… and how could the spirit of the second day be carried forward now – bursting with intellectual and emotional energy as it was?
The answer turned out to come almost by itself, with a change of pace: from yesterday’s parallel strings of concise case studies swiftly followed by verbal exchanges of Q’s and A’s, to extended presentations creating space for a deeper listening; for resonance, outwardly and inwardly…
The first feature of Saturday’s programme, sound artist Hector MacInnes‘ Collective Listening from Echo to Interference, carried us from Berlin to the the Isle of Skye, inviting us to roam and rest within a delicately composed soundscape of voices: repeated calls for contact, interlaced with distinct impressions and reflections on records, intimacy, and distance – evoking feelings of loss and sadness, imbued with a sense of care. A tentative call for solidarity?
Above: Hector MacInnes in dialogue with the group, after the Collective Listening experience
Below: Katt Hernandez waiting to present Brinkscapes as Practice (left);
“Kungens Kurva strange utility hut”, photo credit Katt Hernandez (right)
Next, musician and composer Katt Hernandez performed a dérive in urban peripheries, cutting through notions about desolate wastelands by addressing the warehouses, shopping malls, and vast parking lots as comforting sites of everyday human presence and protective anonymity, fondly naming them brinkscapes. The rhythmical sequence of pictures, speech, and silences unfolded as if tuned to inaudible music – eventually set free to sound by the fiery and tender voice of Katt’s violin.
The journey continued as media artist, professor Paul Landon took us to Arctic landscapes in the Cold War era, where military demands employed the “perceived nothingness” of supposedly uniform expanses of dazzling snow, as the DEW (Distant Early Warning) system was erected across Alaska and Canada; a massive effort turning self-sustaining ecosystems into a backdrop for the demonstration of power and cutting-edge technology.
For the extended lunch break, Paul sent us on a mission:
– Go for a walk in the neighbourhood and look for an empty space that resonates with you; document what you find, so that you can present it to the group; stay with your chosen spot for a while, trying to perceive, understand and interpret it; from this experience, think of a public intervention to amplify, alter, celebrate or comment on its particular emptiness.
And so we did.
Two hours later, the group reassembled to share the documented emptinesses: an inaccessible yard; a snow-covered balcony; a construction pit; a beanie hat lying in the street, lost from the head it used to protect; a gap in the flow of consumer goods in a vendor machine…
Above: Prof. Paul Landon sharing pictures from his personal collection of emptinesses
Below: an emptiness captured by Caitlin McHugh
We shared photos, and more: we shared, unguardedly, our sustained attention, our awareness towards qualities and emotions, our personal renderings – stirring interest, reflections, compassion, and friendly laughter – in a flow already present yesterday, now broadening and deepening like a river.
For my own part, this workshop remains a highlight; first, spending time on my own in the midst of these intense days, and then returning, respirited, to co-create with to peers, now become friends.
Duplicity “emptiness” excursion along Grünewaldstrasse – Paulsenstrasse – Rückertstrasse – Brentanostrasse
(photos by HHW.)
A coffee break, then another workshop: Phenomenographies of Absence and Duplicity. Re-drawing Post-Communist Industrial Ruins by architect Monica Tușinean. Drawing and tracing paper rolled out all along the table, graphite pens and thick black markers distributed, instructions given…
Above: re-imagining Romanian industrial heritage sites by drawing “phenomenographic vignettes”,
workshop by Monica Tușinean
Below: Essi Nuutinen gives us monsters
The playful excitement of the drawing workshop was gently redirected into focused common attention by Tinka Harvard, serving as moderator for the programme’s last section. As eyes turned back to the projection screen and the room fell silent, Essi Nuutinen introduced us to the Icelandic finngálkn, or onocentaur; a hybrid human-animal being, signifier of inherent duplicity and vehicle for imaginative moral thinking; a creature of folklore and Christian allegories appearing in the mediaeval book known as the Physiologus. The Icelandic manuscript in itself carries a story of transformation, as it went from being a valued keeper of knowledge, to having its pages torn apart and perforated by hundreds of tiny holes – surviving the centuries repurposed to separate coarse meal from finer… a sieve. A membrane.
After moving upstairs to another venue – the DanceLab – the intertwined themes of ethos, body, and mediaeval history were continued by Lindsey Drury, in her performance lecture Bitter Gall: Dance and Colonial Nausea. History inherited as the “past-in-body-present”; the body, a receptacle torn by conflicting forces; ethos, the values and practices that sifts out the self.
From Lindsey Drury’s performance lecture Bitter Gall: Dance and Colonial Nausea
I cannot reduce this performance lecture into words; I will not even make an attempt. But it stays in my sieve, like the coarse and nutritious elements of stone-ground wholemeal – not to be disposed of, not to throw up, but to be digested over time. I will carry it with me, as a part of who I am, for times to come.
For a final vignette, I return to an engraving visible in one of the photos above: Sebald Beham’s The Peasants’ Feast (month of December). I see the woman. I see her steady gaze beholding her witless, spewing partner, while leading him forward in dance; her expression does not tell of any judgment.
Helena Hildur W. 