gerade so

gerade so
April 17th 2010

Flügellichter

Flügellichter
April 13th 2010

"Auferstehung"

Die Statue mit dem Namen Auferstehung (1933/34) von Georg Kolbe, sie, die Frau, zieht die Schultern merklich hoch. Ihr nach oben gerichteter Blick aus den weiten Augen fragt und hat er etwa Angst? Ganz leicht zieht sie auch das eine Bein an das andere Bein. Die Finger sind aneinandergelegt, die Hände leicht gekrümmt, zum Körper, dem nackten, geöffnet. Alles mutet geradeaus und gespannt. Sie weiß nicht, was kommt. Auch sowas wie Schulterzucken - "Was habe ich denn getan, dass ich hier entblößt vor dir stehe?" Vielleicht auch ein Frieren. Ein nicht wissen, was kommt. Auch eine Gelassenheit - "Ich nehme an, was kommen mag, auch wenn es mich in der Erstarrung trifft." Vielleicht sieht sie gar nicht nach oben, sondern nur der Kopf, seine Haltung, deutet diese Blickrichtung an. Eher vielleicht ist der starrende Blick auf etwas weit entfernt Stehendes, sich Befindliches, gerichtet. Ihren Blick und sich und ihre Erwartung kann sie nicht davon lösen, sie ist eine Statue. Zustand der Spannung und Kompliziertheit, in dem sie gefangen ist. Alles könnte kommen, und sie kann doch nicht reagieren, sie ist eine Statue. Selbst der ambivalent anmutende Mund könnte sich womöglich nicht zum Lächeln finden, auch wenn dies vor der Erstarrung eine Richtung schien. Vielleicht soll genau dieser Moment des "Gleich lächle ich, weil ich weiß, was kommt, und es ist gut" gehalten werden, diese Versprechung von Bewegung und Leben. Das, was auch Lächeln machen wollte.

stitching I-III

Whilst in the language of rhetoric, a little like litotes, like extenuation or retinence, a diminution consists in saying less, sure, but with a view to letting more be understood. - But letting thus - and who lets what, lets who, be understood? - one can always speak of diminution by diminution. And, by this henceforth uncatchable stitching, still let rhetoric appropriate the truth of the verdict.

Jacques Derrida
A Silkworm of One's Own (Points of view stitched on the other's veil)

stitching I - rest my heart
pins on canvas
march 2010





stitching II - nie nie nein nie nie der schein trügt nie
glass and pins on canvas
march 2010





stitching III - i act and mute the void
glass, pins and copper on canvas
april 2010

pin

pin is like icicle.
no no knot burn.
pin is like kairos.
no no not here no.
ice is not mine mine no.
kairos not pin pin no.
no no no not pin pin.
pin pin no pin pins.
pinning flesh flesh no.
pin pin pins pins no.
no.
pin pinning.
no.

icicle.
ici clé.

no.
silly.
no no no no key.
pin pin slot shutter
close close close shutter.
shutter shutter shutter shuttered.

pin pins.
or not.

das problem mit der liminalität

Die Aufgabe der Blumenleichen

Worte zerblühen sich
im provisorisch gezimmerten
Himmel.

Ein Hüttchen
unweit der Mauern
des Hauses.

Die Fenster Spiegel.

Drinnen bald nurmehr
ein Misthaufen.

Es fault und gärt
und wuchert zu.

Nebel einander,
der Worte Hauch.

Vergaste Haufen
- nicht mal Asche.

Es gibt da
- Blumenleichen.

Unzerrissene Kragen,
Schalen von
zu nackter Haut.



bild: miriam eichner - blumenleichen

cryptographies III

muecken
blink
licht aus
dunkel
passieren
blink
wieder
blink
muecken

stechen
das
licht

den
muecken
eins auf
den kopf

also
aus die
muecke

bsssssssssssttttauajadas




muecken
march 13th 2010

cryptographies II

do you
know this
haunted place

it's nothing
but a
frozen pond

oh frozen
safe with
pondering

the pond
the frozen pond
it is

so deep and
black and
cold

today
i've had
a feverhead

and slowly
melted
all away

i know we
do we do
not know



the snakes
march 12th 2010

cryptographies I

oh you are
like little
tatters of

fruit
are you
like fruit

i bite
and tear it
tears away

from you
the best
i learned



map
march 9th 2010

plaudercamp by dramazone. or: "I wish to be moved. I cannot feel in life. I must have others do it for me in theater."

saturday i went and saw plaudercamp IV by dramazone during 100° festival which in its general state of event i've ignored (bad me).
well, the set up of that durational performance was quite interesting. whereas i mainly went because it was them. turned out i stayed for about two and a half hours, and both actively participated and watched.
basically, you had to climb up to the top floor of hau 2 theatre in berlin and would be welcomed by orange edgyness and people that asked you whether you wanted to chat a bit. r. and i came together and he went "in" first. "in" was a seperate room, more specifically a tent inside that room. in that tent both performer/expert and guest sat down without shoes and jackets and talked. their talk was projected in the corridor on said top floor of hau theatre. they would explain to you a little what it was all about - collecting memories, archiving them, maybe as a counteractive impulse against mediatized rapidness and general ignorance. they would "check you in, firstly". could not exactly name my bloodtype. mmh. then performer/expert would, under the motto "es gibt ja kleine und große krisen" (there are small and big crises), share one personal crisis, for example how they hate it when their bike gets stolen, how they felt affected by the rehearsals of a biographic performance, how they missed their partner during a year abroad, how they felt overwhelmed by seeing dead people during their civil service. with the slogan "sie können uns ihre erinnerungen anvertrauen. versprochen" (you can trust us with your memories) they encouraged you to share a moment of your own crises-history. initially they also said they would try to combine or relate the two memories which wasn't always the case, which was good, maybe.
so r. sat inside, i was wrapped in a blanket in the not too hot waiting and public screening area. not so many people, which somehow was a pity. strange to see your friends being projected against a wall and hear them talk about their crises.
somehow, i found, the listening and watching was really remarkably fascinating, as if following a quite voyeuristic desire,

a bit like reality tv ("please, let him elaborate more on that threesome in the sauna and how they were interrupted by people telling them their suicidal friend was lost"),
a bit like getting to know glimpses of people ("i don't have a favourite book", "do you think he's a butcher"),
a bit like therapy (which is, indeed, problematic, as no one of dramazone is a trained psychologist)

intrigued, i was watching in on those rather private moments of (however actual or staged) mutual exchange. it felt, sitting outside, rather intimate, somehow, a somewhat guilty pleasure crawled through me when people actually looked into the camera and thereby stated their awareness of being watched from an "outside".

m. said something, actually in regards to the glasshouse, but that might be valid here, too. how can you try to create a personalized, intimate setting and situation, maybe even feeling between performer and individual audience, and then change the "usual" setting so drastically?
maybe that was not the case with plaudercamp. well, but maybe it was, in the sense that, perhaps there were people like me, who came and knew about the general idea of the project. others, more likely, browsing around the festival, maybe incidentally passing by and being approached by one of the performers/experts, maybe did not know what to expect and then would find themselves in a situation with a total stranger being suddenly exposed.

well, i can say i really enjoyed the process of watching, relating different stories and actually realizing the amount of personal history that was "collected". nobody, to give account of that, was lastingly recorded for plaudercamp IV.

ne cadant in obscurum

du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich raus bist du noch lange nich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich bist du noch lange nich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du noch lange nich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich noch lange nich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich lange nich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich nich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich nich lange du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich nich lange noch du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich nich lange noch du du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich nich lange noch du bist du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich nich lange noch du bist raus du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich raus du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich raus bist du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich raus bist du du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich raus bist du noch du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich raus bist du noch lange du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich raus bist du noch lange nich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich du ich lange lange lange du ich du raus bist du noch lange nich



i.d.
march 7th 2010

passing futures

zuhause
february 28th 2010

after 11 days in israel i am back in berlin, readjusting - no snow any longer, but piles and piles of rubbish that was covered in ice. maybe like this, or not:



the expedition
dotan&perry

basically, i went for the closing workshop encounter of a gif-funded project called poetics and politics of the future which, for the last 3 years, brought together israeli and german theatre scholars and phd students from tel aviv and berlin free university. we had some more formal discussions and talks, but also academical forms that sought to maybe enable encounters on a more personal, individual level. not hammering in on a mass of people like with conferences (or teaching, for that matter) but disseminating knowledge or variations of that through a rather uneconomical version of black market (which is not unlike speed dating, but longer). anyways, how nicely weird meeting berlin colleagues in tel aviv. for me, getting to know some of the israeli group a bit better, namely in the person of freddie rokem, was very nice and created some interesting talks and inspiring discussions about my thesis, which i am going to write in israel/palestine on forms of performing senses of self and other - on the streets and in the sheets, sort of. the initial abstract thought of focusing on street art, which seems to say only so much. interestingly, we saw a nice amount of performance art in very private spaces, homes of people, where you would think that negotiations about self and other are slightly different from discussing them in public spaces. but, we'll see. more on that a little later.

we also did a tour through tel aviv with some person from the municipality, about architecture and restauration and stuff. it was very entertaining, as you can see here:



as it was my third time in israel, being back in a foreign or strange place in some situations wasn't so strange any longer, especially with regards to language and understanding, the initial blurry bliss when encountering layers and layers of unknown or incomprehensible words was pretty diminished. which is not at all saying that i understand, not even a little, but there's hints of known, that i clutch to desperately but lose nonetheless ... this will surely be an interesting problem when encountering such situations on a day to day life (now, said that, thinking you've grasped something and losing it again, is not honestly something so very outlandish, is it). but, yes.



him with the red shirt
february 22nd 2010

one encounter that haunted me for two days was initially taking place on the harbour promenade. i sat there, read, donated money for mentally disturbed kids and just generally enjoyed being bathed in sunlight and a fine mist that was blown over from the heavily breaking waves. anyhow, there came a young kid, maybe 17, who knows, light blue jeans, red shirt, dark hair, confusion, desperation and aggression written in his face, carrying a plastic bag full of clothes. he approached me and started talking in hebrew, which i could follow at first, and sat next to me. not so long after, i was becoming more and more frustrated and repeated that i would not want to go anywhere with him, even if that meant missing out on ahava, chaver, masagim, and generally really did not understand what he was saying. he kept insisting on talking in hebrew and i felt increasingly uncomfortable when he asked if i was cold and whether he could touch my knee. so i left. and he sort of went in the same direction northwards. he went on one of the outer piers, though, lucky me, and i sat, relieved, in a café and scribbled some notes, enjoying the sun and wind, and the lively talk of two elderly men next to my table. every now and again their hebrew was interrupted by german words and phrases. well, i sat, and after a little while this guy came, again. i saw him approaching other people, too, and hoped he wouldn't see me. which was not the case, of course. so he came and i basically yelled that i did not want to do anything, nor go anywhere. he insisted and i asked the men next to me if they could maybe translate and find out what he wanted. and it turns out, for then, that he was lost (i gathered as much), somewhat mentally disturbed (see, even before meeting, i donated ...) and basically looked for an occupation, help in a general (and not sexy fun related) sense of the word. i was irritated, thanked them, he left.
well, then, the following day, watching the sun set, a northern shadow approached me, i looked up and thought "no". there he was, again. i felt angry, irritated, whatnot. he actually managed an english sentence "look for fun". as i am not generally a fun person, i declined. he left very soon after that.

what you can encounter on the street in front of dizengoff centre in tel aviv, is a man, regularly singing there. it seems strangely lost, especially this song, there, maybe the young kids don't remember. at least, most passed. maybe the addition to am israel chai with be'seret is actually a valuable assumption. in the mirroring shop windows - all one shiny surface, whereas in the flesh, everyone on their own. somehow, that is not a statement limited to israel. are we not all caught in representational threads and threats, diminishing our ability to humanly interact? or to interact at all ...



now, to art, we need strict borders, so that they can clash and dissolve, do we not. as i wrote, a lot of performances we saw, were somewhat related to ha'dira - the flat - die wohnung. yes, for example we went to see a production titled ha'dira by the arab-hebrew theatre of jaffa, performed in the flat of the set designer, if i remember correctly, of the theatre, in tel aviv. an israel-palestinian adaptation directed by michael ronen to requested program - wunschkonzert by franz xaver kroetz with sara von schwarze and salwah nakkra. the play, consisting of stage directions only, and actually written for one actress was performed in an interesting way on several levels, and i may very well quote, as i had, basically, the same thought "one flat for two women like one land for two nations ... a fascinating happening which is developing like a musical fugue ... the great merit of this original performance is that the political meaning is implied and hidden in favor of the human message" (zvi goren, "habama" site). basically, we, as an audience, shared the same space with the two performers, said flat, and were not interactively involved in any way. salwah nakkra entered the flat first and followed (i presume) the stage directions of the play, undressed, cooked some dinner ...). she was, after a short time gap of about five minutes followed in action by sara von schwarze who performed, obviously in a different interpretation (she had sushi instead of bread), the same stage directions. well, there were cats, too, impressive acting (both cats, and actresses), no interaction whatsoever, and to make a long story short, the both end up dead, obviously.



another, very interesting thing we saw, was maya zack's short film mother economy that might deal with questioning gender roles at home and work, in a basically rather enigmatic way, a beautifully filmed meditation on absences, if of nomoi, topoi, oikoi, hard to say.



maya took some of us to several adorable places afterwards (well, after a fantastic dinner in barbounia restaurant): the corridor, the riff raff and the texidermi, all being sort of rather berliny bars with gorgeous peeps and decoration. and - she took us to lital dotan's and eyal perry's the glasshouse on hashomer street number 3, where on the flat's corridor a 24 hour long performance took place. basically, what lital and eyal seem to do, is living in their art and considering their art as their living. which, as a general statement might very well be considered hippiesque nonsense. but, we beg to differ, it was really quite impressive and in a certain way innocently aware and cautious. a great sense of hospitality and openness transferred to me. well, we saw this performance, in which lital was not allowed to leave the corridor, about five meters long, one and a half maybe in width. at the end of the corridor two signs on a table said "nail me to the wall" (displaying nails and a hammer) and "make me grid" (white colour and a knife). this short video documents one of these actions.



apparently, what they also do (but you might wanna check their website which is informative in many regards) is inviting people over to share their bed with lital for a night. i thought that an intriguing idea and found the initial question of whether or not two strangers in a sort of intimate setting would change their patterns of behaviour while asleep, sort of interesting (...). so, one night, wednesday, i went to their flat at about 11 p.m. lital and i had little talk, about their project, my project, art in general, upcoming things. maybe, we were getting to know each other a little better, maybe. eyal was not present in our conversation, which i initially thought a bit strange, but okay. in the morning he explained that this not getting to know the person that sleeps over before makes it easier for him to not overreact in an emotional way when he sees them sharing the bed with his partner. so, yes, we talked, and as lital had to get up at six in the morning ("but you can sleep longer if you want"), we decided to go to bed at about half past 12. the following frame was to be: we are naked, there is no sheets for covering, there is an infrared camera above the bed that documents the whole night, eyal is going to come in every hour to change the tapes. "i have to warn you, it is not comfortable, it's very cold."
the decision to go and do it, was somehow very rationally and easily done, of course i was wondering how that would feel, but fine, no problem, with a somewhat clinical ease (or not) we took off our clothes and laid down. it was incredibly hot in the room, about 30°c and radiators on each side of the bed were directed at us. we did not talk much and basically went to sleep (...). well, that is easier said than done, really, after about half an hour i started feeling really cold, especially my feet were icy. i went to the bathroom (it's what i usually do when sleeping in other people's beds), went back, it was incredibly hot again, tried to sleep, thought, cold, again. lital was having difficulty sleeping, too, but we did not consciously interact, neither verbally nor physically; later i wondered if the initiation for a closer bodily contact is "the job" of the guest, so to speak, she did not initiate, i did not, so we both laid there, cold.
the first hour passed without a second of sleep, it sort of was very good to know that it was not going to be a too long night. though i did not feel discomfort in a strict sense of the word, i wasn't comfortable, more restless and forced to think because i couldn't sleep. well, coming back from the bathroom in the second hour (it is actually quite funny to measure your experience by the intervals in which somebody is coming into the room and changes the tapes of a camera that records you being exposed), i took off my ring because my hands were swollen and put it on the nightstand. five minutes later, due to a combination of thoughts of restlessness and the ever-present camera, i somehow wondered how weirdly familiar that might look on the pictures. as if somebody takes off their individual past and bindings to anything else that is not that specific situation. bare yourself for encountering a stranger in an intimate setting. it sort of felt, at times, quite familiar, this laying next to a stranger, thinking "what the fuck am i doing here, why am i not leaving". in fact, not unlike a one night stand situation in which you find yourself wishing to leave, but you can't, maybe there's no taxi, who knows, or you think, "well, maybe if i stay it won't feel as detached in the morning and our shared intimate encounter will lead us to a mingling of spirit, body and soul", that sort of rather irrational and hopeless patterns of behaviour that some of us might find themselves in more often than others.
well, at some point, i somehow managed to fall asleep lightly, i guess. in the morning lital got up, i dozed a while longer, thought that, in the form of this filmed documentation "there's your lonesome stranger, left behind by the one they shared a bed with" ... of course, that is not per se how i necessarily felt, but maybe i couldn't help thinking out a narrative for the camera.
well, i got up, too, eyal made me a lovely toast, we chatted a bit; apparently i was the first woman in a row of until now 12 men, who all were, in different stages during the night, sought physical contact.
a very detached intimacy. i was so cold.



the green bed and the mirror
february 20th 2010

well, there were a lot more things. but, maybe that's enough for now. i went back to jerusalem for some days, were the gates to (or of?) heaven opened, it rained and stormed and thundered for two days, tiny ways in nachlaot neighbourhood became rapid streams.

one night, i went to the western wall and left an impossibility. going back unseeing made me feel like the angel of history. my little impossibility will impalpably get lost in the heap of history.

also, i went to the synagogue for shabbat. felt very intrusive. left soon. natu was reminded of his past by the singing that was the same as in his shul. the singing made me sad. on the rainy way home, through some window, i heard "rainy days never say goodbye to desire when we are together. rainy days growing in your eyes, tell me where's my way". i was reminded of the piano.

due to the rain, or general lazyness, hila and i've watched candy by neil armfield. and i thought of doing something on being willing but as troubled as the time and the circumstance. being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the desire to halt and contemplate. or the desire for pain and pleasure. or the need to risk. or the resignation and fear that comes with it. i did all my best to smile and not be drowned in sorrow. this is the result and it is for you: