tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61321542714301280012024-03-17T00:15:28.140-07:00GruzemayerBlogitBbureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-50035029687145499902024-03-17T00:14:00.000-07:002024-03-17T00:14:49.078-07:00us-theatrics<p>
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">B.A.G in the American
Embassy (ex) The Hague</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">In the Movie Theater no
less, where the film 'Incredible Journey' DDV referred to in his AI
discourse might have been shown in those heady sixties sci-fi days...
Now we find ourselves facing the other way – confronting the
projection-booth with stares usually reserved for the screen –
detournement d'un lieu de cult cinematographique spectaculaire –
against the grain.</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Been watching Danny Devos
for quite a while now – since my arrival in these parts – and I
must admit he is one of the most constant methodical no-nonsense and
enigmatic artist I know – doing his thing without being in the
slightest buffeted by the storms whipped up by the cultured gentry –
in fact irritatingly so, not pandering to the ups and downs of
artificial hyperbole – not even participating in the rat-racing
ruminations of the marketeers and speculators – but using their
wares to reflect upon our condition...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3yGroatlWESwBpS1pLDUy6y50caKHZ9o-OwznAuSrR6wsqASxIDtJ43jRgq0SaqezdCxh4IevqL_VbZiK4ThuefkMQIshfn2t_hZ3igf0ozgvmc9q2eGRGGtK_cX0kiUj75pS-tyAbRKThdw88bEfKTk0ExlW-KDR4MU1af1Lu6UkPd0-qzMtVYv78bA/s709/USembassyCine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="709" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3yGroatlWESwBpS1pLDUy6y50caKHZ9o-OwznAuSrR6wsqASxIDtJ43jRgq0SaqezdCxh4IevqL_VbZiK4ThuefkMQIshfn2t_hZ3igf0ozgvmc9q2eGRGGtK_cX0kiUj75pS-tyAbRKThdw88bEfKTk0ExlW-KDR4MU1af1Lu6UkPd0-qzMtVYv78bA/w400-h300/USembassyCine.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As chance would have it
there was just a resurgence in attention to the Rote Armee Fraktion
as we heard about DDV's B.A.G. Projects – Bastard Art Gruppe –
with the arrest of a thrird-generational RAF member Daniela Klette in
her petite-bourgeois flat in Berlin, or at least what might seems so
apart from the weapons and explosives she still kept in her
cupboard... being anyway more of a bank-robber than hardcore lefty,
as quite a few of the RAF were, especially the later ones...
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">...all things (come to)
pass,</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">so too this embassy close
to the seat of Dutch government – once a mainstay transatlantic
ally and now chastising itself with an unworkable reactionary
coalition – even the famous Dutch libertarian attitude down the
drain with the rest of thinking Europe – even the Greens in Germany
howling for more weaponry... (I for one am of the anti-missle
generation of Pertra & der General – today's generation seems
to me to be more olive drab than juicy green... but yes)</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWE1IZwADhyphenhyphenw35Jr82TY0yTL7nht54hz39EMQtVsJKMLIyZEE_OtQQqk5r0NWe0UmjSKk_9ginIu2r7E_-jP9L-Q__LcCll6NjRlvjf1wrLK8qoio8OOME1wyJrXN32mt7A_hxyMJtYRa0__Ri3RcIEwm4F6OizTzAtZsRVUmWl-_3Xy2pFK5RydeEayM/s787/USembassyDDV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="591" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWE1IZwADhyphenhyphenw35Jr82TY0yTL7nht54hz39EMQtVsJKMLIyZEE_OtQQqk5r0NWe0UmjSKk_9ginIu2r7E_-jP9L-Q__LcCll6NjRlvjf1wrLK8qoio8OOME1wyJrXN32mt7A_hxyMJtYRa0__Ri3RcIEwm4F6OizTzAtZsRVUmWl-_3Xy2pFK5RydeEayM/s320/USembassyDDV.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So too DDV, after having
dug as far down as he could to find Gordon, filling up the hole with
shredded literature – I myself partook in some of the soil from
that hole transported all the way to Finland, and assisted in the
shredding of the rabbit-hare (“einem zerissenen hasen die
Performancekunst erklären”) – as well as the spray-painting of
an absent presence in Saint Nicholas town after art-pope Hoet refused
to let Danny play – ah those wonderfully repressive times!</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Now he has embraced AI
while others shirk fearfully as they did with his serial killers in
welded cold frames and the softly spoken Thai-boy Slim – for he
never gets stuck in one or another rut, but constantly and
conscientiously changes - as the weather with it's high and low
pressures, sun, sleet and snowballs. Now, after some initial projects
with canine portraits and similar dis-figuration, DDV has created a
series of automates announcements of his (or rather the system's)
work at various important international museum venues around the
globe...
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Not in fact having
anything to do with it at all- and so we too have nothing to do with
any of it as well as being ourselves ready-made fodder for the
insatiable hunger of marketing mentality's most preposterous dreams –
we can be whatever we don't want to be, and nothing will stop us from
becoming our worst own nightmare.</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">All that is left for us to
do is to spot the posters at a venue near you – yesseree-bob, take
a selfie with you very own DDV exhibition poster at your leisure,
become part of a world-wide webbed conspiracy to incorporate yourself
in to a n automatically generated reality far from anything that
smells of natural habitat, or god forbid, artzoo!</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUL7ecHHgHcaJqTo5U6NuNj_mI4UeOddo9ZBoW6KIGwrdvTuVJH1VEGrZOiVSMUMGNRF-Pxyr1INyeLJty5qeyj0KhA_Lac8BpvSJ7UmJYj6Ft1T88kbyfBVTXcars6nqj8Yf6V10_E-WIpOyJSR6dhYF0vjWVUmT0tMWdjltuRD27J5ARRss6c2KuYYc/s682/USembasWatCool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUL7ecHHgHcaJqTo5U6NuNj_mI4UeOddo9ZBoW6KIGwrdvTuVJH1VEGrZOiVSMUMGNRF-Pxyr1INyeLJty5qeyj0KhA_Lac8BpvSJ7UmJYj6Ft1T88kbyfBVTXcars6nqj8Yf6V10_E-WIpOyJSR6dhYF0vjWVUmT0tMWdjltuRD27J5ARRss6c2KuYYc/s320/USembasWatCool.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><i>Watercooler abandoned by US personel in the former embassy... </i><br /> <br /><p></p>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-69897857300923708272024-01-15T07:23:00.000-08:002024-01-15T07:23:19.412-08:00slight surprise<p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Quelle belle Surprise</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">A nice surprise for the
beginning of the Belgian tenure of the European Commission was the
inauguration of an occasional artwork by Ann Veronica Janssens and
Michel François... by now these friends are on the cusp of the
Belgian artistic landscape and to my mind merited. Long ago as young
and enthusiast beginners we had great times trying out various
possibilities... Ann Veronica had been working together with Monica
Droste who introduced me at the time I was a green twig just
arrived... That is how a wonderful exhibition in the 'inexistent'
gallery space came about... what is it, some 36 years ago...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-abTEGv0FNNFwWd-K4REbWl23ZLkj1EcakY5XeeMLCHGQ60nvnENZS7UZT2s7Q3cnXDRPnTy1szEgVBIViV39wHhcNrYeR5WebxzPfZgF_XH-QenFMZyRacidRQmQZHutghUt2xqdS2PYT366Cf5JknXlmVZCa12-ACfESQ4jnW_CaUwWjmg9CNbVQU/s900/EuroEsplaCops3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="900" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-abTEGv0FNNFwWd-K4REbWl23ZLkj1EcakY5XeeMLCHGQ60nvnENZS7UZT2s7Q3cnXDRPnTy1szEgVBIViV39wHhcNrYeR5WebxzPfZgF_XH-QenFMZyRacidRQmQZHutghUt2xqdS2PYT366Cf5JknXlmVZCa12-ACfESQ4jnW_CaUwWjmg9CNbVQU/w400-h228/EuroEsplaCops3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Much to my surprise this
work, a rare collaboration between the two artists who had formed a
couple, then separated, then rekindled the original flame – many
years perusing separate careers but often within sight of each
other... here too the double-duo aspect being apparent. But the main
surprise was the use of cement (or argex) building bricks, a platform
of two tiers loosely arranged, just like the exhibition in 1988... so
very recognizable or even as a déjà-vu sort of experience when
coming out of the underground train station Gare de Luxembourg...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz2F4z1onlFCfXbvf9FscmQdEuMWAf61ZA3svH-xMS2dI9Mf9JFwVNhZ725KG4edCEj1ZeijH55O3_5fUd_v7L_bPuVJPTbFfK5kLnSQdt99AY1IPOIJf1RFyPBKd2BKX7OH91ypCtabFu8faC2d3ceah3X41XYv17LlK3p7xRunakQ11S_5aJFFp2qKM/s1600/EuroHoleCops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz2F4z1onlFCfXbvf9FscmQdEuMWAf61ZA3svH-xMS2dI9Mf9JFwVNhZ725KG4edCEj1ZeijH55O3_5fUd_v7L_bPuVJPTbFfK5kLnSQdt99AY1IPOIJf1RFyPBKd2BKX7OH91ypCtabFu8faC2d3ceah3X41XYv17LlK3p7xRunakQ11S_5aJFFp2qKM/s320/EuroHoleCops.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The 'Esplanade
Solidarnosc' (even solidarity has become but a place-name) used to be
the embankment on which the rails ran to and from the Luxembourg
station, a green embankment as I remember, having seen it from the
old warehouse that once towered above – now Euro-offices – and
everything gentrified... The warehouse was on the Rue Godecharle, a
large building overlooking the whole Quartier Leopold... there on the
3<sup>rd</sup> of fourth floor Ann-Veronica, Monica Droste, Michel
François and others shared a studio floor... early to mid eighties I
think, since I only saw it after the fact, there to collect remnants
of a magician's caravan with Michel Galasso, who had the job of
clearing up there.</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYWjWlpQbJfM3XNy3TzrXb41CeKlcLcQl66DL7LeI-h7IbQwpxUt0aG7Kz4OYu3_Q1Ke5kmlY_51wQiSOjKPMNCoC5WVtXKnu9mgVVZMAfA9KgTXXBwc3M_lYWKgFbODlyW5v0JCcU9zhNaLUC__an-Q8PbTrviSVz1aV_6w6I2ONWYt12viLuHywLOo/s479/Godecharle1910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="479" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYWjWlpQbJfM3XNy3TzrXb41CeKlcLcQl66DL7LeI-h7IbQwpxUt0aG7Kz4OYu3_Q1Ke5kmlY_51wQiSOjKPMNCoC5WVtXKnu9mgVVZMAfA9KgTXXBwc3M_lYWKgFbODlyW5v0JCcU9zhNaLUC__an-Q8PbTrviSVz1aV_6w6I2ONWYt12viLuHywLOo/s320/Godecharle1910.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(online now and then map (interactive)</span></i><br /> <p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The story of the magician
itself also quite something, Michel; Monica and Guy Rombouts and
myself made various trips to save what we could – originally from
the German magic-circus-caravan Kalanag, it had come into the hands
of a Belgian Magician who went bust... it had been sitting there
since the sixties or so, and we gleaned quite a few transport-crates
and trinkets which over the years were used in different artistic
manifestations... a Pandora's box of sorts... </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQqYXxyh5olWoSxhrXi9SG0-3qU1EqIieuXmpD2LBzI6b-Qb5HC5sd7sB-h2cbhXIy3X34a2jqyT-AUp7NwSY1zh6uPaqqFr_ZRn78eWMSRlVis9r9CBVJWR0lWHHLfi5oYY45t8HonSlozexvOYYwCdPhbGQhj1rMbmrpO0bbohoCwRlZUmgM4Vru-c/s787/Kalaggkiste85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="787" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQqYXxyh5olWoSxhrXi9SG0-3qU1EqIieuXmpD2LBzI6b-Qb5HC5sd7sB-h2cbhXIy3X34a2jqyT-AUp7NwSY1zh6uPaqqFr_ZRn78eWMSRlVis9r9CBVJWR0lWHHLfi5oYY45t8HonSlozexvOYYwCdPhbGQhj1rMbmrpO0bbohoCwRlZUmgM4Vru-c/s320/Kalaggkiste85.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(kalanag kist nr. 85 )</span></i></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The work itself was, as
mentioned, a platform of two tiers of cement bricks, a sort of
podium, stage or plinth, with a narrow trench or interval between the
next section which had mounted on it a fence, barrier or screen in
the same proportions as the heavy stones, with in it's middle a
breach: a breakthrough, a hole as it were, seemingly blown as if by
force, a gust or breath, or a stone perhaps, thrown as in <i>'soixcent
huit'</i> – a <i>pavée</i> through the showcase of the established
order... a serious play between the hefty stones and the filigree
latticework, as if a robust cloud had passed... a scene, a stage, the
protagonists unknown, but could easily be me, be you...
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">On the first level and in
the euro-context we have here one has to think of all the border
fences going up around us... the lightness of the construction
reminds us of hastily constructed border fences in say Poland (we are
on the solidarnosc-esplanade are we not?) or Lithuania, the only
thing that's missing is the razor-wire... the breakthrough could be
any number of migrants, be they war refugees or economic, politically
persecuted or in search of that elusive happiness... or a mental
escape from the constraints of regulation, regularity,
repetitiveness, as reflected by the office windows all around us. A
break-out through the barrier of stasis, of inaction, disinterest...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8UA8fnasStGIWBBOzuLPKntdERSmQXtRYmU7IYLKIldaRU5g8rBX4jVG1dAHWW9ZZuNcYYrOWgci0tPGGX1q9ucbBpaIJcJRBgwZFnLW-16FieyWHWAMI1qdVSz9knn2qi3B2-Y9Cr7LcrC-UmTHchcRxUJtrDN6957Z4B6bqwEZxRLCMX9t2dRCMSA/s984/EuroEsplanade2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="984" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8UA8fnasStGIWBBOzuLPKntdERSmQXtRYmU7IYLKIldaRU5g8rBX4jVG1dAHWW9ZZuNcYYrOWgci0tPGGX1q9ucbBpaIJcJRBgwZFnLW-16FieyWHWAMI1qdVSz9knn2qi3B2-Y9Cr7LcrC-UmTHchcRxUJtrDN6957Z4B6bqwEZxRLCMX9t2dRCMSA/s320/EuroEsplanade2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">One thing I am wondering
is if it will remain as it is, or be 'used' as it were... in another
part of town it would not take long before the whole construction
would be used to demolish the gleaming façades around... but I guess
they have taken their precautions and / or added another detachment
of security people to keep an eye on the thing... it is to my mind
provocative enough, especially when seeing the sketch, using a
seating block opposite as proverbial, mental, brick (in/out of the
wall).</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We will have to go back to
look and see – anyway I was planning to go th the wonderful Wiertz
Museum while we were there, but got sidelined looking for the right
spot (the esplanade being a long curves ex-emplacement – we
wandered a bit lost in the Euro-quarter before finding the right
place, and so didn't have the time.. and while there also have a look
at the Rue Godecharle – the few buildings left over from 'our time'
slated for demolition too, and also the nearby Musée Camille
Lemmonier, which I had not visited since those times 36 odd years
ago...</p>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-40963995925053628592023-11-30T05:47:00.000-08:002023-11-30T05:47:00.504-08:00triangulation second part<p style="text-align: left;"> <br /><br /> <br />But sitting here waiting for the train to depart reminds me that I forgot to make more of an issue of the image Bendy Glue sent as participation in the straatman outing, of a scene just outside his door in southern France, off the cuff and out of the box... As well as another image he sent for the recap, with a red, pink or blue bed and a wonderful text by Jean Giono(*) which I attempted to type after missing it in my dossier ( didn't copy it properly. .. Had the image but not the text, which was essential to consider the traveling bit.. The being en route entre ici et lá bas... ( ici n'est pas la bas) héé labas!
(*) here it is:<br /><br /><i><br /> C'est un long apprentissage, comme tout, car " Dans la solitude où nous allons être, il faut des vices (il ne faut pas en promettre), des petits vices pour qu'on ne soit pas emportés par des gros. C'est toute la question. Tant qu'on marche, l'esprit s'occupe; on va d'un endroit à l'autre; le monde vous divertit, mais quand on est sur place, il faut se faire chaque jour des horizons neufs, et soit même : voilà le danger. Tant que tu marches, tu as un nord, un sud, l'est, l'ouest mais si tu es seul et planté (c'est notre cas) il n'y a plus de loi, on part en bombe." (Jean Giono, L'iris de Suze). Mais, comme tout, ça pousse, ça pousse... <br /></i><br /><br /> Which also reminds me that I wanted to do more with the 'unnoticed art' series, -consider here the simultaneous gig in Rotterdam ad. Chicago... Relating to simultaneous happenings in Bxl, Peruwelz and Maubeuge? (never realised) and on the other hand the "radicale 1924" which also sort of faded away... Though I did find out that it is not clear whether the walk was in fact 1924 or only the surrealist manifesto, hence, the walk is spot-on for this year in preparation of a major new shift in cultural settings, say from Dadada to surrealism at the time. (Control session beep beep) </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AG3Yf0Fl9zFSL5NC7lEVrzqXBXmef-txoQtX-6y4JprKjwWNnHPeCqkbSM0LdgP6Zi-Qu_ELS7TLzW6PzqF3_KpWWs7AwIF6jXOwciFhaOfpAN9HGzFZv9E1l590sex6iWM3Yvtr3GmfY-FUyRtXwFuxOSw8ORK1IkOJxXIT82L1yR624Dae6dNwTsU/s1280/Photo13128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AG3Yf0Fl9zFSL5NC7lEVrzqXBXmef-txoQtX-6y4JprKjwWNnHPeCqkbSM0LdgP6Zi-Qu_ELS7TLzW6PzqF3_KpWWs7AwIF6jXOwciFhaOfpAN9HGzFZv9E1l590sex6iWM3Yvtr3GmfY-FUyRtXwFuxOSw8ORK1IkOJxXIT82L1yR624Dae6dNwTsU/s320/Photo13128.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;"> So
Whence where we? </p><p style="text-align: left;">Here in Gent lots and lots of people boarding, and I thought it would be quiet because Wednesday and not quite late enough for rush hour... But nowadays every hour is rush hour... Seems to be a school trip. Bandy bawdy youth doing FU signs and being obnoxious. (de jeugd van tegenwoordig, la jeunesse de aujourd'hui) ...get a move on. Not really very tolerant anymore of what essentially would have been my youth too... How does that figure? Not enough time left? Is that the reason for being less involved with inconsequential things, nonsense, wasting time, easy goings on? Or just bored after all these years of the same inconsequential nonsense? Time for a new leaf? Time for change? For the better hopefully, though experience teaches us that things have a tendency to slide and get worse... Or is that just an impression? </p><p style="text-align: left;"> Hustinex has disappeared! Why? how come? where to? How can i find out more without a password... Never had one i don"t think... No i don"t think! Think hard! The loss of an identity, does it matter? Is it essential to rekindle the same or a different identity, a related one? Does it have to stay in the family? Can it be dormant for years and then resurface without problems? What problems?
Ha, identity swing, paradigm shift, arrest of affect, effect and effigy... Who will we burn today? Mourning the loss of someone who never existed, or never actually came to life at all, waiting in the wings to be animated, activated, inserted into life as it were, much like the virtual beings they pretend to have imbued with human traits... Already there are those that consider their avatar as important as themselves, and don't really know who themselves might be... Here a care in point... I had begun to add pictures I had made years ago to the portfolio of Hustinex just to give him a presence... Did they then become his? Are they his and no longer part of my own oeuvre? To be investigated...
Zufall oder nicht?</p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"> Perhaps look up some more about "talk to otiose" and the surreal dérive, lost in space and the text sent by Bendy... As well as reference to Marc Rossignols 11 corner ( have Jérôme and Julien as presenters fifty fifty... Non?
<br /></p><pre class="western" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">Picture of Rossignols corner invitation on the 11<sup>th</sup></span></span></span> </pre><pre class="western" lang="en-US"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUQutSee6l0-ZeHYK5hpQt-PhOVVqAdt_UmGB8ysk6s6629nebQ_McxxWIG-3AHBP0RAH74qGXJv89ZNhvrqhIPz9hyphenhyphen4_rdbNoNM2t_qWVdlzGFcax6pc3DQ9gJJ8BUaa9JIrb0jfqv_55OrdGzhNcNqYpDJXLDtRAaaMl6V9rwOtSV64Im7eRmUrTbE/s689/ArchBukMembMR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="669" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUQutSee6l0-ZeHYK5hpQt-PhOVVqAdt_UmGB8ysk6s6629nebQ_McxxWIG-3AHBP0RAH74qGXJv89ZNhvrqhIPz9hyphenhyphen4_rdbNoNM2t_qWVdlzGFcax6pc3DQ9gJJ8BUaa9JIrb0jfqv_55OrdGzhNcNqYpDJXLDtRAaaMl6V9rwOtSV64Im7eRmUrTbE/s320/ArchBukMembMR.jpg" width="311" /></a></div><br /> </pre>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-6874772111126100122023-11-17T01:23:00.000-08:002024-01-02T05:26:23.298-08:00travel (triangulation?)<p style="text-align: left;">
</p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Travels with René</b></span></span> </p><p style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">Not many options when dealing with an invalid cat... Usual cat-sit unavailable, family with little time.. Not enough to take care of the poor invalid cat which is faring well but is not allowed to jump and climb trees... Which means someone has to be around all the time.. The other two can fare well and fend for themselves, as long as there is enough food and water, and some indication that they have not been a endowed... An occasional visit would suffice for the three days we were to be gone, but for René this was not an option... Nor was animal hotel, since it's too much stress and reminds him of hospital..... None of that thank you. So road trip is more or less the only option, to come along with is, even if uncomfortable and also somewhat stressful. </span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">Then again,</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">He spent a week out among the hooligans drug dealers and bombers roaming the neighborhood where we live, and survives multiple operations and hospital visits afterwards... He could surly manage to see the benefits of a road trip with us... And he did. Though slightly apprehensive at the beginning and not pleased with the arrangement of a bench in the back of the car, he stopped complaining when brought up front in a carry-all with three sides latticework window... And was always fond of sitting on a lap... He soon became used to this arrangement...</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">(not quite Bébèrt)</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqq7FUgyJMT7EaFc5EWweqJWD1m7i9rVqbj-Hz0WkjdaI_O0NsUy7xChYEDnX0mE6snKR4B2PJhpqhk0sml4UwwtkF4lEg1SK3JPPKwv7yFIb2m8IpkvsIT2qn5K89-b5223ajjCz18PhtddHUTify3cddUpoFSut7atR3w0fwaUIvP0k-5BN0bLT9WoA/s787/Grabdetail2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="591" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqq7FUgyJMT7EaFc5EWweqJWD1m7i9rVqbj-Hz0WkjdaI_O0NsUy7xChYEDnX0mE6snKR4B2PJhpqhk0sml4UwwtkF4lEg1SK3JPPKwv7yFIb2m8IpkvsIT2qn5K89-b5223ajjCz18PhtddHUTify3cddUpoFSut7atR3w0fwaUIvP0k-5BN0bLT9WoA/s320/Grabdetail2.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">First stop was the cemetery at Bad Godesberg...</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> Apprehensive and a bit stressed at the beginning, partly because there were dogs around, barking at each other... Partly because there was a small wood which he would much have preferred to the open spaces.. But was not allowed, since we had some grave-refurbishing to do while we munched on a snack by way of break, lunch or whatever... He did not see the squirrel while we made our way back to the car, too preoccupied with passers by and surroundings in general (there was a big mock-up of an electromagnetic train towering above the little cat's holdall, looking ominous.</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">We decided to keep him in his travel-pouch on L's lap, that way he could enjoy some of the scenery and the comfort of her lap... He slept most of the way. In Neustadt an dar Weinstrasse we put him back in his bench while we went for a coffee, and left him there for the ride up the valley to the cloister of St. Mary. This is no longer run by the old nuns but has been taken over by a sort of (virtual?) polish priest and consorts... Not really the same any more... But we did enjoy a walk in the woods, with René leading us astray between the trees... He seemed to enjoy it... After initial trepidation about the big dark wood, he soon realized it was safe and anyway he had two bipedal guardians to take care of his safety.</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">We arrived somewhat late and only did some short walks between the rain, and attempted to have him reside in our bathroom at the lodging... But he was not keen and scratched at the door while wiling away... So back to the car where he had his nest and food and was accustomed to by now... Where he could listen to the rain and doze away... During the festivities we didn't have much time save for a few short walks, and so the second night was again in the car... The las morning though was dry and sunny, and we began with a walk at the cemetery, somewhat lost between the graves, but seemingly glad to be out and about.</span></span></span> </p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihetqrBqFfOz4Vl7xFj9gg7I5WaaHetpxbPUjO74jWjHAm-DCY2Rehkh2vmpNJd4JeThw2tT6w_itmNGgeGiAI19Y4c7wf3kZ-e0q-CfUWRy-PnsdUhnmNZ49r8NOSPIgQldjzShzba2nrfpEg_OA1MOULiO4UyUb22PPcA83pxXMPJPBsEz0OZ2pm-70/s512/TryAngul22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihetqrBqFfOz4Vl7xFj9gg7I5WaaHetpxbPUjO74jWjHAm-DCY2Rehkh2vmpNJd4JeThw2tT6w_itmNGgeGiAI19Y4c7wf3kZ-e0q-CfUWRy-PnsdUhnmNZ49r8NOSPIgQldjzShzba2nrfpEg_OA1MOULiO4UyUb22PPcA83pxXMPJPBsEz0OZ2pm-70/s320/TryAngul22.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">Next the return journey, and again less time for walks, since we were doing the whole distance in one go... The parking lot in the village of Dahn I had envisioned as major pit-stop has been cemented over, so that plan had to be shelved... There were too many motorcycles about with their noisy exhaust, so René was not in the mood either... So on towards Luxembourg, where again construction and madding crowds made a simple walk into a nerve-racking enterprise.. Didn't want him ti slip his halter and bolt across the highway..</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">But alls well that ends well...</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">In how far the triangulation drive can count as a trip in the sense of the map-room is something I have to think about - it is also not quite sure if one can construe it as a triangulation drive, since we were pretty well following our regular route.. Slightly different along the Rhine, but more or less the same from Karlsruhe... Variations at the beginning and the end (having gone first to Bonn, then followed the river down before crossing over to the Palatine forest... And around Munich heading in by way of the old road and transversing town rather that attempting the circumnavigation, which was stuck chock-a-block (14km) and then there was the added deviation at Holzkirchen, which, had I known about it, could have been avoided by going via Bad Tölz...(remembering when airborne contingents (10<sup>th</sup> SFG bat1) had a heliport (Baker AAF) there in the 70s) As it was, we returned via that route...)</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">Triangulation drives were a series I had started back when I returned from Paris and when we combined different stations to create a encompassing round trip.. Including often parts of the map we had not yet visited, areas not yet known.. Often between France and Germany... But since 2015 I no longer used the term, considering perhaps that the series was finished... And this trip might be added as a footnote but is not really part of the series... I find myself doing a lot of retrospective references rather than new projects anyway.. Sign of the times I guess..</span></span></span> </p><p style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">So, what significance? Getting used to travel with an invalid cat as preparation for one's own creaking frame no longer able to withstand the rigours of extended travel? Tiredness , fatigue and disorientation, stress and weakness influencing the cadence of interchanges... Thinking of our attempt to train-hop our way across Germany, which went terribly wrong and ended up crammed into a taxi with strangers in the middle of the night... A reminder that the good times were definitely over.. That traveling for pleasure was a thing of the past.</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">So perhaps it is a footnote and end to the series, not being worth it anymore... Or having to consider a completely different approach. (written on leaving Ostend, the geriatric Miami of the Belgian coast. ) ... In the museum I saw a frontispiece for a travelogue by Ana Boch, and thought that's what I need for my <i>Borinageuse</i> report...</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">Lithographic style from the turn of the last century.. Reminding me that I too did enjoy applying that style to my work back in school... Lithographic pencils being my favorite.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">(map) not territory (rott/ach Ring / ler)<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU25lEbyFZK_gFXQvSMJxE6vwgDtpUS8tHXjIpXwHXvKULuJPYjHMQPFAYzhckgwreMaa95ewSRsw9_XCfQYtQmrQAE_XZRNxLVxFTfHdqjU4nYj6ktqvD8bKzMOkZXtGXvnpXdj_C-wCdpWEw2O-Nx57DFefsfk6IWIVYqpazlG84TXsTTWSuenwofEY/s591/RottRing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="591" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU25lEbyFZK_gFXQvSMJxE6vwgDtpUS8tHXjIpXwHXvKULuJPYjHMQPFAYzhckgwreMaa95ewSRsw9_XCfQYtQmrQAE_XZRNxLVxFTfHdqjU4nYj6ktqvD8bKzMOkZXtGXvnpXdj_C-wCdpWEw2O-Nx57DFefsfk6IWIVYqpazlG84TXsTTWSuenwofEY/s320/RottRing.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"><br /> </span></span></span>
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bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-48243714388427719602023-08-29T08:07:00.109-07:002023-09-03T12:43:27.302-07:00Excursion grand Hornu Straat(wo)man symposium<p> It turned out to be a fine
day for a pick-nick. Some cloud cover to accompany us on the trip,
which went smoothly. We were 26, just the group for an alphabet –
and so a homage to the AZART and absentee Guy Rombouts, as well as
being practically half the bus – 52 seater half full half empty-
perfect! Angel had brought with him the soundtrack of his
Straatman-opera we performed in Amsterdam (and Bxl) in 2002, but alas
there were technical difficulties to get it on the speakers...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyfvLRRTt9umLkqoSFg49L0hrcdO6IdUEI0uCSs_V69UAnJrn08wyNqzMWWqphMrUAbdkvV865C-1rrG_frL-X1UDlv1YINbtYiMbOKSlJtSCfgUeOH70lyjviD_iWOC4gpiIQCShr2t9kWPdPGZtouesZ68MeQFf0OU4s8cvGNcLab-gF-wSSLOJaHo/s819/straatmboulAdamS.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="819" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyfvLRRTt9umLkqoSFg49L0hrcdO6IdUEI0uCSs_V69UAnJrn08wyNqzMWWqphMrUAbdkvV865C-1rrG_frL-X1UDlv1YINbtYiMbOKSlJtSCfgUeOH70lyjviD_iWOC4gpiIQCShr2t9kWPdPGZtouesZ68MeQFf0OU4s8cvGNcLab-gF-wSSLOJaHo/s320/straatmboulAdamS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
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</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> </i></span></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(view
of Straatman during the Opera preparations at the W139 in Amsterdam
2002...)</i></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">... which was a pity...
but replaced with some sight-seeing information and a first reading
of a Spinoza proposition, one proposed by Domino Thirion concerning<i>
'Laetitia directé mala non est. Tristitia autem contrà directè est
mala'</i> and with that reminded us of absentee Laetitia Yalon who
would not have missed this trip for the world. Yes we were here to be
happy, glad ...<i>alegria!</i> The idea that there might be too much
glee as foreign to us as it was to Baruch... Aided by a sip of
<i>'Pineau de Charentes'</i> that was brought on board to commemorate
a similar bus-trip (though a lot smaller) proposed by Jef Lambrecht
31 years earlier 'on the 22<sup>nd</sup> for his 44<sup>th</sup>' to
the first <i>'intercontinentaal entrepot'</i> at Kassel during
documenta IX to lay the foundations of a new unitary <i>'Belgian
People's Party' (Belgische Volkspartei, Belgische Volkspartij, Parti
Populaire Belge)</i> under the flag of 'Black, Brown and Beige'...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RUQdGPqJzRKu9jRsIapSrY25ifyCnVAPBI5XGye-knCBvyB2GWbHmjNBmJnBC3DL4viOMWDSL05s1VDMHEo_uScarqRpR9foiDiVI7MvGY5ZiTPAF8KZ42iETofnsJGEzooAf7IbeKA2orFITvE2yA0dBtOt39HGRw5MFLgeBX2_7qDjmNZQLew1uNY/s830/KleinLKassel4422.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="830" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RUQdGPqJzRKu9jRsIapSrY25ifyCnVAPBI5XGye-knCBvyB2GWbHmjNBmJnBC3DL4viOMWDSL05s1VDMHEo_uScarqRpR9foiDiVI7MvGY5ZiTPAF8KZ42iETofnsJGEzooAf7IbeKA2orFITvE2yA0dBtOt39HGRw5MFLgeBX2_7qDjmNZQLew1uNY/s320/KleinLKassel4422.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<p></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(invite
for the kleine Löwenkonferenz 22 for 44, Kassel 1992)</i></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Thus reminding us all that
this was in fact not a fifty-fifty but a non-fifty-fifty trip, an
archival exercise at best, or <u>not</u> (to quote A.W., another
absentee enthusiast)... yet another absentee or excused member Bendy
Glue could not make the long trip from southern France but sent an
image to be used as a surrogate landscape while traveling under
cover... (which we did surreptitiously) Once we had entered the
region of the <i>Borinage</i> (the exact borders of which are subject
to an extensive investigation currently under way at the map-room of
the Buktapaktop) we were reminded to prepare for the upcoming
disembarkation: a small test to ready ourselves for arrival...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtyAvye128yLnDONLvPanXC85YJxe3HSQ5iTQ4z6Oj_P0YbjRx68Tj3gCpvAlsa85oLcrkWeNUblaMRJk7l6UwiaBaXj12QXhT5Uc6n4Cqu5nEJsBGZoKCnlGrnZzanfDo19u2I1iFfC-FC1oMfGn9OxKfKAeUwD405Bd3ZkV47FNAQcQJ9f4dB9D4Ko/s787/BusRadelescu2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="787" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtyAvye128yLnDONLvPanXC85YJxe3HSQ5iTQ4z6Oj_P0YbjRx68Tj3gCpvAlsa85oLcrkWeNUblaMRJk7l6UwiaBaXj12QXhT5Uc6n4Cqu5nEJsBGZoKCnlGrnZzanfDo19u2I1iFfC-FC1oMfGn9OxKfKAeUwD405Bd3ZkV47FNAQcQJ9f4dB9D4Ko/s320/BusRadelescu2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheP_8WG6RtTmDFmdU4zxOubkicmGO39qgHPi_XsN6J0oWicTcvjlNYLtCcCb5mu3bgyrN0ocBfHksG4uV5ctzsb-H1DzN1AljEvH-hWhRYtFzkmK74iDeaThKG3ZCGH4T7o-A-CLBLd3nCvMcAolsMUH7gmA3ZgPDHK11ep8NauDjj27acwCvCqG8bEYY/s787/owMottRadelescu.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="787" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheP_8WG6RtTmDFmdU4zxOubkicmGO39qgHPi_XsN6J0oWicTcvjlNYLtCcCb5mu3bgyrN0ocBfHksG4uV5ctzsb-H1DzN1AljEvH-hWhRYtFzkmK74iDeaThKG3ZCGH4T7o-A-CLBLd3nCvMcAolsMUH7gmA3ZgPDHK11ep8NauDjj27acwCvCqG8bEYY/w224-h224/owMottRadelescu.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(during
the test the only member not under cover was our main straatman
himself – here caught on camera by Claudia Radulescu, who also shot
this stowaway cowboy (Grégoire Motte) who with his son Edgar was one
of the last-minute participants)</i></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> We had failed to secure
safe passage for everyone and anyone with the museum administration,
so decided to issue <i>'Laissez Passers'</i> to all on board, with
the notion that we would clear the accounts afterwards rather than
niggle at the counter in the entrance-hall... if this should fail in
any way, we were quite prepared to re-shape the whole operation into
a syndicalist intervention and picket the institution, which might
have also been an interesting thing to do... but as it was, clear
sailing, with each of the anonymously shrouded straat(wo)men
receiving their stickers without any hiccups at all...and so we
streamed seamlessly towards the large courtyard, drawn in by the
statue of the founder De Gorge with his missing left arm...</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">(more on that later...)</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QdzZxMA8LqAfX1SYUPKNESz9StNZv-z-YkvoCZSAuIkMCvBu02mRijRfPeMjgsmBDTm6Ol9lb0x84gSOqw3PQxxexbIF-cyq2VQYbNGEqNCahRL6yQBel76DuTTQd3Wr5zfYdy3QS7d7bczcdZO-EHQJQ82kFUmCU3gWleYovgkI4YCHMuiy7SH2snA/s787/arriveradelescu.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="787" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QdzZxMA8LqAfX1SYUPKNESz9StNZv-z-YkvoCZSAuIkMCvBu02mRijRfPeMjgsmBDTm6Ol9lb0x84gSOqw3PQxxexbIF-cyq2VQYbNGEqNCahRL6yQBel76DuTTQd3Wr5zfYdy3QS7d7bczcdZO-EHQJQ82kFUmCU3gWleYovgkI4YCHMuiy7SH2snA/s320/arriveradelescu.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(arrival photo C Radulescu)</span></i><br />
<p></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And broke out the
pick-nick baskets... each and everyone sharing tidbits, while more
towards the arches a table was set up with some drink and salad
offered by the museum and where we could refresh ourselves while
considering some of the proposals in Spinoza's 3<sup>rd</sup> and 4<sup>th</sup>
section... considering that as part of the 'substance' we can use a
self-knowledge akin to intuition to grasp the concepts at hand...
self-knowledge of the modes – 'in which the substance expresses
itself in certain and particular ways...' (using convergent,
divergent and lateral thinking)...</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We did however run into a
snag with some concepts concerning human bondage, or the powers of
affects... mainly due to translation: I had with me a Latin-Dutch
version, while most of our group was francophone...
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">But first we gathered for
a visit to 'in the instant' exhibition... beginning with the wondrous
sculpture created by children with visual impairments... a plan-view
of the museum turned into a hut, painted brightly with very
discernible figurations... a perfect intro along a wall of early
portraits into a light-emitting painting video of a visually impaired
girl interacting with Abramovich... we donned our sheets and let the
goings-on impress upon our selves as we were also impaired as it
were, to understand more fully. </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJBbwgf2rEYP_PCb4nuAs0OfQYVSt4gIZqx0jqiM8rCRPGaXE6w40Y4XRwYNrPh9RusujajQg-w0YZwLElJ6JZDu9ab-h7y8OV3DFR78YL9oe1ZeHB2r4DPmMZhsa0nHjJtnQhIBB6WfsKnCmbiGZyIjc4JIqKCGEIWE5kfrFnaflnLFOVkNAFxR0a7A/s787/ThrreMrxRadelescu.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="787" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJBbwgf2rEYP_PCb4nuAs0OfQYVSt4gIZqx0jqiM8rCRPGaXE6w40Y4XRwYNrPh9RusujajQg-w0YZwLElJ6JZDu9ab-h7y8OV3DFR78YL9oe1ZeHB2r4DPmMZhsa0nHjJtnQhIBB6WfsKnCmbiGZyIjc4JIqKCGEIWE5kfrFnaflnLFOVkNAFxR0a7A/s320/ThrreMrxRadelescu.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<p></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(
Tolmacheff, Mott and Montalvo coulnd't resist turning this solemn
moment into a Marxist scene.. photo C Radulescu.)</i></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The next image was an
actual projection in which we the works of art could actually partake
and participate in the projection of the painter painting the town of
Castellón back in 2009 – and after being part of this
(retro)projection (for the viewer under wraps – from the outside as
regular projection) and emerging into the light (of the projector) it
was the <i>Maestro Pintor</i> himself who was stigmatized by the
museum's designer balustrade... Ouch!</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixz7grjq8L8T-NkRKYTU9pnj1VPnFJpTMQjgmAlH0K_UVgEio9497cAQlhlEQu4Z_hs9NsNcctfMl3zbdWSvSjjkOL8ODUvjNAfjKJPU4mCg2zeftCOHlA6RO8zb727Z1ET-u5ciedolGgiCw9z3IinNq3PT569K5DHVOOqiTWxQgZ52my4gaENIUhYwo/s900/HornuTrapzaaligS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="787" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixz7grjq8L8T-NkRKYTU9pnj1VPnFJpTMQjgmAlH0K_UVgEio9497cAQlhlEQu4Z_hs9NsNcctfMl3zbdWSvSjjkOL8ODUvjNAfjKJPU4mCg2zeftCOHlA6RO8zb727Z1ET-u5ciedolGgiCw9z3IinNq3PT569K5DHVOOqiTWxQgZ52my4gaENIUhYwo/w350-h400/HornuTrapzaaligS.jpg" width="350" /></a></div><br />
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(here
Maestro Pintor explains his origins after being stigmatized – soon
blood would flow from his wound – flanked by Maria with the flaming
red hair (Degrève) and a bearded Moïsé Obst, long time acolyte, as
well as Nep Nö, the state-street woman from Budapest - foto Toni G.)</i></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Climbing the long flight
of stairs to the great hall of traces, where Straatman had gestured
his way out of blackened canvasses to the sound of classical modern
music (voice, violin) at Vervoort along the Albert Canal near Antwerp
in (2019?) - it was difficult to refrain from participating and
cleaning all the rest of the sooty black from the canvasses, which
would have created quite a situation!... from there to the old movies
– the 8mm-strips we know from the eighties – in fact, once the
maestro pintor projected his strips on strips under a white shroud –
a sort of private interior straatman viewing at inexistent... 1989 I
think... here though were many an expired friend and fifty-fifty
aficionado to be seen in better times...</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zkA1MlavNP-3d6thF2g-AiW64jLAuwTbJoZZUX0cl6ROtqcHZjcoX8SdVmucNAxvTQSCFqVYShieozdkE_wsRNkKZ5SDJogxN9nxySmDO3tFf2qmpDOf2HCu6DDEbYMY8bU5ZZaZMNFZFRTDcTWyvVjIBragoDT-Ty6DJZZ7U-Z0EOUphGlg0iLDSX8/s787/AngelProjeInexS.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="787" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zkA1MlavNP-3d6thF2g-AiW64jLAuwTbJoZZUX0cl6ROtqcHZjcoX8SdVmucNAxvTQSCFqVYShieozdkE_wsRNkKZ5SDJogxN9nxySmDO3tFf2qmpDOf2HCu6DDEbYMY8bU5ZZaZMNFZFRTDcTWyvVjIBragoDT-Ty6DJZZ7U-Z0EOUphGlg0iLDSX8/s320/AngelProjeInexS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(straatman
projection inexistent 1989)</i></span></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> </i></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(amalgamated
super-8 strips looped into an ongoing movie nostalgia)</i></span></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> </i></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGZN9dnqqamIErq7rhpgOAv36XeB9HbJSOr6VKgfamtoV9Qlw_Hz9Pu6rpLzakqJkOrWEhHputtqD81N3ga694JfXwBsM16d9U6jbxja2zG9L8PS9fXiRO3_veTMOZhN0C6e8E-KJpXulRkDG8_S1G1nnAiI3BOiZxM48ubEExbtFcuVlmcyLPjyIlXkg/s800/fifty%20fifty%20Grand%20Hornu%20foto%20M.Degre%CC%80veCut.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="787" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGZN9dnqqamIErq7rhpgOAv36XeB9HbJSOr6VKgfamtoV9Qlw_Hz9Pu6rpLzakqJkOrWEhHputtqD81N3ga694JfXwBsM16d9U6jbxja2zG9L8PS9fXiRO3_veTMOZhN0C6e8E-KJpXulRkDG8_S1G1nnAiI3BOiZxM48ubEExbtFcuVlmcyLPjyIlXkg/w394-h400/fifty%20fifty%20Grand%20Hornu%20foto%20M.Degre%CC%80veCut.jpg" width="394" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(straat(wo) menphoto in front of 'Pintor' projection - Maria Degrève)</span></i><br />
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Next was in fact becoming
artwork oneself, entering into the realm of straatman, weaving
between associative bits & pieces, fragments, views, connecting
and disconnecting lines of errance and reference and historical
pieces mingling with chance encountered, all reminiscent of past
activities.. a fluid retrospective through which you can flow along
different lines, observing every time a different combination of
affects... and effects.</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The next interludium, a
space between spaces much like the synaps of our nerve-endings, is a
personal thing – each to their own, uncovered or under cover, to
take a moment to acknowledge these two special people – Isi and
Bernd, who in their heyday brought about the special mix of verve and
talent that made the corner behind the museum in Antwerp such an
international hub of the latest goings-on... A to B, and here I think
of more than one B: Beuys, Broodthaers, Byars... who in turn
influence us to this day...
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhyz2px_-vFpQFTZQgDZNSJE1Gil2leazGxAdArMMEOROvFTohKi1HQsiojJpkawUKIuNu1vlRltZw07c4SZxjGFSTrvLb_VzkJOJEXSBPUFI_-4cg19kzbK6UFwTAIgIej3mDf5F-YXfQmDrHvu3sCl4uNUvza4XgLzBl1D7hMVDmdrV0YRt40OZE2g/s1000/GravBerndPrel.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="787" height="419" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhyz2px_-vFpQFTZQgDZNSJE1Gil2leazGxAdArMMEOROvFTohKi1HQsiojJpkawUKIuNu1vlRltZw07c4SZxjGFSTrvLb_VzkJOJEXSBPUFI_-4cg19kzbK6UFwTAIgIej3mDf5F-YXfQmDrHvu3sCl4uNUvza4XgLzBl1D7hMVDmdrV0YRt40OZE2g/w330-h419/GravBerndPrel.jpg" width="330" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMb1xttcgWfU7cG38eCiZTU99YMdsffAtU0XbR0sZ942WsuMrjdrXJb0MXM6gQrRyaWK0gJ1LogHRfpJhP1RqpX2PZrOhSOZ4Z_b7JNM21_dJfDwHeQNyDaqEnrZoU2Ef5Gf6fXxfnob1ZZq7C80lLfmOzjFJwTbSD0WtJNCfliFJGkZ-OLmqOSgDKfw0/s1050/IsiGrStoneW.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="787" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMb1xttcgWfU7cG38eCiZTU99YMdsffAtU0XbR0sZ942WsuMrjdrXJb0MXM6gQrRyaWK0gJ1LogHRfpJhP1RqpX2PZrOhSOZ4Z_b7JNM21_dJfDwHeQNyDaqEnrZoU2Ef5Gf6fXxfnob1ZZq7C80lLfmOzjFJwTbSD0WtJNCfliFJGkZ-OLmqOSgDKfw0/w322-h430/IsiGrStoneW.jpg" width="322" /></a></div><p></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(both
graves were part of this operation – visiting Bernd at the
beginning of plans and Isi towards the end... just before the
pick-nick... (here a splash of liquid sustenance as gesture)</i></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
great hall with it's large format communal patchwork-quilt-style paintings, becoming
interior (land) scape of the endless dance, the whirling of straatman
through time and places all over the world, be it Ripple Bar in Tokyo
or the shifting sands of the Sinai desert...</span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPLFPR-_vitnE6rSk07vSsNihXC7GtRyquRMb9Pe83ZUdorPIkntOblWO-LnRaY4bZkCRnyW4dMSvmIdR6hdUUm-ox7IMrCpkZeydYncz2bSl-wHxni0EvDbJzaogsGFVBAZBuQDQ0qep8t09KeyGOolva12VVtXAHKJawqz281FUQ4erxWW4vWsq-4I/s525/cryptDeGorge.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="394" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPLFPR-_vitnE6rSk07vSsNihXC7GtRyquRMb9Pe83ZUdorPIkntOblWO-LnRaY4bZkCRnyW4dMSvmIdR6hdUUm-ox7IMrCpkZeydYncz2bSl-wHxni0EvDbJzaogsGFVBAZBuQDQ0qep8t09KeyGOolva12VVtXAHKJawqz281FUQ4erxWW4vWsq-4I/w209-h279/cryptDeGorge.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(in
the crypt inexistent graves, the actual bodies are inhumed elsewhere)
</i></span>
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">for
a group-visit to the crypt there was not enough time... still work to
do... sewing together some sheets to make one large enough for the
monumental statue of De Gorge who had lost his left arm... a mystery
that is prone to speculation... and some interesting stories – one
of which related by Jérôme André of the museum; - concerns the
inception of the museum- at the moment that the deed was to be signed
between the architect who had saved the site from destruction and the
province promising to create a contemporary art-site... a great storm
appeared and the night before the signing lightning struck the statue
of De Gorge... blowing him to pieces... (and the moment his arm went
missing... alas no, it seems the arm was already gone... another
theory is souvenir-hunters, or, considering the times the mine was
closed, communist and republican sentiment still ran high... who's
nose, do you think?)</span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">All
we could do is pay homage to this visionary and more-or-less
philanthropic capitalist, taking with one hand and giving with the
other (which is which, missing or not?) by offering him a
straatman-costume and posing for a commemorative photograph bearing
our left arms...</span></p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsdUgbXxwzesjPJ3cw77Lk0Ii_vHAhLYqHkxoEx4aZfZ_-xlctpsxuBCQqebe9n2GCrCUqQrLLvgSmOIH6TF_LDk3V_Ke0eEvL_o0YDyXzbovTDln7xvnS1_hpCkTU1BQxo77mfhmhiCi5SqtVgU34dn6x9GLIKyXlgR8CfL1QxcKZgzD2iJk_tXRgjw0/s827/image002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="827" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsdUgbXxwzesjPJ3cw77Lk0Ii_vHAhLYqHkxoEx4aZfZ_-xlctpsxuBCQqebe9n2GCrCUqQrLLvgSmOIH6TF_LDk3V_Ke0eEvL_o0YDyXzbovTDln7xvnS1_hpCkTU1BQxo77mfhmhiCi5SqtVgU34dn6x9GLIKyXlgR8CfL1QxcKZgzD2iJk_tXRgjw0/w400-h300/image002.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /> </span>
<p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5eanY-LQQLZGJK-VgijU55rE2KmJL8CL0HD-mopukwuMA33Y9GAvfE7ewxvSBI-TJYkLInUlJLFM3kORzFC5AdOYdl5f31FK6DuiOrHEYuMW6YJ0REHsFifeTxMz7O4GlcuepPkYvm7zcEf6Kn5zhO7W-J_n1gVl1Dl3H3TDviKP_Lc8QWfA0I6-ZHI/s1050/GorgeContrJour.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="787" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5eanY-LQQLZGJK-VgijU55rE2KmJL8CL0HD-mopukwuMA33Y9GAvfE7ewxvSBI-TJYkLInUlJLFM3kORzFC5AdOYdl5f31FK6DuiOrHEYuMW6YJ0REHsFifeTxMz7O4GlcuepPkYvm7zcEf6Kn5zhO7W-J_n1gVl1Dl3H3TDviKP_Lc8QWfA0I6-ZHI/s320/GorgeContrJour.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(from
left to right in no order )</i></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Guy
Condé-Reis, Simone Gulden, Frederic Tolmacheff, Corinne Bertrand,
Annick Nölle, Domino Thirion, Guy Cardoso, Lieve Lambrecht, Angel
Vergara, Toni Geirlandt, Carlos Montalvo, Lise Duclaux et François,
Claire Lavendomme, Claudia Radulescu, Beatrice Delcorde, David
Evrard, Raya Lindberg & daughter, Veronique Dockx, Gregoire Motte
& son, Heini Obst, Carine van Erps, Marc Lambrechts, and friend
absent but there in spirit...</i></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">There
was not much time for a philosophical debate, but we did make some
references to Isi's favorite thinker, Spinoza, throughout the day and
the confusion concerning the index and note-structuring between Dutch
and French versions had us searching for the concept of 'Conatus'
(ref <i>Efficiendi est Ambitio III 31s</i>) which Raya Lindberg
wanted to expand upon but could not find the right reference in the
Dutch version, and translation in French being not readily on hand we
were flailing In the dark for a while - until Dominique Thirion came
along with a French version – by which time the discourse had
wafted along and become somewhat dispersed... </span>
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;">(wiki
describes it thus; </span></span><span lang="en"><i>Spinoza's
'conatus' is a signal concept of his thought and one which appears as
an axiom of modern treatments, particularly those of a political
nature. Famously, the conatus doctrine provides: </i></span><span lang="en"><i><b>Each
thing insofar as it is in itself, endeavours to persevere in its
being</b></i></span><span lang="en"><i>.)</i></span></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HCQaFvoHWOAGVpeYP7-TwFsLS8wg3xVp7SHMDUelCW3FF0U0_I9tzKG1SFmKDooN6m7gJeoqAbZRkg5u_j2F6LZhat1GZwj7lmgA5lSDtUXJaoL18MAbWsQ2FReXQnjQXPgRAB2SDE5GAivyAa4GZurIY2endR3qI2meJXrYT2qq1VYXdb8ojbZPUwg/s787/prepgrpfotG.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="787" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HCQaFvoHWOAGVpeYP7-TwFsLS8wg3xVp7SHMDUelCW3FF0U0_I9tzKG1SFmKDooN6m7gJeoqAbZRkg5u_j2F6LZhat1GZwj7lmgA5lSDtUXJaoL18MAbWsQ2FReXQnjQXPgRAB2SDE5GAivyAa4GZurIY2endR3qI2meJXrYT2qq1VYXdb8ojbZPUwg/w400-h300/prepgrpfotG.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgk55LHXooQoX0xg77TD2pVst5N6sxP7qMHIZezjCiRv2XjqpsHZWb4auMUlRIMP6TyeiRE2x08JTtcDtPbmkddRPkvjbiUrZDEVIQTjV9PjEO6JfV068bpsxRkIki2xXRssCJ8EOz1pf-b7QLZWVyIZuidmIvxNY5Ma4Z7GuAfeQcdmRY5vt7eyvb-ng/s1050/CoudreHornu.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="787" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgk55LHXooQoX0xg77TD2pVst5N6sxP7qMHIZezjCiRv2XjqpsHZWb4auMUlRIMP6TyeiRE2x08JTtcDtPbmkddRPkvjbiUrZDEVIQTjV9PjEO6JfV068bpsxRkIki2xXRssCJ8EOz1pf-b7QLZWVyIZuidmIvxNY5Ma4Z7GuAfeQcdmRY5vt7eyvb-ng/w171-h228/CoudreHornu.jpg" width="171" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">...but
that was the nature of this open-air symposium under cover, the
chance encounter or chance operations which conspired to get a sewing
machine (for the drapes) and an umbrella (for the rain, which did not
materialize – but the brolly was used to create a circle) and an
operations-table, being that of a temporary pick-nick-office of this
section of the European Theatre of Operations... </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UFEKbH5vHJtijjtKMhTrZz9qdPs-sltY6nalKjRlpRzc0AI-8TevvfsSu6rQ16VA3ijNRx4ERzeZzJtBstY-RgMow3OLU377ETKfddNEp0ZKi_Nk97-RAMHUUTHQWwzYyAhdRwaR3PNYd7c4sMjauDJDE26FuPomLqA3Q2Xi56s0uCcLh7obI6sR7HA/s4032/ManuJetAnnick.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UFEKbH5vHJtijjtKMhTrZz9qdPs-sltY6nalKjRlpRzc0AI-8TevvfsSu6rQ16VA3ijNRx4ERzeZzJtBstY-RgMow3OLU377ETKfddNEp0ZKi_Nk97-RAMHUUTHQWwzYyAhdRwaR3PNYd7c4sMjauDJDE26FuPomLqA3Q2Xi56s0uCcLh7obI6sR7HA/w480-h640/ManuJetAnnick.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(magic moment in the correography as manu t. atempts a solo - photo by Annick Nölle)</span></i><br /></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">To
wit; the last manifestation was a short interlude base on the basic
premise of Brecht's Caucasian Chalk Circle - having quickly made a
light dusted circle with Bolognese chalk (was going to use <i>craie
de Chamapgne</i> but didn't find any – it was as wink towards
Bernd, for whom ephemeral chalk was the perfect counterbalance to the
heavy beams he used) up on the one side powerful art institutions,
semi-public and private, (played by Manu Tete) and on the other side
the authorized arstist (rather than the rights-holder) (played by
Marc Lambrechts) and in the middle the poor artwork (interpreted
sumptuously by Canine van Erps) on who's behalf this tug-of-war is to
be executed... </span></p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span>
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">As
the role of hapless anarchist poet Azdak who would be the presiding
judge, Carlos M was chosen by popular acclaim. Proceedings were as in
the original (in sketch form) until the judgment was to be made:
expecting something along the lines of the judgment of Solomon, we
were pleasantly surprised when the judge amalgamated into
Dialogist-Kantor under the drapes, mingling as one and refusing to
order a binary judgment at all: they were to lay aside their
differences and live harmoniously together in a state of love, with
no need for police cells or baton charges...</span></p><p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwCcyRiha21CLqynMlCeh3hUm2CKMxGrRqhbvYfpjgKM-INN6VA12M5yVj2bOD5Cz05LAYNTxIokX5TOsPdPYArTi9xqAG3-57Gx8q0dk1oGqfQPuTZe__vmyLGz-S4o3-HU-b7IDvHXz7fl7eSC2r9lptbMl1rZw1IU5KKJrRjwUIstG2m_2hh0yNmI/s900/HornuKreideKreis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="850" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwCcyRiha21CLqynMlCeh3hUm2CKMxGrRqhbvYfpjgKM-INN6VA12M5yVj2bOD5Cz05LAYNTxIokX5TOsPdPYArTi9xqAG3-57Gx8q0dk1oGqfQPuTZe__vmyLGz-S4o3-HU-b7IDvHXz7fl7eSC2r9lptbMl1rZw1IU5KKJrRjwUIstG2m_2hh0yNmI/w378-h400/HornuKreideKreis.jpg" width="378" /></a></div><br />
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Judgment
time: Dialogist-Kantor dissolving the issue through love: art
institution and authorized artist go Scott-free, and the artwork is
allowed to be it's natural self!</i></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">…<span style="font-size: small;">.on
that positive and fraternal note we had to gather our things together
in a hurry, since the bus was already waitung to take us back into
the maelstrom of the civic life outside the walls of this grand
<i>cricus maximus</i> of an arena.... to round off I offer you a
portrait of Straatman (brandishing pastels) and his monumental
effigy.... long live Straatman!</span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2teZ4RPvPdDSHp931O_s34WLVJkqm0ZrSnREc3pR6FjZFA-Eoc786Ve0yELorwMC2GUGNDPTNMxQspwZQV8pu9HYnKSQKWa_fvqDhyoegQkjf30baZlMLCaXHTtiXmVrXH4gdUka8nNbPUb82FTfD8yj8bx-IpMT8zMLUYRVkVmYBYLyNpVAlO8n76Y/s900/AVStraatmanHorMon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="700" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2teZ4RPvPdDSHp931O_s34WLVJkqm0ZrSnREc3pR6FjZFA-Eoc786Ve0yELorwMC2GUGNDPTNMxQspwZQV8pu9HYnKSQKWa_fvqDhyoegQkjf30baZlMLCaXHTtiXmVrXH4gdUka8nNbPUb82FTfD8yj8bx-IpMT8zMLUYRVkVmYBYLyNpVAlO8n76Y/w311-h400/AVStraatmanHorMon.jpg" width="311" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /> </p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-29429741738131849632023-02-03T02:09:00.001-08:002023-02-03T02:09:16.233-08:00and again (#11)<p> </p><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;">First 'Art au Centre' of the year and I decided to have a bit of a preview for just my sneaky self, sort of like a one-man press opening without the tid-bits... Thought I I stayed for the official launch I would get in quite late, but sort of hesitated because an evening in Liége would not have been amiss either... Anyway, I sort of knew some of the haunts from previous editions, and thought I could wing it without map or brochure... But these were in fact already available, so no problem whatsoever...
Often a mixed bag, but always something to interest one or the other enthusiast, the series has become a pleasant fixture to a visit to the city especially when combined with some other something else which I proceeded to do... </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSttp02dvco99OmqYH8dkClcRn8CYq_JYfNEIDO7iwVGJxVOqeU-uYXlfDTL3MK2NOCrm1gL0TLIxIc8nmpujxSx0bRoyM9osTa5ftzQ7ZF0hCjcwitDel4xurZvDiGVnWDZXHiTKKCIih4ZPdJKfbLGB1bKioXiUufl8yYJU9fJbdBISyQFlnAYlI/s512/thatsallF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="512" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSttp02dvco99OmqYH8dkClcRn8CYq_JYfNEIDO7iwVGJxVOqeU-uYXlfDTL3MK2NOCrm1gL0TLIxIc8nmpujxSx0bRoyM9osTa5ftzQ7ZF0hCjcwitDel4xurZvDiGVnWDZXHiTKKCIih4ZPdJKfbLGB1bKioXiUufl8yYJU9fJbdBISyQFlnAYlI/s320/thatsallF.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <br /></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> But first things first -decided to do a loop from the Place St Lambert to Place St Leonard and then see... Which put me into position to check out quite a few windows before deciding what to do next. Just behind the Palace a wink by Petra Herzog at double take reality... Painted (or film) blinds denoting that the place was closed, with two laminates just skew enough to surmise a peeping someone or slightly rough handling... Which is it to be -the viewer can choose... Next up empty showcases by Hadrien Loumaye: except for a wild modification of colour, "vide peint" perhaps a handle one might use... One gallery I was planning to visit was closed, so moseyed on towards a couple of other (Thiriry Hanse) vitrines before considering the turn in my loop... By now geared up to see unintentional art in various shop windows... Or rather "hors serie" interventions... </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksTtFOvavLFc2XKdswhA_N7GXFrUoiuqHxjsnUodxSMK1OIWBYXSxrRI6gnG_4W3HGEvKDE33NGmPdOTRsImM6lWSVJ_KlbEbnQQZFasdca5_6MFcnMUGbCmlK4kJdidHaJv2gH2nVTWVn6VSEUHc_RK5cWSS8n_mXvOWgonhyw1XCfgkMuARPP9Q/s577/CaroleL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="433" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksTtFOvavLFc2XKdswhA_N7GXFrUoiuqHxjsnUodxSMK1OIWBYXSxrRI6gnG_4W3HGEvKDE33NGmPdOTRsImM6lWSVJ_KlbEbnQQZFasdca5_6MFcnMUGbCmlK4kJdidHaJv2gH2nVTWVn6VSEUHc_RK5cWSS8n_mXvOWgonhyw1XCfgkMuARPP9Q/s320/CaroleL.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Well the rue Fernonstrée was one big construction site, which made progress slow and muddy as well as losing one"s barings slightly... Nearly passed by Carole Louis: playful eycandy, cablesalad and junkseed rasins for possible rodents to boot... Boot being the image provided between what otherwise seemed like a punk terrarium for three blind (drunk) mice") window because behind barriers, but per chance she was there herself taking photographs and so realized and got to "meet the artist" to boot... Good omen.. </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnKS9QcTG7Bx75XtoTFt28xrzLMQcrFliWyRZ-YFEDmaHldvkzVEAY52Wd1ZJlgfJBFsljId1rVtpAkDhGL8w6x1iqdril1ntBhQeXmxs_QcwkAnp2EEwMP58HCOxMa6TGmFYDyfxgK2_YaaNWaNUItMFZSGAFAu1czLmifnIGWBg14K6gDBgMQ9w/s427/VereTout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnKS9QcTG7Bx75XtoTFt28xrzLMQcrFliWyRZ-YFEDmaHldvkzVEAY52Wd1ZJlgfJBFsljId1rVtpAkDhGL8w6x1iqdril1ntBhQeXmxs_QcwkAnp2EEwMP58HCOxMa6TGmFYDyfxgK2_YaaNWaNUItMFZSGAFAu1czLmifnIGWBg14K6gDBgMQ9w/s320/VereTout.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;">Headed back towards town and saw Vered Ben Kiki's work across the road behind barriers... It was nice to see how strong her presence is even from a distance and less than optimal circumstances... The windows and the set-up very nice, in fact quite a good location if it had not been for the roadworks.... And one could even consider this a "major show" in as much as it had been a long time since so many and such large works were displayed... Only sorry that she had to miss this upsurge in interest in her work... She would have enjoyed the display, surroundings, circumstances... Since even in this strange messy building-site it had presence... Including the reflections of the window panes in the museum quarter... </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4h9srIUKAIogwtKjo-ceA78khpZQv3fNhSdsgzqwKzLO4iGEaFX80OomdtOo_WcrB7W2OnqClhCs7ZX3vj4FrQZI233TmCbU4yL8ugt2IzusCuqbgMoOYEGH7LRXy88TOca0hkjTtxq4pSIGV9sM5ZADVnO_tA22oleGXmOuRS2IvXzywcYfFHUDl/s577/VeredVue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="433" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4h9srIUKAIogwtKjo-ceA78khpZQv3fNhSdsgzqwKzLO4iGEaFX80OomdtOo_WcrB7W2OnqClhCs7ZX3vj4FrQZI233TmCbU4yL8ugt2IzusCuqbgMoOYEGH7LRXy88TOca0hkjTtxq4pSIGV9sM5ZADVnO_tA22oleGXmOuRS2IvXzywcYfFHUDl/s320/VeredVue.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWNpkRLxvzPXk7_Yhlmbux_J8eDSwqbP-zF7eHQbtxHIMtd_7_NEqi5Io5JjAEctcu3vyqXxhsfVE5sxQ4Dkd5wiYptDn06YBTWh4ZMfj9UQMGSuLUrJb-uAoh3AO3iUKPj0BHMi16gma3iJl04aBMrhX-GkQEC9_BxBXxuI68EdpeBBrj2qOaigLn/s577/VeredBlu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="433" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWNpkRLxvzPXk7_Yhlmbux_J8eDSwqbP-zF7eHQbtxHIMtd_7_NEqi5Io5JjAEctcu3vyqXxhsfVE5sxQ4Dkd5wiYptDn06YBTWh4ZMfj9UQMGSuLUrJb-uAoh3AO3iUKPj0BHMi16gma3iJl04aBMrhX-GkQEC9_BxBXxuI68EdpeBBrj2qOaigLn/s320/VeredBlu.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzcfTV-mSr_W0QlzS14I0dQ4Bp10BZFgd9Ho3R0uQs5FB1kmq02-QxEoLN7tw1q0aodGIlxTAP46B-I5cd0VHwwZjzV0GMo_2ofpsOUtkzSrQCXKkzO_Zq8t3xmOMlvuwjrFcx-vLlNkkWQAyCwKULJbmguTU9RHpPv7XvWUDK5mfVz_tSmT_a0jF_/s577/VeredRef1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="433" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzcfTV-mSr_W0QlzS14I0dQ4Bp10BZFgd9Ho3R0uQs5FB1kmq02-QxEoLN7tw1q0aodGIlxTAP46B-I5cd0VHwwZjzV0GMo_2ofpsOUtkzSrQCXKkzO_Zq8t3xmOMlvuwjrFcx-vLlNkkWQAyCwKULJbmguTU9RHpPv7XvWUDK5mfVz_tSmT_a0jF_/s320/VeredRef1.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;">some takes (reflections permitting)</span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;">A certain surrealist quality, and I found myself taking more photographs of unintentional, Guillaume Bijl-style situations in the area, including the remnants of the gallery ( Brasseurs) we had another homage in just along the way and a number of empty stores... Who can keep up business with this mess in front of the door... But there were a number of AauC interventions along the (muddy) way, (one by ESA St. Luc, another 'mauvais graines' by Julie Gaubert) and I took the time to visit the new (well, most recent) show at the Brasseurs II, 'mezza porta' by Jacques Di Piazza, which was quite a bit better than I thought it would be, adding to the semi-unintentional confusion and trop d'oeil (trompe d"oeil) effect without being literal... The leaking bath leaving the illusion of black water behind it, the spent sulfuric racing tyres in the basement alluding to distance without being anywhere near a solid wall, fake walls and layers, excavation cores of super-thick paintings and replica roofing combined with existent attributes which this sumptuous space had furnished itself...</span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2Pt73g1GLlyXFc9V4XfHeVBR7bPOGbKNL1My6w-GMcval3Ls4kxEpDg5YrBtWwYogrLpMomXNk3oKTB1v3Zz44dyelGkUbscKG37_tCbvy8K3JmxLl4ckgpVi_cTBzhUOtAw47mCvjhdy2-ue-Wj9QK_zSGQNpasHpFmxRhkF8vDCvdxND72_GLT/s433/Brasseur3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="433" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2Pt73g1GLlyXFc9V4XfHeVBR7bPOGbKNL1My6w-GMcval3Ls4kxEpDg5YrBtWwYogrLpMomXNk3oKTB1v3Zz44dyelGkUbscKG37_tCbvy8K3JmxLl4ckgpVi_cTBzhUOtAw47mCvjhdy2-ue-Wj9QK_zSGQNpasHpFmxRhkF8vDCvdxND72_GLT/s320/Brasseur3.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwAm_3aJIQryDDokLSF4XK2P2aXdJI7c3OmOu3g-Xaa-LVWP5UVZk1oWSptnnKe53DUh8MIjV8Bfj4ZLT1_v_QsD8JdOm7_bKOP5eJa56oE5vhIywREmxa0X0WW-F0jznwBeSNni_-Kb1hpv75cusJo5DaKImUWRbQRGyTxQhtoE2c5fpqKn2Zf0jk/s577/Brasseur4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="433" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwAm_3aJIQryDDokLSF4XK2P2aXdJI7c3OmOu3g-Xaa-LVWP5UVZk1oWSptnnKe53DUh8MIjV8Bfj4ZLT1_v_QsD8JdOm7_bKOP5eJa56oE5vhIywREmxa0X0WW-F0jznwBeSNni_-Kb1hpv75cusJo5DaKImUWRbQRGyTxQhtoE2c5fpqKn2Zf0jk/s320/Brasseur4.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></pre><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLI4cqOplhlb1A0Fp9Xhq3MXNJbVod80M8v-8JKOdFnOXAK2_RB7OjAyq1XdCTTIsmr0Wby1uqoJpXN58kSs_ioAZJk5YTMgsxaDyG0ZnG2fUrp7g4r1OXzFYbRfOjw0UyZUicWCndzM1jSG4DPi7ERm4_35HYId19x5Vh13Wpw-Ppna1f66XnV7Gz/s525/Brasseur2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="394" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLI4cqOplhlb1A0Fp9Xhq3MXNJbVod80M8v-8JKOdFnOXAK2_RB7OjAyq1XdCTTIsmr0Wby1uqoJpXN58kSs_ioAZJk5YTMgsxaDyG0ZnG2fUrp7g4r1OXzFYbRfOjw0UyZUicWCndzM1jSG4DPi7ERm4_35HYId19x5Vh13Wpw-Ppna1f66XnV7Gz/s320/Brasseur2.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQObhHFh-L5yhLKaGgG6ORo7g4q7CKoiLJnWnqieYCG509yt7T-TYNEoUUznQDWcV6SHoCUoiBAPXutQUdljqwHxXfMuIw0Kgs5ju6lQ79x7VnJh7gRamee8y-fMtOOeZ80HToFcxiyqu3IgxcnsQ-6ID5_md2umoz7NJYFSuzh62J6poqcc1ENz9/s472/1brasseurs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="354" data-original-width="472" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQObhHFh-L5yhLKaGgG6ORo7g4q7CKoiLJnWnqieYCG509yt7T-TYNEoUUznQDWcV6SHoCUoiBAPXutQUdljqwHxXfMuIw0Kgs5ju6lQ79x7VnJh7gRamee8y-fMtOOeZ80HToFcxiyqu3IgxcnsQ-6ID5_md2umoz7NJYFSuzh62J6poqcc1ENz9/w183-h137/1brasseurs.jpg" width="183" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-family: georgia;"> In the showcase a work by Indigo Deijmann surrounding a crush on an actor, a sort of exhaustive miniature museum and shrine... I didn't immediately find the next venues and decided I was going to leave it at that for the time being, intending on returning to continue the itinerary... It is in fact quite extensive and so perhaps best sectioned... And a good excuse to return for a second impression too...
( other recent trips to Liege were for less that happy occasions) </span>
</pre><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUx5TgxdRQ6hiPWYHL4-UJZHUqdr-H2S4TxboHncRMbx1w9QMWHezNaBFMuITvGuqk2YBU1_HlTCxzzneEchtxtsW7ZokV4_hN1LdMW7SNx1TE0QPtxtdKZn7E0cawhWjOz9Z0M3rMGxmBCvBe9MSFgcyTWBlSbG1RhNggsocNraI_ogm5KXvC4SD/s551/Brasseur6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="551" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUx5TgxdRQ6hiPWYHL4-UJZHUqdr-H2S4TxboHncRMbx1w9QMWHezNaBFMuITvGuqk2YBU1_HlTCxzzneEchtxtsW7ZokV4_hN1LdMW7SNx1TE0QPtxtdKZn7E0cawhWjOz9Z0M3rMGxmBCvBe9MSFgcyTWBlSbG1RhNggsocNraI_ogm5KXvC4SD/s320/Brasseur6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxoh-JSi0cs6eBLb656vVdHV-98xzn3RwHpFKwr0-cjBhjJtnaiumwE5Cio8yI7ZFabYAyY-M2KkNAneoZBkTRakyt7ss4HQS9HDjtka2bMi43fs9sOU4gJIfV410zhE01x3GzsmdGiDIpNz2X06B3vUn7DBD9GSVN0k0ULzCSY9ZBH7Sb6xdkfrcm/s551/Brasseur7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="551" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxoh-JSi0cs6eBLb656vVdHV-98xzn3RwHpFKwr0-cjBhjJtnaiumwE5Cio8yI7ZFabYAyY-M2KkNAneoZBkTRakyt7ss4HQS9HDjtka2bMi43fs9sOU4gJIfV410zhE01x3GzsmdGiDIpNz2X06B3vUn7DBD9GSVN0k0ULzCSY9ZBH7Sb6xdkfrcm/s320/Brasseur7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-19319381101730839302022-11-26T03:39:00.015-08:002022-11-30T07:29:24.174-08:00Season reverb<p>
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">SeasonalReverb</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Well after the summer
runaround we redoubled our tracks locally to see what had been
slumbering during the covid slowdown and all that, now back in
gear... September saw us rediscovering a piece of Ghent we had not
known, perchance, on the way away... (see <i>sommerskool gent ri fica</i>
on gruzeblogA) while October had us revisit haunts we had sort of
neglected of late: Liège... beginning with the colour-clad
station...</p>
<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwd7q9Pgx71IndP6-OQ-VV9oeEJjd5QqA-zUtWF7-GpzIUea3A8S22ZkuXtcVWbvWWIvKrqKHfH7Jjf0f6kozgeXNnaaSRfbWgfNBd8vLR8kTqTAXqNw4kqE__kG-49-HfcSiSlu97wOaPayaQRoM_L9fOKuMpaPMgm7r0cz4MgwbvEoKEqtaWUo5F/s630/CalatravaBurenLiege.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="472" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwd7q9Pgx71IndP6-OQ-VV9oeEJjd5QqA-zUtWF7-GpzIUea3A8S22ZkuXtcVWbvWWIvKrqKHfH7Jjf0f6kozgeXNnaaSRfbWgfNBd8vLR8kTqTAXqNw4kqE__kG-49-HfcSiSlu97wOaPayaQRoM_L9fOKuMpaPMgm7r0cz4MgwbvEoKEqtaWUo5F/w300-h400/CalatravaBurenLiege.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Daniel Buren at it's most
decorative – I must admit it plays OK with the light and such, but
it is a far cry from the radical minimal stripe-statement which made
his name – but that is nothing new and I already railed against the
tendency way back when I was in Paris and even some time before –
as with more of our minimal heroes... anyway, we followed a hapahzard
circuit of the 'Art au Centre' which as so many of these sequential
group effort has it's merits but don't always hit the mark... but
it's okay, eve if we missed out on a work related to our presentation
at Bukta around the same time... more on that later. We did however
manage to see Djos Janssens intervention at the Théàtre de Liège –
might have been more if seen with public moving through the doors,
but food for thought anyway, more than just a snack, and I even
considered if this in/out aspect was part of the concept...
considering he likes to reflect his work back at you through the
looking-glass, no?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltpyYwtOBRsASbbhtmpvKNU9VltSAcgTehf845v01hcRdpMcdbtoZO5jpZT-6pBQLZ_v_3VTj7lH048ZKyrwXkjt5iereBVAabTQzeOQUp4h4FjVWJpnO0Apoezi86mKmciXYq7-k6VStEtB33nqSi6ZSMjWwrb5NO1Gry1XIiBKVfjmZlW1-AJYk/s682/DjosLiege.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltpyYwtOBRsASbbhtmpvKNU9VltSAcgTehf845v01hcRdpMcdbtoZO5jpZT-6pBQLZ_v_3VTj7lH048ZKyrwXkjt5iereBVAabTQzeOQUp4h4FjVWJpnO0Apoezi86mKmciXYq7-k6VStEtB33nqSi6ZSMjWwrb5NO1Gry1XIiBKVfjmZlW1-AJYk/s320/DjosLiege.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MtaMAhgfRallIFN6KPpbqABeuYrcIttONYS79VKpT8c2XFO5A_jdSGlamLz0aY4m9AyUoKwUx5r6xyrgt7kAnWGdK2ue2eXoC4yzbEYz3_LVhbJmm9UwH0rJw0Tykjr8ffwYbIgWm0w24sUgQZplfc7RGv3uiIv4SGGC4UfWU1uQaILB6QUjbp1C/s709/DoorLiege.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="709" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MtaMAhgfRallIFN6KPpbqABeuYrcIttONYS79VKpT8c2XFO5A_jdSGlamLz0aY4m9AyUoKwUx5r6xyrgt7kAnWGdK2ue2eXoC4yzbEYz3_LVhbJmm9UwH0rJw0Tykjr8ffwYbIgWm0w24sUgQZplfc7RGv3uiIv4SGGC4UfWU1uQaILB6QUjbp1C/s320/DoorLiege.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">But it was an
uncharacteristically balmy day and we enjoyed just the city as it
were before heading to our goal at the Drapieres –'<i>impossibles
réparations</i>' the third part of Tatiana Bohm's investigation into
the re-ravelling of our colonial past... (commented on Bukta-site)
returning to the station a last vestige of the once militant bastion
of worker's rights – the whole popular area around Guillmains
razed, revolution overpainted...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFnsXwFr1hb2tBEminfoYPZseoLtzSajnXYQYJxfMd5zqIfJ2g5Je_nVhVLdI_8RwIzx-tCF5ofaHe5VCZvsRCtWPKEsSfyeD47NUKPYpeMKE65q_yZekMYwpZbRg1SNcTbX-vY7VpJWrcIyGx68kyYxQHGq4tNST_lHHA1AtW9FmI2r1KIYzWR6f/s787/RevoLiege.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="787" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFnsXwFr1hb2tBEminfoYPZseoLtzSajnXYQYJxfMd5zqIfJ2g5Je_nVhVLdI_8RwIzx-tCF5ofaHe5VCZvsRCtWPKEsSfyeD47NUKPYpeMKE65q_yZekMYwpZbRg1SNcTbX-vY7VpJWrcIyGx68kyYxQHGq4tNST_lHHA1AtW9FmI2r1KIYzWR6f/w400-h300/RevoLiege.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Grand opening at Hornu –
the Mac's celebrating it's 20<sup>th</sup> anniversary, and for the
occasion, Denis Ghilen gave his former boss carte blanche... it was
Laurent Busine that put the place on the map after all... and also
now he managed to give us a sumptuous understated comment on the
state of affairs and ourselves... “<i>Les Fabriques du coeur et
leur usage</i>” - far from bloated spectacle and pretense, a slice
of life collection in a very traditional frame, but so much to take
home in consideration and bemusing...
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">(and with quite a few
favorites past and present, so yes, thumbs up)</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdwMvi8nSZsYojDOTF5PiXdW--sKPilnJQBzotONMNtGrPzAmwlIVfQQjTdwu-FlxIz9vobo8pZPuM8BDVBOsuq_pluVAq2zkT0qH9_t-jRmlMf1cUu3cV3xbWt2ukjyz3pTyJs9MNt8GTIZZ9zJk9CL3PZ2gAgfCeYvW3WIuGRGJ0OPHgekXN9li/s709/HornuKader.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="709" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdwMvi8nSZsYojDOTF5PiXdW--sKPilnJQBzotONMNtGrPzAmwlIVfQQjTdwu-FlxIz9vobo8pZPuM8BDVBOsuq_pluVAq2zkT0qH9_t-jRmlMf1cUu3cV3xbWt2ukjyz3pTyJs9MNt8GTIZZ9zJk9CL3PZ2gAgfCeYvW3WIuGRGJ0OPHgekXN9li/w400-h300/HornuKader.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Back in Uccle at the
academy, Domino Thirion again pleased us with a one-day presentation
of a grand collection on a model scale, though it was anything than
toying with us – rather a <i>maquette</i> of a possible pavilion in
which the small and slight gesture figures large, and the tiniest
intervention holds great consequence...
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_c3980TDayHIL-efZ0g6JjAYg__jLI-ti8PaU-u4Num5lUY4WodVOpIrHAzPH3NTIwoVSCj0ON-0502ee0FZVtwJfR7Asx5QOzEJ_kaTpA00NhLhpezQZuZ4eJnzOk46vIL2iCmSLpBm_FZ49OXmdUsUK104aUDryRDMSDe5HTo7-VkNwCqMRq_Fa/s709/PavillioUkk.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="709" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_c3980TDayHIL-efZ0g6JjAYg__jLI-ti8PaU-u4Num5lUY4WodVOpIrHAzPH3NTIwoVSCj0ON-0502ee0FZVtwJfR7Asx5QOzEJ_kaTpA00NhLhpezQZuZ4eJnzOk46vIL2iCmSLpBm_FZ49OXmdUsUK104aUDryRDMSDe5HTo7-VkNwCqMRq_Fa/s320/PavillioUkk.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Tolmacheff got himself
some more space recently – and used the occasion of his anniversary
to show it off- before it gets stuck with art – though admittedly
he could not refrain from introducing a work or two of his own...
refreshingly understated but stated nonetheless – a tie-tied
floor-mat as welcome, and a mysterious orfice leading you to
believe... well, up to you...</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8x8fO_w-KqieYzPUgey7vOMM0-RPm4ggx5IJ_coV4YBGqDAB5LnYemcq6Ijjpc38p5dyi6Y_Gf0bSZSxChxN4E10DXmMjrAc_LIxKk7NZ_aRpj7aGe4Yc1g6jZeNpwJwz-0qfUu_WaMDwbbUZDCYH6BxHQSD63unmHetQzI_iZ_PUeJYtL10qqO8/s525/OrficeTolma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="394" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8x8fO_w-KqieYzPUgey7vOMM0-RPm4ggx5IJ_coV4YBGqDAB5LnYemcq6Ijjpc38p5dyi6Y_Gf0bSZSxChxN4E10DXmMjrAc_LIxKk7NZ_aRpj7aGe4Yc1g6jZeNpwJwz-0qfUu_WaMDwbbUZDCYH6BxHQSD63unmHetQzI_iZ_PUeJYtL10qqO8/s320/OrficeTolma.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpXfilWVFZxZJgMblfIBWu_SsjuKcz2VGN6vrwQk7eQ9Q0LzbDnlzTlSK4uFy6ik0y8M8LAvExo2wsb_LDpfVgbjre9mYcfY-AbbXOV8FLIb-SNUqa3Ih1VxUMVjHRKVo_fqd3GAH7NQRgW0HpuPzWUujem6MxlD8l9JtbL-UF3aKA6Hg9z9Txo6ax/s591/TolmaCravat.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="591" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpXfilWVFZxZJgMblfIBWu_SsjuKcz2VGN6vrwQk7eQ9Q0LzbDnlzTlSK4uFy6ik0y8M8LAvExo2wsb_LDpfVgbjre9mYcfY-AbbXOV8FLIb-SNUqa3Ih1VxUMVjHRKVo_fqd3GAH7NQRgW0HpuPzWUujem6MxlD8l9JtbL-UF3aKA6Hg9z9Txo6ax/w400-h300/TolmaCravat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0.42cm; margin-top: 0.18cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Thought
I arrived late at the B.I.O.S. Show in the rue Bara Brussels, but was
in fact not – not thus: noght... Annick had a mishap and wasn't
coming, so no performance – though everything was ready: similar
set-up as in Antwerp, though darker, more lugubrious – it was
evening and there were videos, so no surprise, but it did give the
whole a different atmosphere than usual, being light and flighty - </span></span></span>
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0.42cm; margin-top: 0.18cm;"><i><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">since
there was no performance to report on I take the opportunity to
reproduce here the full text of my verision written for the Antwerp
show.. </span></span></span></i>
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0.42cm; margin-top: 0.18cm;"><br /><br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLTDiZaZIptT-K6Sb4YoOXFBmgK_h_cGIHiQNQP1eV-qkMua6ZdKuzdXlzA_XDRoRTWYrp08NDMrlwE_Qtej__aLCzm_qV6PQqAdqvqIEFEDHmzrhoIY_ZAnNy7SykRNgA3_HOjwcY31SckaxrJ5yGcVxVSz-PdVi_XuBJYoeddygnuJe2RJlp8FW/s427/DoCrxAN3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="320" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLTDiZaZIptT-K6Sb4YoOXFBmgK_h_cGIHiQNQP1eV-qkMua6ZdKuzdXlzA_XDRoRTWYrp08NDMrlwE_Qtej__aLCzm_qV6PQqAdqvqIEFEDHmzrhoIY_ZAnNy7SykRNgA3_HOjwcY31SckaxrJ5yGcVxVSz-PdVi_XuBJYoeddygnuJe2RJlp8FW/w300-h400/DoCrxAN3.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
<p lang="nl-BE" style="margin-bottom: 0.42cm; margin-top: 0.18cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-GB">The
work of Annick Nölle has always struck me as light, flighty even,
free-spirited and ever so positive – that is why I was slightly
concerned to find the reference to mourning in this installation...
to mourn the loss of something or someone is to view the past – to
re-view. Perhaps my view of a happy-go-lucky and permanently positive
artist is but a figment of my own imagination... based on past
instances in which I had the privilege to work with her – for
instance on the </span><span lang="en-GB"><i>A Ripple in the Stuff of
the Universe</i></span><span lang="en-GB"> installation, part of the
Ramble series at the Felixart museum, and certainly the various
“jaarlijks verlof/vacances annuelles” and various interventions
during 'Laboratoires Patacyclistes' and group projects like the
Cadavre Exquis in the rue de Flandre.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0.42cm; margin-top: 0.18cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Annick
told me: addressing the question of mourning is one way to talk about
how we humans deal with ourselves and our environment in this
particular society at this specific moment in time. The way we mourn,
or rather not mourn, is in my opinion a serious issue we should
really start to deal with, for the sake of peace. There´s a lot of
unmourned sadness in our society that turns into violence.</span></span></span></p>
<p lang="nl-BE" style="margin-bottom: 0.42cm; margin-top: 0.18cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-GB">In
her earlier work, </span><span lang="en-GB"><i>A Ripple in the Stuff
of the Universe,</i></span><span lang="en-GB"> Annick Nölle
referenced the literature of Mark Twain and subtitled the 'Wild is
the Wind' section with a quote: “Light out for the territories”.
It represents the wish for an unorganized landscape full of
potential, much like the field or cloud of potentialities in quantum
field theory – which also emerged at the turn of the (former)
century. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The
materials hark back to a time when the gifts of nature still seemed
abundant and life was not yet as commercialized as it is today;
freedom of thought, factual though it may be, is under strain through
all kinds of applications that influence or affect one’s behavior
without one even realizing it. </span></span></span></p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Becoming
more conscious’ is one of the aspects that is presented here in a
whirlwind of potentials, in which the evisceration of bowels –
against the wind – becomes a way to reference not only the
microbiome yet also that which we all refer to as 'gut feeling'...</span></span></span></p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0.18cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The
smock from the invitation and performance reminds one of the painters
of yore, and its length is reminiscent of the work of Gabriele Münter
(not only as a painter, but mainly the anthropologically interesting
photographs she made during her visit to the American Midwest at the
turn of the (former) century) - who, together with Kandinsky,
breached the barrier of abstraction in Western culture back in
1911... heady times which are reflected here: the various
grounds, both earth-colored and translucent, populated by any number
of representational, fragmentary and abstracted thoughts – put to
paper and cut, pasted, arranged and juxtaposed again through repeated
manipulation – that pertain to personal reflections as well as
notions of NonViolentCommunication, seeking connection so as to
facilitate new solutions to old problems... much as for instance Max
Plank would think outside of the box to address problems not solved
by classic means.</span></span></span></p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p>
<p lang="nl-BE" style="margin-bottom: 0.42cm; margin-top: 0.18cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-GB">Annick
Nölle's work keeps changing yet always retains a connection with
earlier incarnations. It is precisely when one thinks one understands
it that the surprise strikes, and nothing appears to be in place; it
either swirls around in a cloud of potentialities (see above) or
lingers for a moment, as it does in a </span><span lang="en-GB"><i>dérive</i></span><span lang="en-GB">
or </span><span lang="en-GB"><i>déjeuner sur l'herbe</i></span><span lang="en-GB">,
with all the elements seemingly disorganised and scattered across the
bedspread on the floor or in the air, and the snacks and delicacies
mixed in with tracts and essays, heartfelt sentiments and heartfelt
laughter. An inspiring conversation of signs and ideas that, at a
moment's notice, makes one's head spin so that one might require a
moment's rest, one in which one can still perceive the gentle
sloshing of digestion.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="nl-NL"><a name="tw-target-text"></a><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Het werk van Annick Nölle heb ik altijd licht, vluchtig zelfs, vrijgevochten en altijd zo positief gevonden - daarom was ik enigszins bezorgd om de verwijzing naar rouw in deze installatie... om te rouwen om het verlies van iets of iemand is om het verleden te bekijken – te reviseren. Misschien is mijn kijk op de gelukkige en permanent positieve artiest slechts een verzinsel van mijn eigen verbeelding ... gebaseerd op eerdere gevallen waarin ik het voorrecht had om met haar te werken - bijvoorbeeld aan de de installatie <i>A Ripple in the Stuff of the Universe</i>, onderdeel van de reeks <i>Ramble</i> in het Felixart museum, en zeker de verschillende "jaarlijks verlof/vacances annuelles" en diverse interventies tijdens 'Laboratoires Patacyclistes' en groepsprojecten zoals het Cadavre Exquis in de rue de Flandre.</span></span></span>
</p>
<div dir="LTR" id="tw-target-text-container"><p>
</p><p class="western" lang="nl-NL" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Annick zei me: het aanpakken van de kwestie van rouw is een manier om te praten over hoe wij mensen op dit specifieke moment omgaan met onszelf en onze omgeving in deze specifieke samenleving. De manier waarop we rouwen, of liever niet rouwen, is naar mijn mening een serieus probleem waar we echt mee aan de slag moeten gaan, omwille van de vrede. Er is veel niet-gerouwd verdriet in onze samenleving dat overgaat in geweld.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="nl-NL">In haar eerdere werk, <i>A Ripple in the Stuff of the Universe</i>, verwees Annick Nölle naar de literatuur van Mark Twain en ondertitelde de sectie '<i>Wild is the Wind</i>' met een citaat: <i>"Light out for the Territoria"</i>. Het vertegenwoordigt de wens naar een ongeorganiseerd landschap vol potentieel, net zoals het veld of de wolk van mogelijkheden in de kwantumveldentheorie - die trouwens ook ontstond aan het begin van de (vorige) eeuw.</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="nl-NL">De materialen gaan terug naar een tijd waarin de gaven van de natuur nog overvloedig leken en het leven nog niet zo gecommercialiseerd was als nu; vrijheid van denken, hoe feitelijk ook, staat onder druk door allerlei toepassingen die iemands gedrag beïnvloeden of zelfs beïnvloeden zonder dat men het zich realiseert.</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="nl-NL">'Bewuster worden' is een van de aspecten die hier wordt gepresenteerd in een wervelwind van potentiëlen, waarbij het uitknippen van darmen - tegen de wind in - een manier is om niet alleen naar het microbioom te verwijzen, maar ook naar dat wat we allemaal 'onderbuikgevoel' noemen...</span></span></span></p><p>
</p></div>
<p class="western" lang="nl-NL"><a name="tw-target-text1"></a><a name="tw-target-text-container"></a><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">De kiel (Schilderskleed) van de uitnodiging en performance doet denken aan de schilders van weleer, en de lengte doet denken aan het werk van Gabriele Münter (niet alleen als schilder, maar vooral de antropologisch interessante foto's die ze maakte tijdens haar bezoek aan het Amerikaanse Midwesten tijdens de (vorige) eeuwwisseling) - die samen met Kandinsky in 1911 de barrière van abstractie in de westerse cultuur doorbrak... onstuimige tijden die hier worden weerspiegeld: de verschillende gronden, zowel aardekleurig als doorschijnend, bevolkt door aantal representatieve, fragmentarische en geabstraheerde gedachten – op papier gezet en geknipt, geplakt, gearrangeerd en weer naast elkaar geplaatst door herhaalde manipulatie – die betrekking hebben op persoonlijke reflecties en noties van geweldloze communicatie, op zoek naar verbinding om nieuwe oplossingen voor oude problemen mogelijk te maken. Net zoals Max Plank bijvoorbeeld buiten de gebaande paden zou denken om problemen aan te pakken die niet met klassieke middelen kunnen worden opgelost.</span></span></span></p>
<div dir="LTR" id="Sectie1"><p>
</p><p class="western" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="nl-NL">Het werk van Annick Nölle verandert voortdurend, maar blijft altijd verbonden met eerdere incarnaties. Het is precies wanneer je denkt het te begrijpen dat de verrassing toeslaat, en niets lijkt op zijn plaats; het wervelt ofwel rond in een wolk van mogelijkheden (zie hierboven) of blijft even hangen, zoals in een dérive of dejeuner sur l'herbe, met alle elementen schijnbaar ongeorganiseerd en verspreid over de sprei op de grond of in de lucht , en de hapjes en lekkernijen vermengd met traktaten en essays, oprechte gevoelens en oprecht gelach. Een inspirerend gesprek van tekens en ideeën die in een oogwenk het hoofd doen tollen zodat je even rust nodig hebt, een waarin je nog steeds het zachte klotsen van de spijsvertering kunt waarnemen.</span></span></span></p><p>
</p></div>
<div dir="LTR" id="Sectie2"><p>
</p><p><a name="tw-target-rmn"></a><a name="tw-target-rmn-container"></a>
<br /><br />
</p><p>
</p></div>
<p class="western" lang="de-DE"><a name="tw-target-text2"></a><a name="tw-target-text-container1"></a><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Die Arbeit von Annick Nölle fand ich immer leicht, flüchtig sogar, freigeistig und immer so positiv - deshalb stimmte mir der Bezug zur Trauer in dieser Installation ein wenig besorgt... es handelt um Rückblick, wieder ansehen – revidieren. Vielleicht ist mein Blick auf die glückliche und dauerhaft positive Künstlerin nur eine Erfindung meiner eigenen Fantasie… basierend auf früheren Fällen, in denen ich das Privileg hatte, mit ihr zusammenzuarbeiten – zum Beispiel bei der Installation <i>A Ripple in the Stuff of the Universe</i>, Teil der Ramble-Reihe im Felixart-Museum, und sicherlich die verschiedenen "Jahresurlaub/vacances annuelles" und diversen Interventionen bei den "Laboratoires Patacyclistes" und Gruppenprojekten wie dem Cadavre Exquis in der Rue de Flandre.</span></span></span></p>
<div dir="LTR" id="Sectie3"><p>
</p><p class="western" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="de-DE">Annick sagte mir: Das Thema Trauer anzusprechen ist eine Art, darüber zu sprechen, wie wir Menschen in dieser spezifischen Gesellschaft in dieser besonderen Zeit mit uns selbst und unserer Umwelt interagieren. Die Art und Weise, wie wir trauern oder besser nicht trauern, ist meiner Meinung nach ein ernstes Problem, mit dem wir uns im Interesse des Friedens wirklich auseinandersetzen müssen. In unserer Gesellschaft gibt es viel ungelöste Trauer, die in Gewalt umschlägt.</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="de-DE">In ihrem früheren Werk <i>A Ripple in the Stuff of the Universe</i> bezog sich Annick Nölle auf die Literatur von Mark Twain und betitelte den Abschnitt „Wild is the Wind“ mit einem Zitat: „Light out for the Territories“. Es repräsentiert den Wunsch nach einer desorganisierten Landschaft voller Potenziale, genau wie das Feld oder die Wolke der Möglichkeiten in der Quantenfeldtheorie – die übrigens auch zu Beginn des (letzten) Jahrhunderts entstanden ist.</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="de-DE">Die Materialien gehen auf eine Zeit zurück, als die Gaben der Natur noch im Überfluss schienen und das Leben noch nicht so kommerzialisiert war wie heute; Gedankenfreiheit, wenn auch faktisch, wird durch alle möglichen Anwendungen unter druck gesetzt, die das verhalten beeinflussen oder sogar beeinflussen kann, ohne es zu merken.</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="de-DE">'Bewusstsein schärfen' ist einer der Aspekte, die hier in einem Wirbelwind von Potenzialen präsentiert werden, bei dem das Ausschneiden von Eingeweide - gegen den Wind - eine Möglichkeit ist, nicht nur auf das Mikrobiom zu verweisen, sondern auch auf das, was wir alle 'Bauchgefühl nennen...</span></span></span></p><p>
</p></div>
<p class="western" lang="de-DE" style="text-align: left;"><a name="tw-target-text3"></a><a name="tw-target-text-container2"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Der Kittel (Malerrobe) der Einladung und Performance erinnert an die Maler vergangener Zeiten, die Länge an Gabriele Münter und ihr Werk (nicht nur als Malerin, sondern vor allem an den anthropologisch interessanten Fotos, die sie bei ihrem Besuch im Mittleren Westen der USA gemacht hat um die (vorherige) Jahrhundertwende) – und die 1911 zusammen mit Kandinsky die Abstraktionsgrenze der westlichen Kultur durchbrach... repräsentative, fragmentarische und abstrahierte Gedanken – auf Papier gebracht und ausgeschnitten, geklebt, arrangiert und durch wiederholte Manipulation wieder zusammengesetzt – mit persönlichen Reflexionen und Vorstellungen von gewaltfreier Kommunikation, auf der Suche nach Verbindungen, um neue Lösungen für alte Probleme zu ermöglichen. So wie zum Beispiel Max Plank über den Tellerrand blicken würde, um Probleme anzugehen, die mit klassischen Mitteln nicht zu lösen sind.</span></span></p>
<div dir="LTR" id="Sectie5"><p>
</p><p class="western" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="de-DE">Das Werk von Annick Nölle verändert sich ständig, bleibt aber immer mit früheren Inkarnationen verbunden. Es ist genau dann, wenn man sie glaubt zu verstehen, dass die Überraschung zuschlägt und nichts auf seinem Platz erscheint; es wirbelt entweder in einer Wolke von Möglichkeiten herum (siehe oben) oder verweilt für einen Moment wie in einem <i>Dérive</i> oder <i>Déjeuner sur l'Herbe</i>, wobei alle Elemente scheinbar desorganisiert und auf der Tagesdecke auf dem Boden oder in der Luft verstreut sind, und die Häppchen und Köstlichkeiten vermischten sich mit Traktaten und Essays, herzlichen Gefühlen und herzlichem Lachen. Ein inspirierendes Gespräch von Zeichen und Ideen, die Ihnen im Handumdrehen den Kopf verdrehen lassen, sodass man eine kleine Pause braucht, in der man noch das sanfte Gluksen der Verdauung hören kann.</span></span></span></p><p>
</p></div>
<div dir="LTR" id="Sectie6"><p>
</p><p><a name="tw-target-rmn2"></a><a name="tw-target-rmn-container2"></a>
<br /><br />
</p><p></p></div><p><a name="tw-target-rmn1"></a><a name="tw-target-rmn-container1"></a></p>
<p class="western" lang="fr-FR" style="text-align: left;"><a name="tw-target-text4"></a><a name="tw-target-text-container3"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Le travail d'Annick Nölle m'a toujours semblé léger, volage même, libre d'esprit et toujours aussi positif - c'est pourquoi j'étais un peu inquiet de trouver la référence au deuil dans cette installation... pleurer la perte de quelque chose ou de quelqu'un est de voir le passé – de re-voir, revisiter. Peut-être que ma vision d'une artiste insouciante et positive en permanence n'est que le fruit de ma propre imagination... basée sur des exemples passés dans lesquels j'ai eu le privilège de travailler avec elle - par exemple sur <i>A Ripple in the Stuff of the Universe</i>, installation qui faisait partie de la série Ramble au musée Félixart, et certainement les différentes « jaarlijks verlof/vacances annuelles » et diverses interventions lors des 'Laboratoires Patacyclistes' et des projets collectifs comme le Cadavre Exquis de la rue de Flandre.</span></span>
</p>
<div dir="LTR" id="Sectie7"><p>
</p><p class="western" lang="fr-FR" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Annick m'a dit : aborder la question du deuil est une façon de parler de la façon dont nous, les humains, traitons nous-mêmes et notre environnement dans cette société particulière à ce moment précis. La façon dont nous pleurons, ou plutôt ne pleurons pas, est à mon avis une question sérieuse que nous devrions vraiment commencer à traiter, pour le bien de la paix. Il y a beaucoup de tristesse sans deuil dans notre société qui se transforme en violence.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="fr-FR">Dans son ouvrage précédent, <i>A Ripple in the Stuff of the Universe</i>, Annick Nölle a fait référence à la littérature de Mark Twain et a sous-titré la section « Wild is the Wind » avec une citation : « Light out for the Territories ». (foutre le camp pour les territoires) Il représente le souhait d'un paysage inorganisé plein de potentiel, un peu comme le champ ou le nuage de potentialités de la théorie quantique des champs - qui a également émergé au tournant du (avant-dernière) siècle.</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="fr-FR">Les matériaux remontent à une époque où les dons de la nature semblaient encore abondants et la vie n'était pas encore aussi commercialisée qu'aujourd'hui; la liberté de pensée, même aussi factuelle soit-elle, est mise à rude épreuve par toutes sortes d'applications qui influencent ou affectent le comportement d'une personne sans même que l'on s'en rende compte.</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="fr-FR">« Devenir plus conscient » est l'un des aspects qui est présenté ici dans un tourbillon de potentiels, dans lequel l'éviscération des intestins - contre le vent - devient un moyen de référencer non seulement au micro-biome mais aussi ce que nous appelons « à l'instinct, viscéral', du ventre »...</span></span></span></p><p>
</p></div>
<p class="western" lang="fr-FR" style="text-align: left;"><a name="tw-target-text5"></a><a name="tw-target-text-container4"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">La blouse d'artiste de l'invitation et de la performance rappelle celle des peintres d'autrefois, et sa longueur rappelle le travail de Gabriele Münter (non seulement en tant que peintre, mais surtout les photographies anthropologiquement intéressantes qu'elle a réalisées lors de sa visite dans le Midwest américain au tournant du (avant-dernière) siècle) - qui, avec Kandinsky, a franchi la barrière de l'abstraction dans la culture occidentale en 1911... des temps grisants qui se reflètent ici: les différents sols, à la fois terreux et translucides, peuplés de n'importe quel nombre de pensées figuratives, fragmentaires et abstraites – mises sur papier et coupées, collées, arrangées et juxtaposées à nouveau par des manipulations répétées – qui se rapportent à des réflexions personnelles ainsi qu'à des notions de Communication Non-Violente, cherchant une connexion afin de faciliter de nouvelles solutions à d'anciens problèmes. un peu comme, par exemple, Max Plank sortirait des sentiers battus pour résoudre des problèmes non résolus par des moyens classiques.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="fr-FR">Le travail d'Annick Nölle ne cesse de changer mais conserve toujours un lien avec des incarnations antérieures. C'est précisément quand on croit le comprendre que la surprise frappe, et rien ne semble être en place ; il tourbillonne dans un nuage de potentialités (voir ci-dessus) ou s'attarde un instant, comme dans une dérive ou un déjeuner sur l'herbe, avec tous les éléments apparemment désorganisés et dispersés sur le couvre-lit sur le sol ou dans les airs , et les collations et les délices mélangés avec des tracts et des essais, des sentiments bien intentionnés et des rires sincères. Une conversation inspirante de signes et d'idées qui, à tout moment, fait tourner la tête au point d'avoir besoin d'un moment de repos, mais où l'on perçoit encore le doux ballottement de la digestion.</span></span></span></p>
<p><br /></p>bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-54656273466062502482022-08-02T02:15:00.005-07:002022-08-06T09:49:55.990-07:00fifteen documents and more<p>
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As for documenta fifteen,
well can't say I saw much...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDI7ps6wYo6xEKT_Kig4rTOeYIItVFxxhcCsZLLvo3NiOMPQzxHgEDhgZGWhgKijNBg_x6escIqVvsQySKzTAlFoZM0GWcGe-5Rqu2Z8DiucDXAmrHC6lKsLGn9Ku31dORMKnNMaig3Ug4rxEaVCM1keEx-rGVp607Ou3IdfuLkwdc8BjusSdjZ3A/s682/Fridrikassel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDI7ps6wYo6xEKT_Kig4rTOeYIItVFxxhcCsZLLvo3NiOMPQzxHgEDhgZGWhgKijNBg_x6escIqVvsQySKzTAlFoZM0GWcGe-5Rqu2Z8DiucDXAmrHC6lKsLGn9Ku31dORMKnNMaig3Ug4rxEaVCM1keEx-rGVp607Ou3IdfuLkwdc8BjusSdjZ3A/s320/Fridrikassel.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Empty Friedrichsplatz dead grass<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The controversy had
already taken it's toll: the head curator threw in the towel, one
artist decided to bail, press having more than one field-day... heat
wave slowed the teeming masses to a trickle... or so it seemed with
the empty Friedrichsplatz scorching in the sun... clock ticking away
time resource and meaning... the venues slightly modified in an
attempt to pull them into the public space at large – trying to
whittle away the difference between art & life – Flux-like as
seen before – as have many of the issues touched upon, but
presented differently perhaps, less top down Marxist dialectics and
more exotic (Indonesian) names for similar concepts, slightly
re-appropriated like the 'ekosistem/ecosysteem' - and yes, the
lumbung rice barn – premise is that there is a surplus to
redistribute horizontally – anyone who travels around Africa or
'global south' can see USAid, EU and UN food sacks reworked as
clothes tents and bedding – but that's colonial charity, not what
is wanted here... But one can't help comparing the offerings with the
many NGOs vying for funds for all sorts of empowering projects
worldwide – And while there are quite a few proposals on how to
kick start one's own economy, (virtually if not otherwise) most seem
content to blame historical wrongs by, well yes, the north/west... </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEierPcooXv2arM4ruNq4QHhI31Xp4ql3AIllrtt-UzHpW2_xIANIixlp6BpzUy2LEypOgAb-0awEAzARp_IrMdVIZGNdt1QyxFZ5wrjtKtxwCC1kCeej-sFhk5I8zX7fIYWLnPACVLCr6uBes2VkURHT8kAUOW4ktSpZmJPATdplr1FaehWnUeFfLId/s472/DocuHal1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="354" data-original-width="472" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEierPcooXv2arM4ruNq4QHhI31Xp4ql3AIllrtt-UzHpW2_xIANIixlp6BpzUy2LEypOgAb-0awEAzARp_IrMdVIZGNdt1QyxFZ5wrjtKtxwCC1kCeej-sFhk5I8zX7fIYWLnPACVLCr6uBes2VkURHT8kAUOW4ktSpZmJPATdplr1FaehWnUeFfLId/s320/DocuHal1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neue Halle goes south<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Archives are a good start,
documentation and contextualization – identify where things have
gone wrong and correct them... archives, like libraries need stable
environments, time to collate and consider, background knowledge to
fit into perspective... we are looking at places of study here –
call them universities, - ones that process all information, and not
just a selection – for that you need freedom, and that is where the
tensions emerge – where is what appropriate and when should an
expression be subdued?</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEied2PvEjNQFeZfd-vACDSYqS91SKW3Xl_eRSpLNK4u0tXT7Z54PTVWfrB0TZsqYzYXfFDocbKxsiRP8IZauIpX0JPpvHDFFDM6vfaQSO7pPxQ21wtDgF9NsyCqoC9Kr--gyBvaZ0XKh8ReRuMTPGNLNwotV4jlvPta-gAwMGelRrhJV7kjR1Do7iMU/s630/DocFlag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="630" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEied2PvEjNQFeZfd-vACDSYqS91SKW3Xl_eRSpLNK4u0tXT7Z54PTVWfrB0TZsqYzYXfFDocbKxsiRP8IZauIpX0JPpvHDFFDM6vfaQSO7pPxQ21wtDgF9NsyCqoC9Kr--gyBvaZ0XKh8ReRuMTPGNLNwotV4jlvPta-gAwMGelRrhJV7kjR1Do7iMU/s320/DocFlag.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">variation on 'wir sind das volk'?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">They should have left the
controversial work and had a decent discussion about its
ramifications instead of taking it down and running off – sort of
pulled the plug on the whole affair, which now looks more like an
adventure holiday with a bad conscience than a real cultural
confrontation... especially in the light of the reemergence of a
'European Theatre of Operations' with the first act 'Donbass' already
well under way and grain stuck in ships instead of lumbungs...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVVKZg68VWe0Uka_97KNJ4mL3NaYBhu9O4mE2FGf5mZcfUVtWSQtYyMmD9d19g78hOKoOPsWZCBCx9Y8cZUnyHVl1EuQaMfgDWhox2oUfxaF_V21TteE9NLWztKs8C3dKelrGFbtvBctLsSLkZ43K7m2muDE9l4ldKN6eUrjdkaL8npMtlssWWrQiD/s630/DocuEat2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVVKZg68VWe0Uka_97KNJ4mL3NaYBhu9O4mE2FGf5mZcfUVtWSQtYyMmD9d19g78hOKoOPsWZCBCx9Y8cZUnyHVl1EuQaMfgDWhox2oUfxaF_V21TteE9NLWztKs8C3dKelrGFbtvBctLsSLkZ43K7m2muDE9l4ldKN6eUrjdkaL8npMtlssWWrQiD/s320/DocuEat2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">wonder what Spoerri thinks of this<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Otherwise right down our
alley, having been busy with alternative group-run spaces and fringe
socio-cultural programs for ever so long- it has a familiar feel to
it, but perhaps victim of its own success and not made for this kind
of showcase... more preparation might have helped, but then if
organized like a real show beside the point again. </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMNTHl5zTUYzPfuqiqFfs-0Wtnal66c5XZXah5K0OSJkVFaP_9cRz9mv02Msu8ZX0imKJXbSKaZB1Qufk7Ato0RPnTrYC55baugSnHrqyC1uVoxyCK5f8HHUAQ1tasSvgMlA01cUwV48eEBswnhKsx4hHCov1ExNDLviyNCAk1aFMZAcLK99AVP9v5/s551/DocAu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="551" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMNTHl5zTUYzPfuqiqFfs-0Wtnal66c5XZXah5K0OSJkVFaP_9cRz9mv02Msu8ZX0imKJXbSKaZB1Qufk7Ato0RPnTrYC55baugSnHrqyC1uVoxyCK5f8HHUAQ1tasSvgMlA01cUwV48eEBswnhKsx4hHCov1ExNDLviyNCAk1aFMZAcLK99AVP9v5/s320/DocAu.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">quaint?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-76529493225931468832022-04-15T07:47:00.015-07:002022-04-15T09:22:08.232-07:00Rear-viewing<p>
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Rear-viewing reviews</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Being involved in a
retrospective presentation with additional collation effort and
analysis, I found that there is a general tendency in this field
which I welcome... another look at / second take on works by people
who never made much of an issue about their 'careers' and such, but
who's work and activities are up there with the best – if not even
better...
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As with icebergs, the main
body of a cultural field is below the surface and what can be seen is
just a chance corner of the whole – before it turns over and we se
another part – in the meantime we tend to forget the submerged and
see parts of it only when the turn takes place... short moments
indeed and that is why I appreciate even to most flighty glimpse...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The most amicable of these
short shows is the presentation of <i>'Patrice Verhofstad</i><span lang="nl-BE"><i>t</i></span><i>
et ses collectionneurs'</i> initiated by Dominique Thirion and
friends at the Maison de Culture Uccle, - a nice selection of work by
an artist unknown to the markets but very much appreciated by
friends, and, with some effort such as this show, might still gain a
place in the subconscious of the art scene – even if this latter is
so preoccupied with what is new and fresh it does not have much time
for the precursors of todays tendencies...
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UYm2q8hkKrRqt1Ksq_VMs4luv4cKnVVuUIBNpctuYaA5w0LMOlOKSX_ke0CQpMhNGKafsJUkdT_3LjmAVStYFlDr94kz8KGwptLALlc8NFmgBEkS896eC7Ght3E_AC8ANGbERj98f__sOUl-kbgEWqoxCP4P4-sJuc5U_d3r-Hu_2SQfHFgZqnQI/s840/PVafficheAcaUcc.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="630" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UYm2q8hkKrRqt1Ksq_VMs4luv4cKnVVuUIBNpctuYaA5w0LMOlOKSX_ke0CQpMhNGKafsJUkdT_3LjmAVStYFlDr94kz8KGwptLALlc8NFmgBEkS896eC7Ght3E_AC8ANGbERj98f__sOUl-kbgEWqoxCP4P4-sJuc5U_d3r-Hu_2SQfHFgZqnQI/w300-h400/PVafficheAcaUcc.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It is a rather unique
moment, with a lot of works not seen for ages being shown, and
probably will not be seen again for some time... a gathering of
friends as it were – hopefully there can still be a publication of
sorts to document the fact, since otherwise it is again only for
thoses that were there...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">More systematic perhaps is
the approach taken by Ronny van de Velde, now engaged more than ever
to present his collections and curiosities, away from the big
commercial presence he had for so many years – and yes, the one
that I prefer is Wout Vercammen, who as an old friend had always been
in the wings, but as Nihil impossible to show – until the very end
at least, and now again, in various contexts from the good ol days –
illustrating not only his talent but positioning of his stance in the
ever-important sixties...
</p>
<br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPqRYzkZ5Oivgfd24ivFH8nDrhDnz48zNkm3xZOSd3Fl-WDShr5caxVjWJrPLgltw_3ssHAyAxwfQsvIhSNYOgAkc-OuG_BTXiccvrtSjwyrKl_VKg7LU2S4uw38Vs35nGLMXbIXKi2imfYmoLrUVXti8iVflEZ-yIs7jUbNENXzoA_4qfn10bpLJ/s4608/WoutRoss.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="4608" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPqRYzkZ5Oivgfd24ivFH8nDrhDnz48zNkm3xZOSd3Fl-WDShr5caxVjWJrPLgltw_3ssHAyAxwfQsvIhSNYOgAkc-OuG_BTXiccvrtSjwyrKl_VKg7LU2S4uw38Vs35nGLMXbIXKi2imfYmoLrUVXti8iVflEZ-yIs7jUbNENXzoA_4qfn10bpLJ/w400-h225/WoutRoss.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Various works to be seen
in the InBox-series at the MuHKA, but also Rossaert and around
town... the beginning of a major posthumous careeer perhaps, and why
not (really fifty-fifty)...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7eCf4O8Od5Odn8pX6LxbVhER7ChlFQwagT_clmyAl8pwEVvhtGt-NfTNhPsVRjMM7c57wy7UGIgvnMtrcJkqtMR2O6fau-4hiiV9BaoG0_Q5tc2NSz9yGTPntbRO_9cmueGLLIJave40cr0IKPLy7Q6GcoqyMzfKm63D3LAT-1idoeJew7TistFo3/s787/Belgchaffe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="591" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7eCf4O8Od5Odn8pX6LxbVhER7ChlFQwagT_clmyAl8pwEVvhtGt-NfTNhPsVRjMM7c57wy7UGIgvnMtrcJkqtMR2O6fau-4hiiV9BaoG0_Q5tc2NSz9yGTPntbRO_9cmueGLLIJave40cr0IKPLy7Q6GcoqyMzfKm63D3LAT-1idoeJew7TistFo3/s320/Belgchaffe.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Even more thought out and
systematic is the presentation of collections allsorts by Eric Fabre
at his Cosmos garage – dating back a bit further but essentially
along the same thought-lines; </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>Chaosmos, la ligne
oublié </i>– inspired by the book by Marc <span lang="nl-BE">P</span>artouche,<i>
bohèmes, avant-garde et art contemporaine de 1830 a nos jours </i>–
tracing poetical, scientific and personal lines through the historic,
the live and the (nearly-) forgotten – again, an important exercise
in these times of quick-fix and superficial associations – these
being more tenuous but stronger by wit... </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-WJ36DqKF_WaOYJpEjTxLvkTfRFI-KTv0Oo4bBZdKHvoeaks4xmG0D0__maMDg0SsVHweXVrinFIAWVMCmjolbLCTjn4fZqJLX3rOJy8UQF---F4J2TDhwGDh8k_rPj9Wlpg9FPCPIMMgIL02STW9DJjn7T8e98-0pjIhtUXWrvYQbzPvhXOieb1X/s840/ligneInconA.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="630" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-WJ36DqKF_WaOYJpEjTxLvkTfRFI-KTv0Oo4bBZdKHvoeaks4xmG0D0__maMDg0SsVHweXVrinFIAWVMCmjolbLCTjn4fZqJLX3rOJy8UQF---F4J2TDhwGDh8k_rPj9Wlpg9FPCPIMMgIL02STW9DJjn7T8e98-0pjIhtUXWrvYQbzPvhXOieb1X/w300-h400/ligneInconA.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Written texts and
conferences to accompany the viewer, interaction with
live-and-kicking artists, a sumptious small gathering that gives you
brain a good work out as well as your aesthetic palate.</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="nl-BE" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">More to come (until mai
1<sup>st</sup>)</p>
<p lang="nl-BE" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-22238319848336796042022-02-05T06:45:00.007-08:002022-03-11T02:09:56.815-08:00archival sessions (again)<p> Been involved with archival sessions again, this time harking back to the fifty-fifty era...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgu9sTh2cxrgmcILsClq4a0nCopL-TN9B3dVBXs0QVPk7NqnZQIbULSDfs0MeIwP1SuRkM0tBN5Fie2JREEYQwj_mKll3ag25h4Kpea4z_riavzc-rS487NUkJLNL8Hj6Od1JHBFOyL0oIXwMk23tYZMXoi-jHptgtM9fMm1pymia6XbORenh3DTYrE=s737" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="493" data-original-width="737" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgu9sTh2cxrgmcILsClq4a0nCopL-TN9B3dVBXs0QVPk7NqnZQIbULSDfs0MeIwP1SuRkM0tBN5Fie2JREEYQwj_mKll3ag25h4Kpea4z_riavzc-rS487NUkJLNL8Hj6Od1JHBFOyL0oIXwMk23tYZMXoi-jHptgtM9fMm1pymia6XbORenh3DTYrE=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>only a few anonymous participants, homage to straatman who could not be there, painting landscapes in Mexico...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgz1IReXLOuCMUKp_lVVi0KCJZAknHUg6TXM3zt3Jpkol5FnEhiyepzQFdzwgKAliTUh-4kMzVBGXN9-QmInRRcLe2G94_j06nSHhc7sn2oMzOK874qxefKi_Jn3x8WsU_xaGeIUovd_NfCsZpSQwmJ10r8gaH1gBQJy2f0mPPdED6s6LuOnw1r7gYi=s2000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="2000" height="87" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgz1IReXLOuCMUKp_lVVi0KCJZAknHUg6TXM3zt3Jpkol5FnEhiyepzQFdzwgKAliTUh-4kMzVBGXN9-QmInRRcLe2G94_j06nSHhc7sn2oMzOK874qxefKi_Jn3x8WsU_xaGeIUovd_NfCsZpSQwmJ10r8gaH1gBQJy2f0mPPdED6s6LuOnw1r7gYi=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>(thanks to calosM)<br /></p>bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-80349854689716517102022-01-24T01:21:00.000-08:002022-01-24T01:21:24.565-08:00Anniverse l'Art<p> </p><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap="">It's Art's Birthday and I'm on the train to Antwerp
Even though there is no party tonight, we celebrate the falling of a dry sponge into the prehistoric bucket of water some 100 000 and fourty five or so years ago... Remembering too when it was noy yet again such a fad, in between fads as it were, when Dennis Anderson scheduled a AB part at his gallery around the corner, to which I was not specifically invited and which at the time I consdered a ruse of sorts, not really being a party but a staged so'ething or other... Set- piece theatre or installation, performance, happening ( to use a good ol term).. My reticence at the time might have been the basis for a refusal after being asked to host a AB meeting at the Factor 44 years later, proposed by a radio-artist and related to the ERU network of sound pieces, live, international... He was also the brother of one of my colleagues... Afterwards I was somewhet sad we didn't do it after all... But then in hindsight perhaps not...
Because,
Maybe it was due to that refusal that we didn't have to organize a party every year on the 17th, and, given the fact that they found a venue at the Museum, made it possible to be a yearly bash with all kinds of participants far more elaborate than what we might have been able to do...
(they messed up Ghent quite a bit by imposing modern buildings onto the station area, making for a heady mismatch which will wear off soon and become just plain ugly...)</pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMxDwn35BtajZBwMU-QQXubZ_o3O11BVGFRCR7XjSVZemAOxG6bAzSJ5fXt3bR7UMS1uocnS9muFSs9AyvlacGIihxoua5u1IaPG4CUbMaNutueSoyUS1-mJ-nCuo8cb-6rfGOZHfk0Uexw6apl0EvGha7nZDGS4LpzX2B33QeKGfWaE-_WO1OJdku=s427" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMxDwn35BtajZBwMU-QQXubZ_o3O11BVGFRCR7XjSVZemAOxG6bAzSJ5fXt3bR7UMS1uocnS9muFSs9AyvlacGIihxoua5u1IaPG4CUbMaNutueSoyUS1-mJ-nCuo8cb-6rfGOZHfk0Uexw6apl0EvGha7nZDGS4LpzX2B33QeKGfWaE-_WO1OJdku=s16000" /></a></div><br /> </pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""> </pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""> And
After visiting quite a few of these Art's Birthdays since, I can only say a fe of them seemed worthwhile and in the spirit of Filliou, the others being more of a showcase for young talent type of thing, which is not a problem, but I would have liked more 'cucumbrland' attitudes... And in the end with lockdown and masks and passes and all that it no longer seemed viable... Hence this discreet monday-version...
So
This is a sort of birthday outing, and reverie, dérive, whatever one might consider this small corner of the genial republic to be, etrnally, internally and externally... By way of homage I am considering not getting off at Berchem but to continue to the central station to see on the wall a pram, but also in consideration of the desription given by W.G. seebald in his book 'Austerliz'... Which so it seems is subject to a new dance-theatre production opening soon...
We shall see.
(here my old haunt from library-school days... dampoort)
I should take Seebald to hand again, it trailed off after the period of renovations-reading back in 2009, why I don't quite know... Something came up, and I put it aside with the notion to continue, but then didn't... Still the book never made it back to the shelf, and has been waiting on the 'to do' pile ever since... This is the fitting opportunity, it seems to me...
(see if we pass the small towers, maybe this train goes into the tunnel too ...)
</pre>bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-56212689377644047012021-12-29T06:31:00.000-08:002021-12-29T06:31:37.973-08:00year's end update, sort of<p>
</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I would have liked to do a
positive and upbeat report on the new horizons opened up with the
easing of restrictions, but alas, it was short-lived and somewhat
dowdy... On the one hand happy to be able to visit museums and such
again without too much ado – <span lang="nl-BE">C</span>ovid passes
are a relatively minor problem when considering the real havoc the
virus has created in many countries not so lucky to have economies
able to splurge on large amounts of vaccines for it's populace –
but even then people seem unhappy... </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Anyway, the shows that we
were able to see were okay, though I must admit I have a tendency to
like the more retrospective ones... While the idea of Eurasia at the
Antwerp Contemporary museum is not uninteresting, it is not new and
presenting a colorful collection of all and nothing does not really
give it umpf – sure – there are always interesting finds – but
much like the 'wunderkamer' of yore (and which had been discarded for
dedicated theme shows) it is just that... wonderment for those who
have never seen this or that – while for older generations there is
not much added value. One might say the same of the retrospective ICC
show, a mix and match of 'déjà-vues” but here quite the contrary
happens, reminding and augmenting already known information in a new
light and making it even more interesting than it already was...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikLbM0fPARDuim1bwuhpv0hl5Y4VdWbeJwOBgnLTeS-tkjXQC3IdmGMEqln1idSpZiIOybf9D0OQxi1w3dZHq6HdmZVJlPHBR96_N5EOeMgrtCnwYnTFuaJJPsG1QB41f6v3DgNlyl0crWjTAV97RdNRMrPccTj9qJLnnht2NDPbI7F4mqGbJPBW0s=s427" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="427" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikLbM0fPARDuim1bwuhpv0hl5Y4VdWbeJwOBgnLTeS-tkjXQC3IdmGMEqln1idSpZiIOybf9D0OQxi1w3dZHq6HdmZVJlPHBR96_N5EOeMgrtCnwYnTFuaJJPsG1QB41f6v3DgNlyl0crWjTAV97RdNRMrPccTj9qJLnnht2NDPbI7F4mqGbJPBW0s=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I enjoyed the retro-view
of Marianne Berenhaut, someone I've been watching for a while and
always appreciated the downtrodden humor depicted in the objects she
collects along the way, to bring them together in an all the more
disturbing conversation, avoiding the pathetic but reminding us of
the fragility of our so-called cultivation... That she has been
'discovered' in recent years is a very good thing, because otherwise
this important artist might have just faded into the musty folds of
history (again) and been just an anecdotal footnote perhaps in the
gallery of artist-artists... while if fact she was always more than
an also-ran... an interesting case in point which I will keep an eye
on in the future – see what happens.</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjlAJCarvzcBRXBQwIpzc8e73onLsjgnHA1JjyC7zVgCoo7vlb_D6cFt9PpSJTfl1k6ySyQjTCJO6veugWxr74D4p0GavKtWpwwqX-UPvG8Zgy7PuiZxZeQxHfwddz8bVY4zU3xLIbI0ZNAlSlRMrdblUlCRrtUBN6CdBqw8F34AmGXL6VDs2rrAlsL=s427" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="427" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjlAJCarvzcBRXBQwIpzc8e73onLsjgnHA1JjyC7zVgCoo7vlb_D6cFt9PpSJTfl1k6ySyQjTCJO6veugWxr74D4p0GavKtWpwwqX-UPvG8Zgy7PuiZxZeQxHfwddz8bVY4zU3xLIbI0ZNAlSlRMrdblUlCRrtUBN6CdBqw8F34AmGXL6VDs2rrAlsL=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">At the BPS 22 I was a bit
skeptical of the “Penultimate version of reality' by Brognon-Rollin
at first – fearing yet another collection of all-sorts which seems
to be a la mode nowadays ( ...admittedly I myself had been a great
purveyor of such shows in an alternative past but in a museum context
I expect more slice) But the fact that it is a selection by a
seasoned duo in a sort of retrospective mode rather than a
theoretical exercise makes it palpable – intriguing and to a degree
pleasant in it's depressiveness, featuring the folly of humanity as
comfy cushion. Anything but in fact, making us aware of the thin line
to disaster along the edge of every day. Maybe it is because of the
disaster unfolding outside that the disturbing presentations seem
familiar and cozy as compared with the reality unfolding outside –
one which is commented on by Alexis Dekonninck in his 'sleeping on
concrete' performance series involving a playful re-use of temporary
structures.... for me it is a bit bitter, since I thought the trees
that have now been removed in front of the museum were it's best
asset.</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgawaP8N_UixnHm6kkvWQ41Zx-IfhqYjvs9uqepkqHbM-WRutMaTQCzVRnbIVIQXVmVQe6VBcVc1gsR6gIcPUWguA1FfWFCjrwYfiJrRg7Y16cPTxNs7LrVCp54x_Cq-N9XJdDU72sK8CH_Ia5KRZguHzFZoGqtofii7zdLvuHU8qyTmu-ss5-Y-kso=s427" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgawaP8N_UixnHm6kkvWQ41Zx-IfhqYjvs9uqepkqHbM-WRutMaTQCzVRnbIVIQXVmVQe6VBcVc1gsR6gIcPUWguA1FfWFCjrwYfiJrRg7Y16cPTxNs7LrVCp54x_Cq-N9XJdDU72sK8CH_Ia5KRZguHzFZoGqtofii7zdLvuHU8qyTmu-ss5-Y-kso=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /> </p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The fourth mail-art
offering (this time Barbery & Stuckens) is interesting but
perhaps a bit less than the first three and incorporating quite a bit
of similar stuff – which is perhaps also a normal illustration of
the phenomenon mail-art, in which authorship and re-distribution tend
to favor the most active – which is why: the hard core of the
surviving scene are a bunch of people known to each other for quite
some time now... but as a reference to various<span lang="nl-BE">
(ether) media (radio, cassettes, records..) </span>and insight to the
contemporary social media phenomena it can count – good series,
hope to see more diversity in future...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJi2drlp_mf1hVK7NoYRAiw8tJ1ZKI8AGyocc309t0Dm8q4YP46XGGp3yD5UCJJXRy1YP0Gb8JECSGZZ4OYo7TC0Z4IPTuZrqNfRLGurJc3Ci4X4zJPMx81c_T7gH1k2-vALMOHVB8G3chCgJBg1M1K1OVfXUZTDPbygWaa9qUR8VuF79qaIZEfLyw=s427" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJi2drlp_mf1hVK7NoYRAiw8tJ1ZKI8AGyocc309t0Dm8q4YP46XGGp3yD5UCJJXRy1YP0Gb8JECSGZZ4OYo7TC0Z4IPTuZrqNfRLGurJc3Ci4X4zJPMx81c_T7gH1k2-vALMOHVB8G3chCgJBg1M1K1OVfXUZTDPbygWaa9qUR8VuF79qaIZEfLyw=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Also passed by the Civ<span lang="nl-BE">A</span>,
but there too, so much to see that nothing really stuck even though
there were things that attracted the attention, for a bit, but then
surpassed/exchanged for the next... the guidelines sort of tell the
story – like a switchboard scheme, interesting for those that are
looking for a specific glitch.</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFQl--HIhhIfGjLl0RzTpib5udVCLk8Vz6ANTok_T5mNGws1LIlP77B_LoP-tYkk0RTm7kWRY0OylWM-SmVa2FIasE8KcGFSz_ztdX2xZdPHsT8wOMZM8wO8mKsa61pyEh9cs-gl4S1N65yzxe1CqLglAxoyI7IvoD4PTWfrZHvl3RDL0novU89Zef=s787" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="591" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFQl--HIhhIfGjLl0RzTpib5udVCLk8Vz6ANTok_T5mNGws1LIlP77B_LoP-tYkk0RTm7kWRY0OylWM-SmVa2FIasE8KcGFSz_ztdX2xZdPHsT8wOMZM8wO8mKsa61pyEh9cs-gl4S1N65yzxe1CqLglAxoyI7IvoD4PTWfrZHvl3RDL0novU89Zef=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-29966123951494915172021-09-17T05:03:00.013-07:002021-09-18T00:24:02.803-07:00<p>
</p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Left early</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">For Paris on the fast
train straight from Antwerp to Paris Nord... Arived a bit later than
scheduled but early enough to make our first stop a boulangerie and
the a grand crème next to Sainte Eustache... From where we proceeded
by metro to the Etoile, place Charles De Gaule where they were
installing Christo's 'Arc de Triomphe, wrapped' -finally after years
of asking, pleading, wrangling... (project first proposed in 1962'
which makes it apt to this research...) and reminding me of Jiorno's
comment that " the best thing an artist can do for his career is
to die.."</p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkd3QHHL96UP-XVjftouzSNa3HZc8ehiI1NO7D1y73257-9G-U3qY6CLKKxB7TQYNavMqXpaaNffp5MtWa7JXD4bahlkpFyWTY6uo3ASUKfOpmYDYNsGnk-ySfhsZwA4GeyUtvGdFSg7I/s787/SunArcParisChr.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="787" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkd3QHHL96UP-XVjftouzSNa3HZc8ehiI1NO7D1y73257-9G-U3qY6CLKKxB7TQYNavMqXpaaNffp5MtWa7JXD4bahlkpFyWTY6uo3ASUKfOpmYDYNsGnk-ySfhsZwA4GeyUtvGdFSg7I/w429-h322/SunArcParisChr.jpg" width="429" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">But we leave that to one
side for the moment and reconsider the reason for going in the first
place... Jef Lambrecht's video of the reichstag-wrapping - I also appreciate Christo's work, beginning with Valley
Curtain, and later also the smaller works that probably inspired Jef
to package various works, often including found packages of Peter
Stuyvesant cigarettes as part of the recurring series of processes
concerning his fight with the tobacco giant. He also used packaging
methods in his performances, resulting sometimes in more-or-less
permanent sculptures, but more often than not short-lived
statements... (often making use of furniture without asking the
owner's consent, and after the exhibition they would be returned to
regular duty as chair...)</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Former BIWA co-director
Karel told me about how Jef was adament about going to Paris the meet
Christo during his wrapping of the Pont Neuf - he wanted to make some
sort of BIWA combination-piece or conversation piece, but there was
no funding and it is unclear if Jef went to Paris at the time on his
own, since Karel was not willing to pay for his own travel and
expenses... So far I have not found any specific reference to the
Pont Neuf project. (but pretty certain he went anyway...)</p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfWpr66JLrTHSZmty99ZdpA1XI8kh7Zv5dbuCMMX-gh9ddhnB97M3gPSoc11NXFfXXHBC2WsFyzxdkCDcm0j4tMoowCYyT-Cs_7LINttstFYY58cEoNFAzY5R0s85LbizQMFGHp_7hms/s577/Paris14SepChristo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="433" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfWpr66JLrTHSZmty99ZdpA1XI8kh7Zv5dbuCMMX-gh9ddhnB97M3gPSoc11NXFfXXHBC2WsFyzxdkCDcm0j4tMoowCYyT-Cs_7LINttstFYY58cEoNFAzY5R0s85LbizQMFGHp_7hms/s320/Paris14SepChristo.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">A very different story is
the wrapping of the Reichstag in Berlin. By this time BIWA as such no
longer existed and so it was an independent effort, but still related
to BIWA Ear or Earth, as far as I can remember.. ( will have to check
to ascertain if he still used the BIWA label for his presentation..)</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Jef filmed the wrapping
process with his own handycam, even though he was there in an
official capacity for the state radio ( I think) he made his own
reportage entitled "Reichstag im Negligé" which he
presented at the AK-37 in 1995....(video will be run as soon as digitized)<br /></p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I had planned to show this
video as an opener at the archive presentation in his home town
Avelgem because the hosts were also into Christo and had some works
of his on display... Why not use this coincidence... Then, when it
became clear that the Arc de Triomphe project was going to be ahead
and the video of the Berlin project would not be ready I thought I
would shoot a sequel as a sort of homage...
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Emerging from the metro it
was already quite a sight... The silvery cloth had already been
draped and for the most part already closed, except for some corners
and details and fiddly bits... Much like the situation that Jef
encountered in Berlin. ( a bit earlier, with some banners still being
let down the façade...) The light too was similar, it had just
rained and the sky was lightening up but had a similar hue and
intensity as the drapery, making for a ghostly and sometimes
difficult to discern silhouette... Again much like Jef had
encountered in Berlin...</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I found it was not that
easy to get good shots but the visuals were intriguing, and by doing
it myself could understand more fully the reasons for the slowness of
Jef's video... The work of Christo sort of forced one to slow down...
I was watching one person filming the activities through the
reflection in a puddle left behind from the rain... Many passers-by,
on foot motorcycle or car would pull over to take some pictures...
Some viewers were obviously there specifically for the theatre being
presented, and there were even some ushers provided... They were
wearing plastic capes and could easily be included in the wrapping
process...
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXwDWrquuruFvJTCrhkMObU11hs_nrO4-FhGds4pe7-9gIis9s3UKfbNFYWFVLf4hS_ezIvoKw3xgqzbk_YJ58Xx_587ETx6kCBEfdaOypLY0VVr96v_Vm8eB7Uc5b2ZETA182lr8Wjk/s427/ArcDarkParisSep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXwDWrquuruFvJTCrhkMObU11hs_nrO4-FhGds4pe7-9gIis9s3UKfbNFYWFVLf4hS_ezIvoKw3xgqzbk_YJ58Xx_587ETx6kCBEfdaOypLY0VVr96v_Vm8eB7Uc5b2ZETA182lr8Wjk/s320/ArcDarkParisSep.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Just as with Jef's video
the workers were installing the drapes by means of absailing and
cranes, ropes and dangling bits here and there making for an
interesting variation in activities, while I myself changed position,
going around the Etoile section by section, and so having a complete
360 degree roundabout view, with a shot from the middle of the Champs
d!Elysees as anchorpoint. The sun came out for a bit, enhancing the
contrast and making the piece nearly luminous... I decided to return
in the afternoon if there was a chance of direct and low sunlight,
which I imagine would be quite spectacular.</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The lanterns were also a
feature which I found important... Jef concentrated quite a few of
his shots and still photographs on the Lanterns surrounding the
Reichstag, and here too there were lanterns perfectly placed to be
incorporated in the shots. There were old style and more modern
lanterns, as well as broken and damaged ones which all had a useful
function in the process of recording the situation.
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>( so perhaps I will use
one of these images for a copycat Lanterne de Lantin, being Bombyx
Mori, as homage and information carrier... See if I might still have
a Reichstag LdL somewhere... Preferably an original sent from Berlin)</i></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaQyJZXoDIHmF6p7kbW_zIoCLvBHEuRSUm0xYmxD7sbKCCLLlzZ9hYFcvilX0y59KBMLCflpMAo-HKRCE2kExCmhGqyY39meus7IM_cbuMBuecu-FeO8cvguHQiDz_NnAvwFrh1gG-4U8/s525/ArcBrokeLantern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="394" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaQyJZXoDIHmF6p7kbW_zIoCLvBHEuRSUm0xYmxD7sbKCCLLlzZ9hYFcvilX0y59KBMLCflpMAo-HKRCE2kExCmhGqyY39meus7IM_cbuMBuecu-FeO8cvguHQiDz_NnAvwFrh1gG-4U8/s320/ArcBrokeLantern.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Of course used the
opportunity to enjoy Paris, given that the rain had stopped and there
was intermittent cloud, some rays of sun... Very agreeable weather to
do some rambling around, lunching on quiche in a park in the <i>Marée</i>,
visiting the construction site of poor Notre Dame, a sorry affair...
And a visit to the newly refurbished Samaritaine... Gleaming but not
what it used to be... At the Palais de Justice large security force,
streets blocked for the terror trial: the perpetrators of the
Bataclan massacre... Noticed in the subway older men just standing in
the corridors holding up one finger... 'There is but one...' -
Taliban grandfathers admonishing modernised Muslims to revert to
archaic teaching... I fear France has not seen the back of Islamic
radicalism just yet, perhaps it's only the beginning, seen as how the
historic centre is surrounded by banlieues...</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Dark clouds accompanied
our train as it slid out of the Gare du Nord in the evening, but it
had been a bright and agreeable day, and I was glad that I decided to
go through with the undertaking, being just in time before the
negligée was buttoned up completely... Now the official presentation
can commence, and we will see if the '<i>desnudance</i>' might be
worth another trip...</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-58714853835750224322021-08-26T07:45:00.001-07:002021-09-17T05:00:05.782-07:00Young Years<p> Gruzemayer is assisting in a retrospective / archive project in far-flung west flanders fields & towns...</p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Research
project Jef Lambrecht 'Young Years 1948 -1967'</span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZzIRSAeQWezrK06k3tKPQvR-5VsRJ_g5eiEv2L8eKPp8SPx7ZDXSmHt3Hx0Jz2BuosES-m-hAM0OPLaYSlfBYe84HIsBqpsulLazHOVBDAnPRYww-xp1cwslpD5UT2a1cRG6eWA5t0c/s1766/KaartjefprijsC2B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1766" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZzIRSAeQWezrK06k3tKPQvR-5VsRJ_g5eiEv2L8eKPp8SPx7ZDXSmHt3Hx0Jz2BuosES-m-hAM0OPLaYSlfBYe84HIsBqpsulLazHOVBDAnPRYww-xp1cwslpD5UT2a1cRG6eWA5t0c/s320/KaartjefprijsC2B.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">On
September 11</span></span></span><sup><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">th</span></span></span></sup><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">2021</span></span> <span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">it
will be five years </span></span></span><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">since</span></span> <span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">journalist,
writer & artist Jef Lambrecht left us, and </span></span></span><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">members
of</span></span><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">'Samarkand
vzw' thought it a fitting </span></span></span><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">moment</span></span> <span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">to
revisit his life & work by presenting some archival material in
his home town Avelgem, with specific attention to his 'early years'.
Sadly there is very little material left from the early years, but by
reconstruction and </span></span></span><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(local) </span></span><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">memories
quite a few references can be made to important elements in his later
artistic oeuvre... Together with </span></span></span><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">family-archive,</span></span> <span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">friends, </span></span></span><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">and
some later works an</span></span> <span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US">attempt
to sketch an impression of those early years and the lasting
influence on his artistic career, as well as his extensive travels
and journalism. His love for history and cultural diversity stems
from an early wish to surpass the boundaries of the local landscape,
but is also deeply rooted in it.</span></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Aside
from the presentation of a workbook, investigative presentations are
planned – in the former cinema 'Rubens' across from the old school,
now 'Tanghe Interiors' and the cultural community center
'Spikkerelle' are anchorpoints for ambulatory investigations around
the town... Collected material will then be added to the general
archives.</span></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">This
is to be a first edition of a series of investigations into the
backgrounds of the artist, basic chronological sections to provide an
introduction to a more general 'catalogue raisonnee' in future. The
next section being considered is 'student years, marriage & young
family' from 1968 to 1978.</span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">from
september 11<sup>th</sup> to October 24<sup>th</sup> 2021</span></span>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Spikkerelle community center and Tanghe Interiors, Kasteelstraat 8</span></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Saturdays
research-sessions at Tanghe Interiors only (11 – 17pm)</span></span></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76sDZiThvi5xHp4M6NJw32mFSXoqZzTN4RKJG6pLzlYFgc5iufdijZhyxG6tfhrH2CPBYDSHXg9PRWfVW5RIS741aVniNGH9idQTNvYJtIjsuHrdpHjdb-8nIuarGNHMyyTE24vSQ6rw/s1338/SchierSch1Bsmall.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1338" data-original-width="1299" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76sDZiThvi5xHp4M6NJw32mFSXoqZzTN4RKJG6pLzlYFgc5iufdijZhyxG6tfhrH2CPBYDSHXg9PRWfVW5RIS741aVniNGH9idQTNvYJtIjsuHrdpHjdb-8nIuarGNHMyyTE24vSQ6rw/s320/SchierSch1Bsmall.jpg" width="311" /></a></span></span></div><span face="Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span><p></p>
<p><span style="font-size: x-small;">otherwise opening hours as
per website, the work at Spikkerelle can also be seen from the
outside</span></p>
<p> </p>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-17662251009318366252021-06-19T07:00:00.012-07:002021-06-20T09:54:11.954-07:00Rhomboid Reflex<p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Rombouts Wederzijds /<span lang="en-US">
mutually reciprocal </span>
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Finally coming across a
work which speaks to me – after a long stretch of disappointments
and the notion that somewhere there is no progress to be had, and old
mistakes are constantly being refurbished to look like new ones...
well perhaps it does sort of fit this bill, but in a sympathetic
manner:</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">A mutually reciprocal
reading of Multatuli in an anatomical circus – not quite has
<i>haphazardous</i> as the encounter of an umbrella and a sewing
machine, but as '<i>azartous'</i> as one might conceive: reading the
word-pairs connected by 'and' in simultaneously opposite fashion,
across from each other as in a chess tournament, crucible theatre of
operations – in this case called 'cirque anatomique' from the time
the Ghent bourgeoisie spoke French... but very fitting. The readers
being a young actress Coltette Goossens born in Belgium on the frontier
of the twentieth century to the twenty first, and her opposite reader
Bob Latuheru, born on Ambon when it was still a Dutch colony, just
before the difficult attempts to create a free South Molukken
Republic... and ending up a refugee... In this choice the entire
history of the Dutch colonial era, the east India Company, the spice
trade, the colonial wars and horrible attitudes prevalent in Europe
concerning the well being of the indigenous peoples of the far flung
lands they occupied – succinctly illustrated by Multatuli's (semi
Latin pseudonym of the writer Eduard Dowes Dekker) “Max Havelaar”
still one of the most read and translated book in Dutch letters....</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-23xW9DVnl6gEkGb63dP0T1IstChNKQ21WRj4LZGk_zF4iIZMKVsVnnlQ7Ys7zwOFsob2BDlGDvSUjhyphenhyphen9eQ8g585u1SHm3Pu0241KkzlYRYCFnW8h8Gg626-PPnu8sjfV2obxnitgfw/s984/CirqueAnaPlaf.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="984" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-23xW9DVnl6gEkGb63dP0T1IstChNKQ21WRj4LZGk_zF4iIZMKVsVnnlQ7Ys7zwOFsob2BDlGDvSUjhyphenhyphen9eQ8g585u1SHm3Pu0241KkzlYRYCFnW8h8Gg626-PPnu8sjfV2obxnitgfw/w401-h301/CirqueAnaPlaf.jpg" width="401" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjluZrovtpDJeGptOZv1zD73HLIRnUs-Hbyx5PkdH7gC4ls7SPNnbO-GpPcLkCfvnenh1G3m5rA5EHlWdweIL4DEiXjajle4TZ4uhyphenhyphenCJO0yFY8JF60WK-_MUOPfllkEm52faHiCbGxBExI/s984/CirqueAnaLeesT.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="984" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjluZrovtpDJeGptOZv1zD73HLIRnUs-Hbyx5PkdH7gC4ls7SPNnbO-GpPcLkCfvnenh1G3m5rA5EHlWdweIL4DEiXjajle4TZ4uhyphenhyphenCJO0yFY8JF60WK-_MUOPfllkEm52faHiCbGxBExI/s320/CirqueAnaLeesT.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qeAml1kVc7kPWHs6hpXYjuchbLzboFsObUZqBrdEmdwHdEAM6dsuzvpWGv-qTGnCWS7WvDFyWdVRg_SHDgIdVM7bRkM2JFMMq1fMbkxvULEeRttLWk6022B5CHU157w_6DfFJvge8EY/s787/CirqueAlees.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="787" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qeAml1kVc7kPWHs6hpXYjuchbLzboFsObUZqBrdEmdwHdEAM6dsuzvpWGv-qTGnCWS7WvDFyWdVRg_SHDgIdVM7bRkM2JFMMq1fMbkxvULEeRttLWk6022B5CHU157w_6DfFJvge8EY/s320/CirqueAlees.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7n6WAKpepxfRWUOuX9VO3phimZQ1a1MPQoJmBn7Tb8hJX64zY4zcfMtqMxwGcHvlzoDtjgyRPOq5c8YuTv8IPHXyJq32VdjufY8ZQUkKUtLZ5DvfTfAszti8ngJp-lLpXU7qssz3y1fc/s787/GuyCirqueAnatom.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="787" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7n6WAKpepxfRWUOuX9VO3phimZQ1a1MPQoJmBn7Tb8hJX64zY4zcfMtqMxwGcHvlzoDtjgyRPOq5c8YuTv8IPHXyJq32VdjufY8ZQUkKUtLZ5DvfTfAszti8ngJp-lLpXU7qssz3y1fc/s320/GuyCirqueAnatom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So in this quiet and
concentrated performance, lasting a few hours, with visitors coming
and going – albeit quietly – there is also a high concentration
of political and cultural import not apparent on the surface –
iceberg style considerations needed to fathom the length and breadth
of this quiet gesture... For the audience the word-sets read could be
followed by a projection on the wall behind of the programme devised
by Theun de Lange, longtime collaborator of Guy Rombouts and a whiz
at finding technical and presentational solutions for the AZART
alphabet (just have a look at the azart website) – making this in
effect a quintessentially fifty-fifty work in which not only the
basic premise, '<i>wederzijds</i>' mutually reciprocal reading
performance, but collaboration and sharing, set between
theater-performance and exhibition-publication by the art-book
producers '<i>balanseer</i>' teetering as it were between here and
there, now and then, intriguing and amazing...</p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaf1r8xHWFEdiePDgcIpzyS8t_jHqcqONT5Y0XK8e0qhZY_qEFGwtbRdg8xtZti-bFYJmgKwBy5flRNZSyxeekZbpBLs_fQKJj53WMO5qj7ytE5mY53f0inN6VOhu8iQ_lIB9iD3Xi6oc/s787/RhomReflex2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="591" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaf1r8xHWFEdiePDgcIpzyS8t_jHqcqONT5Y0XK8e0qhZY_qEFGwtbRdg8xtZti-bFYJmgKwBy5flRNZSyxeekZbpBLs_fQKJj53WMO5qj7ytE5mY53f0inN6VOhu8iQ_lIB9iD3Xi6oc/s320/RhomReflex2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVTknsIA5ZAUeCLZlz5MwSlTeCUZeN055F2qivlwkmcSvqsU1DeJi9iIIECS4m0BrCYUV1i2VvsBcH_GbzT8DOPNCyJ5xhafAERfWdvWsJWDV5QM8-1RjK9nDcGLUbd8EYOeIFvKCsv8/s787/RhomReflex1.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="591" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVTknsIA5ZAUeCLZlz5MwSlTeCUZeN055F2qivlwkmcSvqsU1DeJi9iIIECS4m0BrCYUV1i2VvsBcH_GbzT8DOPNCyJ5xhafAERfWdvWsJWDV5QM8-1RjK9nDcGLUbd8EYOeIFvKCsv8/s320/RhomReflex1.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">For the exhibition space
Guy Rombouts chose some déjà-vu classics always glad to run into:
'<i>belemmering</i>' as wel as unseen <i>trouvailles</i> and
curiosities, mind twister-rebusses and rhomboid reflections... a
refreshing dip into the mental synaptics of a wayward typesetter!</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-52503744637841636732021-05-01T01:25:00.002-07:002021-05-01T01:25:13.865-07:00<p>
</p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Mayday</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Well, I have not added
anything to this blog for quite some time because I thought I would
wait until I might have something positive to say – reserving the
grumpy dissatisfaction about the running of the city for the
Dutch-language version, in which you can follow my increasing
frustration and anger in your own time.. but by now it's May and I
should say something... and as there is nothin positive to say, will
have to complain as I do on all the other platforms:</p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxNrDjuq5-zIBQ9NaFHP_IK7EXjnGtN0VvYZTPOnq8B5Sx4KbncWpXxvt6vr228sGy_eA5ZhV-OPypuJj2fpz0fMtF3cQ-Zq_z8xwCcwRsrfS94vWx1CWy4UzeRkF2qE8PElJLqJg7IkU/s787/KMSKABom2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="787" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxNrDjuq5-zIBQ9NaFHP_IK7EXjnGtN0VvYZTPOnq8B5Sx4KbncWpXxvt6vr228sGy_eA5ZhV-OPypuJj2fpz0fMtF3cQ-Zq_z8xwCcwRsrfS94vWx1CWy4UzeRkF2qE8PElJLqJg7IkU/w402-h302/KMSKABom2.jpg" width="402" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>idiotic renovations in times of climate crisis</i></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Antwerp was a red bastion
when I first arrived... it was a quaint but agreeable haven for all
sorts of colorful birds, there was a great degree of tolerance,
laissez-faire, slightly chaotic but entertaining mix of rare breeds;
disagreement existed but it was in a boisterous café-style fashion,
most of the time anyway – perhaps there was already a hard-nosed
fascist coup under way, but it was not yet obvious, seemingly a
minority fringe phenomenon that would peter out eventually...</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">That was a serious
miscalculation...
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Gone are the days when you
could run into the mayor in a café after a moustache-club meeting,
hob-nobbing with citizens, enjoying local ales among the old trees on
wobbly chairs on dancing cobblestones, as if Breughel's days were not
yet done – a sphere of hippiedom still lingering in the air,
remnant from when Antwerp was an attractive haven for experimental
everything... There was an expectation that the green movement would
be part and parcel of future politics and the social aspects of of an
expanding city would be dealt with in an sympathetic and inclusive
manner...</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">But something went amiss –
much like 'new labour' across the channel, the socialist movement
decided they had to become more liberal, and began a rather curious
metamorphosis into something that turned out to be worse than
predatory capitalism – a sort of black hole in sheep's clothing,
letting in all sorts of intolerant tendencies and becoming so full of
itself as not to have to listen to it's electoral base anymore... the
straw that broke the camels back was a pretentious and intolerant
style-yuppie mayor who would not retreat from a megalomanic project
to cover the city with a stinking flyover highway... (along with a
whole string of mismanagement and scandal-ridden incidents that sunk
the venerable movement in a quagmire of sleaze...)
</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So, if sleaze is the norm
the voters turned elsewhere, opening the door to the the
short-sighted flemish nationalism that had already been festering in
the underbelly – these also mutated after a general realignment of
politics in which all the major parties though they had to change
their identities and lost, lost their way, lost their base, lost
their credibility... even the greens who used to consider themselves
a movement 'living differently' decided to get in on the game and
become a political party, making all the compromises necessary to
gain power... which they now share as junior partners with a deflated
former social platform that calls itself 'foreskin” *and has become
all but irrelevant... (*having even dropped the term socialist and
stolen the name from the basic philosophy of the movement 'avanti'
(vooruit) – they now have lost even the most die-hard socialist
sympathisers and handcuffed themselves to a liberal coalition nobody
likes...</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">In the meantime the
flemish fascist have mutated into a saloon-party calling itself the
NVA – an alliance of themselves, with the former bullies in an
ostensibly separate party, but close enough to form a block against
the others... These have now been the largest party in these parts
for a while and have 'reorganized' the city into a showcase
village...</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Making away with local and
provincial structures the flemish government together with the NVA
mayor have torn down most of what was quaint and replaced it with a
boring euro-norm attitude that caters mainly for the mindless
commercialisation of culture, which in their minds is cold beer and
sausage rolls, surrounded by 'flemish' masters and such... in a new
designer-surrounding taken from the brochures of international
bricklayer-magazines... or rather cement-mixer digest... This great
renewal is of course expensive and the mussing-up of the local art
historical museum is many years behind schedule and way over
budget... as well as turning a perfectly agreeable park and
surroundings into a Disney-style driveway for exclusive restaurant
experiences... while removing works of contemporary art that might
stand in the way of this new enterprise... as do the trees...</p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjtDI4A6N5GWEXLzW3bwILMNMWaLhUfOjLjmGhGZjkip6vw9zznUJ3k2AzUdtS3CSUzH1ccHH1Ghpp9CKq5m8YvefdIO1rED0oxA-I4d9umJp4ljiq9ZFNNVTB5TXGg4zxaPldsprzm-U/s630/KMSKABoomen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="472" height="401" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjtDI4A6N5GWEXLzW3bwILMNMWaLhUfOjLjmGhGZjkip6vw9zznUJ3k2AzUdtS3CSUzH1ccHH1Ghpp9CKq5m8YvefdIO1rED0oxA-I4d9umJp4ljiq9ZFNNVTB5TXGg4zxaPldsprzm-U/w301-h401/KMSKABoomen.jpg" width="301" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Trees for some reason have
become a nuisance – for years now the city has been eagerly
beavering away at cutting down stately old trees that were not sick
nor dangerous because of the insatiable hunger for modern living –
trees as street furniture, which you can move around with a scroll &
mouseclick – videogame-style... the fact that trees are habitat and
part of an ecosystem that takes hears to develop doesn't really
compute... sure greenwashing trees (those little sticks left to fend
for themselves in shallow cement graves) are springing up everywhere,
but room for real nature is disappearing fast, even in the central
city park, where instead of digging out the german bunkers left over
from the war they pour even more cement into the green zone for –
yes restaurants, cafés, (same in the once leafy zoo..)
infrastructure etc... already they pumped the water out of the lake,
and announce the cutting down of old favourite trees.... where has
the time gone when the city built metal support structures for old
trees that were in danger of collapsing... (back in the 80's)</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Whittling away at the once
apparent grandeur of the remains of the golden age, only key
buildings remain as tourist attraction while the rest is replaced by
excruciatingly boring off-the-shelf design architecture, usually in
beige or shit-brown fake brick – like the provincial flat building
they just built next to the 'Steen' – oldest remnant of the city...
next up is the garden (what remains of it) of the Rubens House
Museum, which has to make way for a trinket-shopping experience by
renowned architects – the usual glass box.</p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4W5ll93kiVL0KxvnbAAxdVlvsOe5Dq63SyuVWf80-7k9RAT5IOdr42I7UhWf3QmjeG_Z8EzcA7-IsNJQst38tJutynRsDtZm1TxDquRRsPAupaIRtU_DkDoctMlW0i2dmQWQjOYTs_8/s591/UsseBomPlank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="443" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4W5ll93kiVL0KxvnbAAxdVlvsOe5Dq63SyuVWf80-7k9RAT5IOdr42I7UhWf3QmjeG_Z8EzcA7-IsNJQst38tJutynRsDtZm1TxDquRRsPAupaIRtU_DkDoctMlW0i2dmQWQjOYTs_8/w323-h430/UsseBomPlank.jpg" width="323" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>the only thing trees are good for</i></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">While politics is debating
the curbing of new construction in green zones, there has never been
as much concrete pourd into these former wildernesses as today –
lost chances to create more park space for the expanding city- it is
easier to drive a highway though a nature reserve than a suberb,
raise a tower block on fields than refurbish derelict industrial
buildings... the money stupid...</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The rare architectural
curiosity like the harbour house, retaining the old fire station and
reflecting it's maritime surroundings, was a fluke, expensive but
controversial – so the rest has to be a cheap and non-committal as
possible... while at the same time giving off prestige allusions...</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">...so much for the first
of dis-may...</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">and have not even touched
on the social... happy Mayday!</p>
<p lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-16211762368733543892020-11-07T01:44:00.001-08:002020-11-07T01:56:46.635-08:00<div style="text-align: left;"> </div><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Season kick-off, Covid-wise</span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> Insecurity was still very much in the air when September rolled in and it was not so clear what was going to happen to the season's openings... But we began with a small and sympathetic show of local talents at Watermael-Boisfort, leafy suburb and pleasant, easily distanced visit to intimate, personal works: to with Carine Van Erps, whom we have been following for some time and who refuses to follow any trends but her own heart... Often in connection with nature, and often with relatively minimal interventions and gestures... Here too she added ( or rather subtracted) from what was already there... Natural forms suggesting images, enhancing theses and laying them onto a conducive/ conductive base, literally, copper coils generating a sort of static tension... Simply effective, presented in a boite-en-valise and transportable to any site... Where the context takes over no doubt, but the work stands on it's own... A great opener I found, with positive energy...</span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgyD35RBMpJw9xCWUUKPchSVFXegewXU2qz3rlOdGzcPh9t-FNLo2Mq7dG17ORPira9k99oODz1RgeqQpA2bNUhYRuAic1SoLYyv2wzfkB6uMxHk2JzUtWtepBmE_7X-yOGmWsLnv9eQ/s320/MarcoMak.jpg" width="320" /></div></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /><br /></span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> Next up were Marc Rossignol and Marie Cloquet opening proceedings at A.Gentils Gallery... Entre deux was not only Marc's double-dexterous drawing/painting, aquarelle in this case, but also the two shows juxtaposed... Cloquet's finely shaded drawings of Aleppo soaps (halab) and the intricate colourful vibrancy of Marc's mesh-mesmerising mental tapestries, forcing the eye to oscillate between interpretations of space constantly, while at the same time being straightforward and methodical... Intricate like the text-decorations in the middle east, playing profusely with the images that are mot allowed to be shown but suggested... So too do we have to surmise where the next soap bubble might come from now the famous historic town is reduced to rubble...</span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68weK3GPVxUOuhrwbmj3-hNxjNl2OqkvrpHI20B4LZ97dPr4FHniogXZaWVa05KWqzI5qFWZXOO4iNHYgablfCWnFkozyPR9u-22VvqwbyQtfvISGt_hG82RnfnfwogB4oqOIDMaGFLY/s550/Clokett.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68weK3GPVxUOuhrwbmj3-hNxjNl2OqkvrpHI20B4LZ97dPr4FHniogXZaWVa05KWqzI5qFWZXOO4iNHYgablfCWnFkozyPR9u-22VvqwbyQtfvISGt_hG82RnfnfwogB4oqOIDMaGFLY/s320/Clokett.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> (Die badewannen von habe ich nicht gesehen) well somewhat later... Didn't manage the vernissage... But the didn't really matter... The show is a series of versions of a template from Kaldewei Badewannen, probably because it sounds exotic, but perhaps because I've ssen quite a few of things inspired by banality... Sometimes a new take can be refreshing, and the trouvaille " Kinderpncho" comes close, but does not really surpass the yuk-yuk stage and reminds one of a lazy afternoon at Fifty-Fifty... Or not even...</span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8FgH9rt0FuLyOzOcI2lmPBHK1qlQI91K-ly104x-PNWjoU_3gZjs7La65IqmfOk7zvXsVTpfooNwCeJAFHA6k0VmCV5T-F7SuCGgS69UvV6aDrLeVPF3_wsYma-gMD2GpOBCY5RdXysI/s709/BadeWa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="531" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8FgH9rt0FuLyOzOcI2lmPBHK1qlQI91K-ly104x-PNWjoU_3gZjs7La65IqmfOk7zvXsVTpfooNwCeJAFHA6k0VmCV5T-F7SuCGgS69UvV6aDrLeVPF3_wsYma-gMD2GpOBCY5RdXysI/s320/BadeWa.jpg" /></a></div><br /> Another careful emergence was a small group show at Factor 44 (yes the old name has surfaced again but it's no longer the place of yore) young talents with some commendable work, while Harry Heirmans presented a small archive offering in the front (red) room harking back to the "Qurantaine" space that was a precursor back in the mid nineties... A good combination of rear view forward striving...</span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUafJknT3VCEqpTpdjDZ-smtiv1cqz0f5y3PaXWmkrEr2sNCHbcc_N-RzctLoAvr5lvIuRwsv98CcCzo03hGkTuvzthYkTiDtqjst64yhpDhXVHBXiO4Ho2UpK2-l6MXYZfEVYyLCNIs/s640/Photo0315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUafJknT3VCEqpTpdjDZ-smtiv1cqz0f5y3PaXWmkrEr2sNCHbcc_N-RzctLoAvr5lvIuRwsv98CcCzo03hGkTuvzthYkTiDtqjst64yhpDhXVHBXiO4Ho2UpK2-l6MXYZfEVYyLCNIs/s320/Photo0315.jpg" /></a></div><br /></span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> More futuristic retrospective to be had at Knokke, with Schmalzigaug at R. Van de Velde's and Jessica Lynn Lens at the Scarpoord, but will comment on these elsewhere...(nl blog) </span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> And then of course -closer to home- the re-launch of museum operations with material from the archive I had been working on... Included in two sections: Mail Art and Monoculture... While the small archive presentation of Mail Art pieces selected from existing collections is a pleasant browse-banter, the Monoculture show is quite a marathon, covering a very wide area of recent end fairly recent issues on domination and subjectivity when it comes to cultural interpretations, the use and misuse by the powerbrokers and the reactions that go with it all... Very wide ranging and intricate but also hard to swallow in one go... So best visited more than once perhaps... Or at least that is my own first impression... Even just the small presentation of the archive fragment I have been dealing with is subject to a doctoral investigation by a student from the ULB, and is only a small corner of the archive as a whole, and that sort of fragment is repeated numerous times... Some would say ambitious, others might find it not selective enough, with not enough highlights or detailed zoom-in instances... Hard to tell...</span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTw5lkPLsC6Ixr3QzEFG_Agabj824uKXNXsuSKfZWPt7Kot2WmRgnoWtxZIXcglAHtWFFhJFXdlE61rsuNhogljqgmJd7VkVA0-SjyTtLNGo0o4eNVF5EwXYPbwiBeAvyQ6o4oiRQAUA/s667/JLinMonoCult.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="667" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTw5lkPLsC6Ixr3QzEFG_Agabj824uKXNXsuSKfZWPt7Kot2WmRgnoWtxZIXcglAHtWFFhJFXdlE61rsuNhogljqgmJd7VkVA0-SjyTtLNGo0o4eNVF5EwXYPbwiBeAvyQ6o4oiRQAUA/s320/JLinMonoCult.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVVS_yft8bWYUrwGTOX50mAZbJ0IKwc96lUQ3XXOygoolnbA5Qbv6SJYbx3bCVJEvhfv0jJH7uynEUeoU1RWsXHWpvBSkyGihRYNvYeEDyS6tS2SjZbqNPMZzAB__bf4SsbEwI7udDX4/s587/Mono.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVVS_yft8bWYUrwGTOX50mAZbJ0IKwc96lUQ3XXOygoolnbA5Qbv6SJYbx3bCVJEvhfv0jJH7uynEUeoU1RWsXHWpvBSkyGihRYNvYeEDyS6tS2SjZbqNPMZzAB__bf4SsbEwI7udDX4/s320/Mono.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEw_kNKQidNWPwWcNv-rmVP8AM7usJtL5i9sEfDgVPhbY-MtpNmxyED27Ykn1n2jmG4LDcxW29OQ7TjFRnYbcQEGg1Ct4FssM7QYJ-AXwwMGnAtZGHdJ5Of9yMPk4y1rlhfEcDIgaQfWE/s587/InstalMAjef2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEw_kNKQidNWPwWcNv-rmVP8AM7usJtL5i9sEfDgVPhbY-MtpNmxyED27Ykn1n2jmG4LDcxW29OQ7TjFRnYbcQEGg1Ct4FssM7QYJ-AXwwMGnAtZGHdJ5Of9yMPk4y1rlhfEcDIgaQfWE/s320/InstalMAjef2.jpg" /></a></div><br /> The presentation of another dear departed friend Nicole van Goethem is a well balance overview, and a breather... Simply presented in a number of tables in a decor that could have come from one of the animated films she's famous for... Upstairs an interesting presentation of artist books from the CRAP section of the academy: a very nice selection of books by Dieter Roth, one of my heroes, again juxtaposed with a young talent Rein Dufait, and up at the top a NICC presentation of CCinq/Cvijf/CFive with a subdued but fine selection of works by Kohei Yoshiyuki, Nicholas Leroy, Shigeko Kubota and Patrick Carpentier...
So, lots to see, maybe best in smaller bits, (trying is also the fact that due to Covid 19 it's gauntlet-running and time slot regulated... No cafeteria, no socializing..). Makes it more attentive and focussed, but a bit dry... Depends.. Sometimes it's not so bad to take it easy, find time, take time... In these strange times...</span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNy9zRHmgqzPDWA_-AgGYB3UIHmKTmqdjfUDLvp7jJUOu_TB7VX4gvP26l3Etd5z0OR3yKLiktp3abymDOahcVV1qkS_Y9XaYG_onJqDUIQiYqo2V_GML99DR0EHlgcBcS53tvzsY-93Y/s587/Ekatarina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="587" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNy9zRHmgqzPDWA_-AgGYB3UIHmKTmqdjfUDLvp7jJUOu_TB7VX4gvP26l3Etd5z0OR3yKLiktp3abymDOahcVV1qkS_Y9XaYG_onJqDUIQiYqo2V_GML99DR0EHlgcBcS53tvzsY-93Y/s320/Ekatarina.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> Another trouvaille was a show tucked away in Oudenaerde, per chace that i got an invite during the museum relaunch... In a beautiful art-deco house ( garage of) in the Gevaertsdreef... Ellen Pil created some intreguing combinations with relatvely simple materials, but neatly presented, surreally functional... Wooden presentationpanels, paint sprayed in part, neons, repetitions and variations re-locating the view each time... So becoming part of the refurbishment of one's own attitude... Associations which don,t quite, but then do fit, matching schemes that don't... The video of her handling a block of wood close to or on the horizon makes the point. Well.
With quite some expectations we visited Netwerk wher Laure Provoost had gathered a gaggle of friends and then combined with an associate expo in which Annick Nölle was participating... A multi-story story exhibition with rooms, nooks, crannies, basement pools and such... But somehow not quite what it could be...</span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIY9lTm31bxlHmzVJXBJDvbcS91KEYrtBYJjwEzLGvnz7iIPln-tVcmAQs2LCEc_ytnffXL3vnuedd2s6Je8lRCbG8w0RE_YvlEEf8xCzTYgZmadXlQaFBph0ZX4MxFarbI-HZ2QE3V9Q/s709/NetwerkN1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="709" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIY9lTm31bxlHmzVJXBJDvbcS91KEYrtBYJjwEzLGvnz7iIPln-tVcmAQs2LCEc_ytnffXL3vnuedd2s6Je8lRCbG8w0RE_YvlEEf8xCzTYgZmadXlQaFBph0ZX4MxFarbI-HZ2QE3V9Q/s320/NetwerkN1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> The effect of the Provoost show in the museum was not replicated... Not sure why, and in the end Annick wasn't there, being less than satisfied with the result... Which we tend to agree with... More jumble than astonishment... So that's that then...</span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwP_H2XQ7EBlk44d_g7-VgX_95R-BplQ4FLHZ1QGOFO_FVI2a3ot5K5md1KqycRQnpYeEQCgxwPzIdJcxHDAcMCE_lML896wZBHc7l1y_ABbld0pVzLC7_nijTffRI6o6Sa4XFxol1x2s/s709/NetwerkNzak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="531" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwP_H2XQ7EBlk44d_g7-VgX_95R-BplQ4FLHZ1QGOFO_FVI2a3ot5K5md1KqycRQnpYeEQCgxwPzIdJcxHDAcMCE_lML896wZBHc7l1y_ABbld0pVzLC7_nijTffRI6o6Sa4XFxol1x2s/s320/NetwerkNzak.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA0SJ5JpGgwxOxNXCEUdoLH_xUU4CcAwtbF7fdWzc5ai_oOKYlGrwudIw8h4Ee8iKagaypNMW7HT0CzoRAZ6GAZ595u5bKqoN0xce2kvcju_s3KLuDvhMSF-PXAlQ3hz3DDToLDI0IRTU/s709/NetwCine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="709" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA0SJ5JpGgwxOxNXCEUdoLH_xUU4CcAwtbF7fdWzc5ai_oOKYlGrwudIw8h4Ee8iKagaypNMW7HT0CzoRAZ6GAZ595u5bKqoN0xce2kvcju_s3KLuDvhMSF-PXAlQ3hz3DDToLDI0IRTU/s320/NetwCine.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGvOWfTwNjIQqn7T5eaTeWHPT1Zz46dLywC733GuoNq7lDQivSK3-iObBDd19PdodKU-JjMIxWegfegcDHGQia_hA3BCwCinVNCQE5f2DN4Q4yLrmC7f_ngzD9MZDIWI-JQdWGb82Hx4/s709/NetwerkD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="531" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGvOWfTwNjIQqn7T5eaTeWHPT1Zz46dLywC733GuoNq7lDQivSK3-iObBDd19PdodKU-JjMIxWegfegcDHGQia_hA3BCwCinVNCQE5f2DN4Q4yLrmC7f_ngzD9MZDIWI-JQdWGb82Hx4/s320/NetwerkD.jpg" /></a></div><br /> Just to mention honourably - (see also dutch blog) a show of recent paintings by Rufus Michielsen... Always a sight for sore eyes, a small but potent show off the beaten track at he Wilrijk Academy, part of a circuit of off-track interventions, of which Dennis Tyfus bonked the bongo on some poor sod's head in Merxem of all places!</span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></pre><pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJV03Y15oZ4zcqSTppoC-oHxhEJWaLUqqlAr0FsXQAfHT2AV1JPQ6UdSKuwkXE8ep8rkzwovNckg_0c9BlTsTtm3Phh1QlfIP-4FMK_wf7FKZ2VeTtm2ysBCtiVjZ6nEVKUr3BrIPzAqY/s709/RufusLLieve1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="709" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJV03Y15oZ4zcqSTppoC-oHxhEJWaLUqqlAr0FsXQAfHT2AV1JPQ6UdSKuwkXE8ep8rkzwovNckg_0c9BlTsTtm3Phh1QlfIP-4FMK_wf7FKZ2VeTtm2ysBCtiVjZ6nEVKUr3BrIPzAqY/s320/RufusLLieve1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4dASQ-0BaWzhKLo9iUn8RtYO-8Le-eslOaCQv-fM-NOcvLn4v1M4zXrNrDhdl61TillQGzr_oEAEitKc3GfOW8gvFQY5ToOZ2Y4UOg8_lZzOpsfZuxFHzcp_h857aN16ECz9MUXoK1E/s709/RufuRia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="709" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4dASQ-0BaWzhKLo9iUn8RtYO-8Le-eslOaCQv-fM-NOcvLn4v1M4zXrNrDhdl61TillQGzr_oEAEitKc3GfOW8gvFQY5ToOZ2Y4UOg8_lZzOpsfZuxFHzcp_h857aN16ECz9MUXoK1E/s320/RufuRia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> Was sort of geared up to become involved in various activities myself... With some amount of enthusiasm and effort... Only to be slowly shot down in stages... Restrictions rising faster than one. An keep up and resulting in yes, another lock down... Short lived season...
more soon</span></span></pre>bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-32650809543644365572020-08-11T02:29:00.000-07:002020-08-11T02:42:36.973-07:00Grande Dame PalaisTrips and travel had been reduced to a minimum since early in the year - only the most essential there and back, if even - the borders were closed for quite a while - carefree jaunts into nowhere quite out of the question… That is why this little investigative trip was such a breath of fresh (well, hot) air: it had been a while since an excursion like this:
Avoiding the main arteries we headed down due south form the border, already taking a wrong turn and semi-lost, which is exactly the way we like it… short stop at a quiet Cateau en Cambresis for a croissant and brioche, and on towards Paris along small departmental roads, stopping briefly at Guise - agreeing that this was well worth an extra trip in the future…<br />
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But the heat was on and after Laon we stayed on the N2, the old imperial road, being turned into a highway bit by bit… a pity since the agreeable meandering between shady trees and through sleepy villages has been replaced by stress-chasing on frying-pan asphalt framed by cement barriers and beating sunshine: rows of long-distance lorries that want to avoid paying Peage on the highways… in short, even the French countryside is going to the dogs…<br />
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We try not to dwell on that and enter Paris through the gauntlet of the market stalls on the boul Clichy, heading for the quieter area around the Place de Ternes - for it is around those parts we need to be: I had been sent a radio fragment by a friend with an interview about the renovation of the ‘Grand Palais’ - Chis Dercon explained how he had discovered the artist now resident in the vast hall at a small gallery in the early nineties… Frank Scurti did a small show together with François Curlet in the ‘inexistent’ hole-in-the wall place in Antwerp some thirty years earlier… a surprising little flashback I decided I wanted to investigate further… I had come across Scurti in the magazines a couple of times but had not followed his career - nor of any other acquaintance of that time… Dercon was by now a bit of a star curator and the others were not doing badly, whereas I was still doing what I had been doing then: investigating possible leads to new insights… but with a strong nostalgic twist - going for the archival rather than the brand new… So it was also logical that I wanted to see the Grand Palais before it was closed for an overhaul… Personally, I tend to dislike today’s trend to have to pimp up all the old institutions, messing up their interiors at exorbitant prices, giving them ridiculous catchy new names and turning the cultural experience into a disneyland fantasy… (our local more than adequate art history museum is still a messy construction site and financial sink-hole many years after promised completion…)<br />
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I wanted to see the Grand Palais without too much clutter before the renovations… I had never had the opportunity to see it properly - remembering an occasion where I looked up to the fantastic cupola only briefly while installing a sticky-letter sentence by Laurence Weiner during one of the Fiac’s - between stressing around… Here was an opportunity to see the garand old dame ‘in the flesh’ - and well worth it. Aside from a long string of (found) objects hanging from the central apse, the space was empty save for a scattering of ‘bureaux’ in a restricted area near the opulent staircase - giving it a theatrical feel: performance ongoing, arrested, considering… Scurti himself was not there and the activity space was quiet save for an assistent/invitee sweeping up some bits & pieces from the previous intervention… so it was a perfect moment to consider the space and what’s in it rather than being entertained by some artistic activity…
Built at the tail end of the belle époque, it’s rather manneristic art nouveau elements are nonetheless prime examples of the industrial production of wrought-ironwork - Eifel tower and bridges nearby making the era apparent - one of the las remaining ‘crystal palaces’ - and upon entering a feeling of being transported back to a copper engraving of the vast hall with small figures scattered about - quite unique, and one had the feeling the visitors too were slightly speechless… the occasional muttering of someone who could not appreciate the moment: “they couldn’t think of what to do with the place and invited an artist who doesn’t know what to do with the space… (and that with taxpayers money no doubt)” - far from it -<br />
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Scurti’s minimal intervention of bits & bobs just right to give a presence to the vast space while leaving the space itself uncluttered and free for the light-show of alternating sun & clouds and vista’s that become apparent only after moving around a bit… there was a circuit of information panels for those that wanted to brush op on the palace’s history - form grand exhibition heyday to hospital and convalescence clinic during and after the great war…
But it was the space ‘soi même’ that was on show… one could climb the cascading staircase for different vantage point of the hall as well as the intervention by Scruti: he had barricaded a part with apple-crate liners, making for a viewer-performer separation quite apt to the space - one could observe from different vantage points the goings-on (or lack of) and consider the clusters of activity-bureaus - one for woodwork, cutting panels, the other for wire and mesh studies, a beureau de chippotage and a collection of trinkets to be considered - centrally located a plinth-refurbishing area in which large pieces of décollage posters (bluebacks) were reformulated into “socles d’air” - cloudy-like patterns folded into cubical structures… and a table of exposition en cage - much like the Palais itself; caged art, arrested like colourful exotic birds for the amusement of the bourgeoisie - netting hung from the banisters denoted price ranges - the variability of value - seemingly a barometer of the current crisis - free entry with guided visits at around one euro - as opposed to the exorbitant prices demanded for regular exhibitions- this being a work i progress rather with oneself as protagonist…
What will become of the grande old dame? Hopefully the renovations are in fact restorations and the many exquisite elements are saved: the terrazzo floors, the brass bannister-railings, even the irregularities of the stucco on the walls, now catching shadows of dust, should be retained - and use of modern materials avoided altogether… but yes, given today’s penchant to ‘modernise’ everything I fear it well become a figment of it’s former self with the more spectacular elements highlighted with difficult to replace hand-made craftsmanship thrown out… perhaps here the aspect of using recuperated material is intentional; though it is well within the vocabulary of the artist - it is still a statement perhaps to not replace but re-use…<br />
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Normally Paris is pretty good a retaining original elements, but one does not have to wander far to see the onslaught of the mass-produced plastic rubbish packaged in coveted trade-marketing names on the Champs d’Elysée to realise that there are more and more generations out there that have no feeling with basic materials but for whom ‘look’ is all… and longevity a four letter word… kinky lighting and repetitive beats whipping up an ‘experience’ rather than the calm and collected consideration of silence and emptiness… so in many ways this was a unique moment to view the cavernous Grande Palais in it’s own time, no piped music, lasershow or spectacular ‘event’ - just it’s timeless self, with the humble presence of the artist as conduit: reason for coming inside an empty hall ‘with nothing to see’…<br />
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Of course we also took some time to enjoy Paris in a short touristy sort of way, and had a look around the Seine, Invalides, Tour Eifel, Arc de Triomphe and all that - of course the café crème and the croissants, the people watching from corner café at the market, the boulevards with early leaves - fall being precipitated by the extreme heat of global warming - another reminder of the fragility of it all… heading back out of the city through market stalls full of plastic wares from China, riding the waves of automobile haste back to the slightly less exasperated roads to the north, stopping this time at the wondrous mediaeval town of Laon and its cathedral perched high: by now the heat was such that one could easily mistake the moment as being in Aix-enProvenice rather than these northern climes… Phew… <br />
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bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-15939734474243868332020-05-06T06:12:00.001-07:002020-05-06T06:12:53.541-07:00suspended suspensionbeen sitting on fragments for ever so long - not quite knowing what to do with them, - every time I thought, well this is a good one for the blog it got sidelined, and then of course it all got shoved due to the corona crisis and all that ( one might think that's a perfect moment to blog- being stuck at home - but nothing further from the truth... more to do than before even...)<br />
so<br />
by way of redressing - a potpourri of impressions perhaps...<br />
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the ongoing rock seed situation... more on that laterbureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-87800607934600506342020-02-23T09:26:00.003-08:002020-02-23T09:26:34.988-08:00Yoan horizon<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Fascinating exhibition though perhaps edgy event horizon is a matter of conjecture: how is it then that the written word enters it’s new age of oscillating letters projected on prepared pages rather than heavily smudged with ink on pulped trees… and where the pages turn other images of this story or another animate the landscape only just perceived, whittling away at what you thought was stable… no thoughts are scurrying all over all the time, why not literature?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">by contrast the reductions of ball-point pen interventions in classic (penguin) paperbacked books: they become as abstract and variable in interpretation as the electronic counterpanes displayed on the other tables - and the hand painted graphics on standard Nepali licence plates, along with the typical shop sign saying just the opposite: words without meaning in that slightly festive curvature used to give a statement somewhat more flair…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Textile too becomes tactile context woven in and out the meaning of the wooly phrase provided in different colours / wove and weft combinations of two strands together… communication that can keep you warm from the sharp mountain wind, for a while at least, while you consider the meaning of the statement at hand…</span></div>
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Same with the narrative looking figures - purportedly involved in significant handlings that we are supposed to recognize or at least interpret - correctly is another matter - books become live things, creatures reinventing themselves / seemingly - but controlled by program (in this case at least… beams reading QR codes to calculate which page you’re on… still regognizable, as was Gutenberg’s wooden letter (later lead etc) at some point… but here we are at the threshold, that point of no return when the vision takes over and even the prototype becomes obsolete in the wink of an eye…<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">sweepstakes.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">all the associations still don’t make a coherent image, but relay the gist. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Invisible white noise (until moray reveals it) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">unreadable black text (until light strikes it at a angle…)</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">we must prepare our tools.</span></div>
bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-43316710895064521822019-11-29T05:34:00.001-08:002019-11-29T05:34:12.167-08:00double perfweek: Jetlag / Pipejust off the plane for an encounter with B<br />
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<b>JETLAG#2</b><br />
<br style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;">Greeted by what was going to be a volcanic eruption we arrived just in time for the JetLag#2 at the buktapaktop, an encounter of Korean and Brussels-based performers... The volcano caught fire quite a wasy down the slope and had ro be carried out into the rain to avoid the toxic fumes putting an early end to the encounter... Lucky for us the two volcanists had a reserve mini-volcano at hand which they set off for a festive beginning of procedures... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;"> i had the luck to be right at the window where the fist apparition from Seoul incanted a text I can not translate, but anyway it was garbled by the fact that the reader was being entwined as to were, so as to make coherent reading a difficult feat, in addition to darkness, rain, glaring light and then the puffed cloud of fine flour on window pane prepared with pictogram or symbol denoting one thing or another, probably explained by the illegible text and presented garbled as a means of communication quite foreign to us... Or so I thought... But it did make an impression even without explanatory context... </span><br />
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<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;">Next was a video of a performance, in which a group of smartly dressed revellers commenced to bite each other sensuously and profusely, repeatedly and serially - no sound but one could surmise the kind of groans and squeals as if one were there oneself, feeling the pain and perhaps the delight as blood was drawn... Quite a constellation if you ask me, but the spades which were lingering in the background initiated the second part in which the group proceeded to the forest to entomb themselves up to their necks in soil, earth and perhaps immobility in order not to devour each other entirely... Who knows, latter day vegetarian vampires perhaps...</span><br />
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<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;">Speaking of ritual, the next offering was quintessentially easter, with a small shrine of joss-sticks commencing proceedings in which the protagonist priest donned electronic neck dress in order to manipulate his surroundings.... We the participants were give reflective discs, and one laser beam came down straight, to be joined respectively by the next and next until four enclosed a space in cardinal terms, framed strictly but then defected by mirrors and caught by ourselves, redirected to each other and creating a visual conversation of web-like inference, in some cases a beam would be deflected numerous times across the room, in other instances shared by more than one mirror, multiplying the possibilities... This all in relatively calm and speechless enjoyment of each others company.</span><br />
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<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;">Silent was also the bird-man who stripped down to basic shorts & shirt to slowly and deliberately mount a plinth made of slats and tape, on unsteady and undulating ground, to balance slowly upward, slightly shaky but well in control, to finally stand upon his perch, extending wings for balance, moving slowly from one observation angle to the next, to then equally slowly and deliberately retire.... This all surrounded by concentrated silence... The audience was equally involved and perhaps even strained, tense to see it through without mishap.... For once bird-man dropped his perch, it broke up in its constituent parts, making obvious how fragile it was and how amazingly proficient this quiet balancing act in fact was... </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwZJlrd7M5HgvhDw1ldYnXHJxp-GiPNAEQJSMAOw2wLmvpKSPJVgEl-LlUzMSg2mpfJAA908887r7WE0D-Z3DvXPegBPtBXqwSKZ6GlUGnQNjLz-znO0nWk-B6mU7MOA75TR14KDtfkg/s1600/KoBirdA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwZJlrd7M5HgvhDw1ldYnXHJxp-GiPNAEQJSMAOw2wLmvpKSPJVgEl-LlUzMSg2mpfJAA908887r7WE0D-Z3DvXPegBPtBXqwSKZ6GlUGnQNjLz-znO0nWk-B6mU7MOA75TR14KDtfkg/s400/KoBirdA.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;">An enigmatic video of close up skin extrusions was shown, abstract and electronically manipulated to identify certain regions on interest, to whom? To what? A strange application of facial recognition technology perhaps to identify just that question... </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /> <br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;">Two dancers did a showcase intro view into a breakdance hiphopperrave suite, dressed in the obligatory jogging outfits, energetically showing their wares before launching into a more abstract and structural performance of an extremely slowed down version of a decisive move, synchronised perfectly and reversible... Like robots but human, breaking int a sweat and conversing with the audience - reminding us to keep in touch with the human rather than being fascinated by technical prowess... </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikEUjJ85CxsZDMUbJO1qcTNFmwfXfjBf9k2J4K9FPyZlfitKatie9Suckk__ZQY5AXQnhDQ8rZsWBdRhAF6aTkgYwJ6vJ9IQqdSMRzgHMtGuNafF6jHe6a0dEofLoqGF64tfCTK2SMhXk/s1600/KoGirlsD1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikEUjJ85CxsZDMUbJO1qcTNFmwfXfjBf9k2J4K9FPyZlfitKatie9Suckk__ZQY5AXQnhDQ8rZsWBdRhAF6aTkgYwJ6vJ9IQqdSMRzgHMtGuNafF6jHe6a0dEofLoqGF64tfCTK2SMhXk/s200/KoGirlsD1.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">It was a very interesting a sympathetic encounter with a certain eastern calm presiding over the whole proceeding - a restfulness we lack here in the west often...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">great stuff! many thanks to our Korean visitors!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">same week different venue:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Pipa</b></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">/Dortrecht (part 1 of 4)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; text-align: start;">This time I made it to Dortrecht, where I had promised to participate in the first night of boredom, but couldn't get my car started and was therefor a no-show, unnoticed artist... Tho my text was read at the selected site... This time I got there but went astray thinking the venue was at the ( co-) organization Lodge 222... When in fact it was in Pictura...</span></div>
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On time even, with a breathless realist to greet us all, blowing his breath into black garbage bags (or bin-liners you might call them) and adding a pellet of shit to an invisible text-fragment on the wall... His eyes were watering behind goggles, his floppy hat reminiscent of a walkabout... A huff and a puff... And the urban intervention videos in the library/barspace were intriguing... Keeping the passersby from passing by but standing still to block other possible passers to pass by... Lots of south american stuff... Interesting ones, too much to recount here, this being just a subjective passer-by's account...</div>
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In the back room a dance-duo was just winding up a paint by gun number... They would react to the public that would react by squirting their pistols laden with green ink either on the dancing targets, the prepared canvasses or the suspended pages... All beginning with virginal white but now spatterd pollock-colorfield....</div>
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In the main room a ladder protruded from a hole in the floor... Basement emmitting strange reverb-sounds while a girl diappeared down the ladder... I followed suit, coming upon an ensemble of guitares resting on their amps... Swinging along as it were... No player, no wind of funny electonics, just the presence of each others company emitting a slow sine-curve of reverb now and again, decaying before becoming feedback... Quite an achievement if you ask me... Cutting it fine just along the threshold of distortion.... </div>
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While in the next cavernous space a collector was arranging his collection of ... Well... Things similar, the significance of which did not really reveal itself to me, but which fascinated none the lass and had my sympathy even if only for the mere audacity to present these boxes of things neatly arranged in the basemen as a statement of no sort I could fathom... Perhaps there was still something that was going to happen, or associations that would become clear when all had been laid out... </div>
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I would return, I said to myself when re-emerging from the hole in the floor just as someone was taking potshots of the space... I decided to do a little walkabout myself, to feed the parking meter or rather to repark the car in a less expensive area... Passing by the breathless crocodile hunter, now having produced the outlines of a word or two with the pellets I surmised to be rabbit-doo or something more exotic... (kangaroo?) The black begs were amassing too... Filled with carbon dioxic sweat and dizziness.</div>
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out in the town my instructions said that I was to turn left if a sound came from the right, so I heard sounds as they were convenient, and enjoyed the rather quaint old town with lots of boats, which is always good in my book... By the time I got back the breathless Australian had been able to spell ... the real... what precisely I don't know and couldn't ask because he was still exhaling into the bags... The place began looking like an upside-down Duchamp... </div>
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The squirt-gun action completed it's second phase, with purple dye this time, making it more Monet and giving the shooting an air of spring, if not the right of spring, the dance being a bit relegated to the action... I would have preferred if they had forgotten about the audience even if they were taking pot-shots...</div>
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But the evening was saved by a gaggle of girls in garish costume, swimming costume, no, bodysuit like cyclists costume, of bobsled perhaps, something competitively sporty, shiny, dynamic and synthetic... There trick girls proceeded to depose copious amounts of plastic on the floor... Household plastic we all know and have come to cherish in our lazy efficiency, throw away society... They began the laborious job of sorting out the diverse types of plastic as we do when the refuse collection is imminent, or garbage truck coming to get it... Once it had all been sorted, or just before perhaps, the girls started playing with the stuff, making at first slight rustling noises as in a dense forest but getting bolder and bolder to more percussionist tendencies to end up in a kaleidoscopic lighting throwing trash and themselves about in flashes of fancy plastic sculptural instances, ending in a heaving volcano...</div>
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Resurfacing slowly they began moving the mountain of plastic waste in a sort of pincer movement with their legs, clearing the chaos while churning up a menacing mount... Sympathetically, sensuously, but inexorably towards the increasingly alarmed audience against the wall... Endin up by delving some onlookers under the barrage of poly propylene, ethylene and trichloride combination...</div>
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Party's over, time to make away with all this junk.</div>
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<br />bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-6347919428268659622019-11-24T07:00:00.000-08:002019-11-28T07:46:58.096-08:00running in Limbo<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Having not been so very convinced during the summer, decided to keep it close for the start of the season… a beautiful show of Bernd Lohaus’s work at the Schütte Foundation near Neus… though not a simple space Bernd’s work went well in this environment - the brutish cement patinated coincided with the seasoned timbers, oil-rope and bronze… the lack of a plint just the kind of thing the sculptures could use for the backdrop transition from floor to wall… the distancing was good - on had the feeling that B. himself inspired the setting up of the work, which at least for me, was a refreshing view, nostalgic in ways, but also surprising - older works holding their own with the recent ones… </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">and even the small blockworks (on woodblock floor, which at first seemed not so successful but eventually fit well…) a few drawings… more was not needed in this sumptuous space, the light filtering in different ways on different days… (went back for the catalogue presentation in completely different weather and it worked well also) Catalogue sumptuous, outside works well placed - bronzes on terrass over landscape, ‘Gelebt/Geliebt’ on the pathway leading to the pavilion… also a pleasant reunion of sorts…</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Next up a backflash of Wout Vercammen’s work at H8x12 out in the countryside - also a great initiative of Frank ‘il ventuno’ and a sympathetic combination of archive and works not seen in quite a while (in fact the ‘stress’ work was unknown to me until then… quite a bit of the zen-like period which is nice to be reminded of, and the drawings, something one sometimes forgets when confronted with the bang-boom graphics of the square meter pieces… A very nice homage, and later on finally had the chance to visit his grave, delighted to see in the meantime he has a gleaming black-yellow-and-red tombstone sepulchre… amaai…</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Did quite a bit of bopping around this time, from the ‘inattendues’ in Tournai, where I came across a nice early work by Monica Droste, to the higher floors of the Mas, where Captain Bijl and consort salute the scores of visitors from their precarious perch, right down to the serial presentations by one Wayne St… at Haeken & Ooghen where we saw some recent Klagsbrun works along with another past-participle Jef Lambrecht graphic which we had sort of forgotten… Pinky Bowtie did a wonderful small archive presentation of Roland Rom and Rudi Renson’s “RTVS” with great record release by Ultra Eczema, part of the Tyfus consortium, (see earlier blog in dutch) </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">October & we launched into the big leauge with the major Broodthaers show “Soleil Politique” at yers-true (muhka)museum… quite a effort on behalf of the whole team and family, to produce a major overview that includes a lot of never-seen material, smaller jewels and new juxtapositions - proof that there is in fact reason to continue investigating… after having seen the recent international retrospective (at Düsseldorf) I was also curious as to what could ba augmented, but was admirably surprised… well worth it, more than once… LLSpaleis kicked off with an interesting group show concerning the ‘Dulle Griet’ just back from renovations - a wild goose chase around various venues, which was sort of crazy fun admittedly… Mysterious views of an unknown object was the subject Christine Clinckx chose for her study at Eva Steynen, along with a selection of the Kruithof collection - something I am very curious about and want to investigate further… Large Marie Cloquet photo/collageworks at Annie Gentils also impressed, while the “ …des Abeilles “ at Grand Hornu seemed somewhat of a let-down after the great archive show by Fiona Tan… </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Rather intrigued by Goele De Bruyn’s contribution to a three woman show at the Garage in Mechelen, not sure if the empty showcases and embroidered bomb were part of the fire(ing)wall(s) presented in petit-point - but certainly enough to get my curiosity raised… as did Leo Coper’s series of anonymous selfies in front of a plethora of museums all over the world… flanked by two identical (true/false) bustes of the famous unknown, reminding me of Voordeckers’ installation way back in ’88 - some things are timeless, as also the white flag dragged in the video downstairs - cross referencing my mind to Cladder’s White flag project withering away from the Solitude castle (need to do something about that - waving a tiny piece of kerchief on the occasion of the 18th near Louvain, again on the way to H8x12 - this time a nice show by Christine and Dominique Rappez, mathematical playfulness combined with philosphical serieux and interchanging levels of overly, painting as print so to speak, something I myself had tried a hand at back in the litho-days…</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">ending with a fluxfest in the academy, quite a palette of interesting interpretations of classics, of which I saw only a few: concert for lots of hands and times rightoutstreached as well as a sort of watermusic drip piece… </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">November then saw us returning to the Raketenstation near Neuss, this time taking some time for some other aspects, especially the architectural, and the armistice visits and such… there was Extra City with Hermans & Menxel, and a group floor around Family (fem) Fictions and there was Lille, (Fr) where Grégoire Mott gathered some friends around for a historio-theatrical installation, using works from historical museums, his own ditty-like poetic interventions and works by friends and kindred spirits to make for a slightly askew exhibition of sorts one cannot quite pur in a category… personally I have the tendency to consider live archive, and yes, archival live art is part of it, but still does not cover the whole (or the hole, as might be…) Luc Fierens at Bleck was somewhat poorly visited, but then I just returned fro Dortrecht where the combo Pictura/Lodge 222 just kicked off a series of performance weekends which looks very promising indeed… </span><br />
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bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-33091474430585153622019-09-14T01:48:00.004-07:002019-09-14T01:48:43.901-07:00Fascinating Fiona<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">How does she do it? Presenting what in the first instance might be called long-dead and defunct archive, but imbuing it with life, interest, amazement while at the same time keep ing a stayed distance, an immobilization behind glass and screen, a moment frozen in time come alive for a bit, or even just a fleeting moment, hardly discernable…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Shadow Archive - l<i>es archives des ombres </i>- straddles the formidable distance between museum of contemporary art and <i>Mundianeum </i>- something of a curiosity in the universal order of things… or rather the chaos of life, attempting to order the impossible with a positive conviction we hardly understand nowadays… A utopian challenge to our current cynicism, a breath of musty air from a time when peace and prosperity for all humans seemed possible… a time when there was still amazement at the wonders of the world… </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">perhaps with this exhibition one can rekindle the notion that not all is lost: that artists at least, still entertain these feeling of discovery, of conviction that there is something good to be found behind the piles of investigative papers and reels of footage, reams of cartography and all sorts of recording devices, albeit digital by now… that there is a point of view to be defended, even if old, antique or just plain out of style - and these multiple views form a personality, an attitude, an understanding.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She goes back further than the specific history of Paul Otlet and the Universal Decimal Classification system, - in fact she augments with a more subjective layer in which the defunct remanants become alive: imagination, conjecture, projection, all elements of the original, to be consulted in perfectly arranges traditional viewing cases, aligned systematically as Otlet would have appreciated, but ended-up with video presenting impossible views, simultaneous synthetic subjective… Other projects, all revolving around collections, memories and the attempt to fixate fleeting times, with the ‘circular ruins’ turning us in circles of Jose Luis Borge’s story amid connecting and knotted ropes, strings to wander through… </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The two-tome approach to the catalogue is also very apt: the distinction and conversation between two approaches, with references to other works and more specific detail on some aspects dealt with, makes for interesting and agreeable reading: the otherwise dry matter of systematic classification right up to the utopian fantasy of a universal city, which as it happens was planned ‘right down our alley’ making Antwerp the centre of attention (which I’m sure would have chuffed enormously) - included even an open letter to the habitants of said city…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The exhibition at MAC’s being well worth while, the second leg is a bit of a disappointment: the Mundianeum has been over-renovated, as is often the case when authorities finally decide that something is worthwhile… Obviously there was a lot of money spent, with underground archive an ample facilities out back, but the spirit of the old musty remnant of a once great archival project has been reduced to a tid-bit funfair with lots of video and info-panels, coffee-corner and the obligatory shop taking up a large chunk of the space: as do entrance hall and ticket counter… a typical example of the “Walibification” of institutions everywhere: they have to become entertainment venues..</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Luckily we have Fiona tans wonderful synthetic version of what the Mundianemu could have once been: a huge depository of knowledge built along the lines of a Panopticum, with by now dusty and forgotten reading & writing desks, lamps askew, chairs overturned… a future vision of the past, the now already being past, exept perhaps in the mind’s eye.</span></div>
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bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-34457117502372807282019-06-16T12:12:00.002-07:002019-06-16T12:19:41.429-07:00anderlecht sortie/sort of dérive dirigé<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span lang="EN-US">The Maison des Artistes in Anderlecht is a leftover from those sumptuous days of an emerging Belgium when Brussels was all abuzz with new art and artists associations were all the vogue... A stately building with creaking floors and damaged stained glass windows form the school playground next door, once no doubt a lush garden with fountain and such... A portrait of Akarova next to the janitor’s mop reminds us of greater days... but still a very agreeable place to visit, especially since there is a wonderful exhibit of work by <b>Jérôme Giller</b> to admire: his first overview since living in Belgium.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Based mainly on a series he began a number of years back in Tourcoing, the show begins with a retrospect description of various urban walks he has organized, often in conjunction with a show or a residency project involving local youth groups and art classes, or just with local people in general, but very aware of the immediate surroundings and life on the street. Large posters represent each of these walking projects, be thay industrial such as Route de Feu or <i>Borderline</i></span><span lang="EN-US">, such as the first one following the frontier between Belgium and France... a rather surreal border, and in some ways a bit unusual... strange, far-fetched...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The map and the territory, stuck in a small mailbox by Filliou comes to mind. When watching the videos of the urban walkers negotiating the most incredible obstacles in their quest to remain as close to the theoretical border as possible, the difference becomes painfully apparent: we say we know where the borders are between things, places concepts, but in fact have little idea of it at all until we breach it or attempt to adhere to the fine dotted line as put down by surveyors and politicians....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Aside from the walks there are videos with what can be called cameo-appearance street interventions: displacing things that are in themselves already strange enough but become downright surreal when shifted. Often cued by existing situations they have a lighthearted and serendipitous nature, a tad mischievous, often surprising to the instigator himself. These collections span various cities at various points in time and have a fascinating universality about them which I would think appeals to everyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">A large video of a project done at Herstal has a mesmerizing effect: smoke rising from the coal heaps surrounding the area. After extraction the refuse coal ignites spontaneously, creating small volcano-like vents where flora and fauna of a completely different sort manage to survive, mini tropical paradises with their own sorts of insects swarming around languidly smoking crevices... quite fascinating view of what might be considered non-places where nothing happens – quite disregarded by locals who are used to it all, even though the mining of coal had ceased many years before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Wonderful drawings of frontiers, border-walks, structure of surroundings, silhouettes of things observed, elevations and notes make it all a fascinating look-read and represents well the process... the constant passage of information all sorts which only later perhaps become more significant when the lines are merged... The map with only the border and the walks around Brussels is a case in point: a seemingly banal city map becomes a pearl of an image, recognizable and abstract at the same time, with the ‘usual information’ blocked out by a thin veil of whitewash.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I have to admit I again failed to participate in the walk attached to this show- not being able to spare the time – but did attempt to catch a glimpse by hanging around the general area I though they might pass... to no avail. I will certainly make the effort to make the time next time..., which I sincerely hope, there will be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Jérôme Giller at Maison des Artistes, 14 rue du Bronze 1070 Anderlecht<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Still until<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /><span lang="EN-US">Sunday 23<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px;">rd</span></span> of June (finissage)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6132154271430128001" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="<grensVlanderlecht.jpg>" border="0" class="Apple-web-attachment" data="cid:735FB4A9-844A-49DF-B42A-A202DCD6605B@home" name="grensVlanderlecht.jpg" src="cid:B9D52C2A-F6A2-46A5-AC25-E64C80BFABF1@home" style="cursor: move; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;" type="application/x-apple-msg-attachment" /></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6132154271430128001" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6132154271430128001" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6132154271430128001" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6132154271430128001" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6132154271430128001" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6132154271430128001" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6132154271430128001" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6132154271430128001" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">picture taken bij Jérôme himself somewhere on the frontier Anderlecht....</span></i>bureau gruzemayerblogBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12512570927730574821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132154271430128001.post-13375688215447781672019-03-31T04:54:00.003-07:002019-04-21T02:18:34.946-07:00Lettersetter sundown<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A project that had been in deep sleep for many years surfaced again recently: the transposition of some typewritten texts by the late M.B. into typo-printed versions... hand-press, individually composed, lead and wooden letters... a process few people find the time to busy themselves with nowadays, and part of the reason I quit way back when... </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But now it resurfaced for a specific project, and I felt I had not really finished at the time, so I agreed to have another look at it all... even though I had recently seen the folder in which the copies of originals were kept, I could not find it and so had to rely on versions I had printed at the time. Otherwise there was also the fact that the press I used then was unavailable, as well as the lettering used, so the whole thing had to be rekindled from scratch. By chance I could make use of the material at the FMC out in the countryside, which made it a sort of pleasant outing at first... but became a bit of a drag die to the relative distance from town – I had to drive out more often than originally planned, and it all took longer than I thought, and was a bit more difficult due to some unforessen circumstances... but on the whole it was ok... at least I hope so;</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Fact is the goalposts shifted slightly, there were more prints needed, and for different venues, and at a certain point I realized I was using the wrong texts, and so the thing became a bit of a chore... which in the end I wondered if it was a good idea to get into it all again, and where it might end (it is not over yet at this juncture, I will have to report back...)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But one of the interesting things is that driving back to town in the evening is like riding into the sunset: giving the whole thing a sort of coyboy-hollywood experience, while on the radio they announce that the Lettersetter is making it’s way up north: heading our way. The Lettersetter is a local name for a bug that eats trees... somewhat like the budworm that ravages North America, it’s coming up from the Mediterranean, along with termites and such, to eat us out of house and home, and probably gobble up our archives too... It takes it’s name from the fact that it burrows under the bark in neat systematic parallel rows, much like we plow furrows in our fields, combined with a typwriter-style enthusiasm, even though I don’t think it rings a bell at every new line, or zip cogs per paragraph.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As for the project: we will have to see; a first contingent of prints was crumpled into a sort of snaky ball and hung out to dry, others fragmented in a showcase along with a few open letters... will let you know more soon...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14.6667px;">As</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> it was, we produced some classic looking pieces too, and yes, a series or suite of perhaps five better examples... I didn’t go to install the work myself and was a bit surprised to find that the suite had been massacred, leaving me with just fragments of a few examples, some of whiche then I belatedly say were even erroneous: alas again, an oversight of one R... that pesky R which registers as a trade mark in my brain... so, try as I might: failed again!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Grrr... off then to the opening and a sneak preview just before the dignitaries did their rounds... and yes, now I could see what had transpired... my co-producer cut up and mixed the texts in a playful but rather daredevil fashion, creating an installation of what was in effect but a slightly more than usual printing job... aside from cut-up and mix-match there was a banner as well as another snake, this time surrounded by gobelins and soft red velveteen in oak presentation tables with a steep incline... neo-gothic sort of flemish fantasy style... with a video of the empire mirror running on the wall behind (rather than the mirror itself which I had sort of hoped for, but I guess the insurance didn’t see it may way...)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The rest of the show was a bit of a hodge-podge with some good highlights, but the fact that it is a tourist trap rather than a study of Breugel’s surroundings, we all had a very well catered for opening walking dinner style affair, attempting to emulate the free-for-all depicted in some of his work... didn’t really get to that, the whole thing slightly more stayed than it should be...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The rest of the show was a bit of a hodge-podge with some good highlights, but the fact that it is a tourist trap rather than a study of Breugel’s surroundings, we all had a very well catered for opening walking dinner style affair, attempting to emulate the free-for-all depicted in some of his work... didn’t really get to that, the whole thing slightly more stayed than it should be...</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Rysalvy’s wine-tasting session under the tree (there is but one left) was worth it though: far from being the blow-out Breugel would have depicted, one had quizzical glances after tasting the dry polenta offered as neutralizer... to then drop away to the official tent for some decent dessert...</span></div>
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