tracing VG

 Short excursions following the (surmised) footsteps of VG in norther France, belgium and the Netherlands... on the trail of an imaginary archive.

shortstop tri drive

 Just a short one this time - but with wide historical scope... been meaning to get around to the octagonal centre of the church at Aix-la-Chapelle (Aachen) for ever so long and this time finally made it...

of course didn't just go for the fun of it, but with purpose

intense purpose one might say

on a historical mission even - going back ages...

The seat of power – the throne of Charlemagne (supposedly) in the cathedral of Aachen was our main focus, but we did do a jaunt down to the river Rhine at Plittersdorf, just off of Bad Godesberg and one of our favorite haunts... High waters, but not enough to swamp the place as it did a few years ago...

 

Back via Aix-la-Chapelle, where many years gon we did various interventions at the 'Gelateria del Anno' by artist friend AVS back in 1991, among which was a performance by JL about the Throne of Charlemagne – a model for the holy see and itself a version of Solomons throne – and the most important seat of the holy roman empire and the whole notion of a unified Europe... so, gotta see, no?

 

 

We nearly missed it because we didn't know it was in a limited access area, but managed to get tickets for the last group ascending... even though it was a holiday and lots of people, but also one of the few occasions they actually light the 'Jerusalem chandelier' – so that was an additional tid-bit.

The throne itself simplistically majestic, even modernist- just tome old slabs held together by rusty crampons, but in a sumptuous surrounding breathing byzantine opulence... all a bit 19^th century fake-ism, but none the less... as said, seat of power for ever so long (lots of Otto's!) and also site of historical machinations and source of much conjecture- for instance the shenanigans of Fredrick, who re-wrote most of the history to fit his own vision...

In the meantime Frederick was focused on restoring peace in the Rhineland, where he organized a magnificent celebration of the canonization of Charlemagne at Aachen, under the authority of the antipope Paschal III.(not much later deposed) – all in all a coup de théatre which shaped much of our history, and as such one of the great misrepresentations of who we are...

that being the theme of my current exhibition project and research focus... more about that later.

 

The most interesting things are the most enigmatic – this pineapple-head being one – they don't seem to know too much about it... letting it's own sculptural quality speak for itself.

 

us-theatrics

 

B.A.G in the American Embassy (ex) The Hague

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.

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...

 

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...

...all things (come to) pass,

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)

 

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!

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...

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.

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!

 

Watercooler abandoned by US personel in the former embassy...

slight surprise

 

Quelle belle Surprise

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...

 

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...

 

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^rd 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.

(online now and then map (interactive)
 

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... 

(kalanag kist nr. 85 )

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 'soixcent huit' – a pavée 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...

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...

 

 

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).

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...

triangulation second part

 


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:


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...


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) 

 So Whence where we? 

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? 

 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?

 

 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?

Picture of Rossignols corner invitation on the 11th 

travel (triangulation?)

 

Travels with René 

           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.  

Then again, 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... (not quite Bébèrt)

 

  First stop was the cemetery at Bad Godesberg...

 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.  

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.  

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. 

 

 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..  

But alls well that ends well... 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^th SFG bat1) had a heliport (Baker AAF) there in the 70s) As it was, we returned via that route...)  

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.. 

 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.  

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 Borinageuse report... 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.

  (map) not territory  (rott/ach  Ring / ler)

 

Excursion grand Hornu Straat(wo)man symposium

 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...

 

 

(view of Straatman during the Opera preparations at the W139 in Amsterdam 2002...)

... 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 'Laetitia directé mala non est. Tristitia autem contrà directè est mala' 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 ...alegria! The idea that there might be too much glee as foreign to us as it was to Baruch... Aided by a sip of 'Pineau de Charentes' 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^nd for his 44^th' to the first 'intercontinentaal entrepot' at Kassel during documenta IX to lay the foundations of a new unitary 'Belgian People's Party' (Belgische Volkspartei, Belgische Volkspartij, Parti Populaire Belge) under the flag of 'Black, Brown and Beige'...

 

 

(invite for the kleine Löwenkonferenz 22 for 44, Kassel 1992)

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 not (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 Borinage (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...

 

(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)

We had failed to secure safe passage for everyone and anyone with the museum administration, so decided to issue 'Laissez Passers' 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...

(more on that later...)

(arrival photo C Radulescu)
 

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^rd and 4^th 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)...

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...

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. 

 

( Tolmacheff, Mott and Montalvo coulnd't resist turning this solemn moment into a Marxist scene.. photo C Radulescu.)

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 Maestro Pintor himself who was stigmatized by the museum's designer balustrade... Ouch!

(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.)

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...

(straatman projection inexistent 1989)

 (amalgamated super-8 strips looped into an ongoing movie nostalgia)

 

(straat(wo) menphoto in front of 'Pintor' projection   - Maria Degrève)

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.

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...

(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)

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...

(in the crypt inexistent graves, the actual bodies are inhumed elsewhere)

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?)

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...

 

(from left to right in no order )

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...

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 Efficiendi est Ambitio III 31s) 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...

(wiki describes it thus; 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: Each thing insofar as it is in itself, endeavours to persevere in its being.)

...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...

 

(magic moment in the correography as manu t. atempts a solo  - photo by Annick Nölle)

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 craie de Chamapgne 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... 

 

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...

 

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!

….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 cricus maximus of an arena.... to round off I offer you a portrait of Straatman (brandishing pastels) and his monumental effigy.... long live Straatman!