relieves himself and takes in the historic sites. Sorry ladies, apparently there are no pee rooms for you...yet.
Gent after 1.5 days
The waffles are light and not terribly heavy when first consumed. Later sitting in my stomach, they feel like a glazed San Franciscan buttermilk donut that was cooked in the same grease that the wantons and egg rolls were created in. This is how to find the best donut. As I wander, at times I follow the paths of the canals and rivers that sever the city. Other times the roads pull me in directions for no apparent reason, opening up to an impromptu roundabout that seems to always include some sort of church or at least something that resembles a church. Everything is clearly labeled in a language that looks and sounds as if English and German collided like two trains weighed down by atomic bombs with fire-cracker brake peddles. This ferocious power is pleasant and melodic to my ear. Everyone seems to speak at least 3 languages. English is second nature to most. I wander and project Boston onto the buildings. I remember meandering in late fall just before the snow was about to enter the city with Flato. No particular place to be and no money to do it. Drastically contrasting architecture dipped in histories of revolution and witch trials. Bricked Colonial next to 1970’s Minimalist Cement. Gent’s flower market with well-trodden divisional walkways of ancient and timely class struggles solved with an inner area for the bourgeois dancers and a separate one for the watching workers. High Renaissance beautifully bound to Gothic with Medieval duct tape and a drainpipe painted like a blue and white striped barber’s pole. I walk back to my room along the Leie (river or canal...not sure) bouncing a found tennis ball in my head from Cambridge all the way back to Alston with Nicky, wondering if the summer heat will let up. Tomorrow I will begin preparations for my project.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)