Monday 29 August 2011
the city sleeps tonight
We walk by San Marco Square everyday before and after work, and no matter how adroitly we weave our way through the dense mass of tourists and pigeons, I am quite certain we end up appearing in one or two photographs uninvited.
There is a massive queue to enter the church at one end of the piazza, and according to some sources, that takes no less than four to five hours. Perhaps it is because I have been living here for three weeks (or knowing that I will be here for another three weeks) but i feel no sense of urgency to join in that queue to enter the most famous attraction in Venice.
"When a tourist passes through a city, the place is exposed to his gaze as something that lacks history, that is eternal, amounting to a sum of edifices that have always been there and will always remain as they are at the very moment of his arrival, for the tourist is unable to keep track of a city's historical transformation or to perceive the utopian impulse propelling the city into the future."
I'm not sure if i would end up going in, and I'm not even sure if I particularly want to. It's not that I'm discounting it as a historical monument- one with a beautiful, majestic facade at that- rather I would not want it to somehow define or complete this trip to Venice. After all, these "tourist attractions" did not exist from the beginning as attractions, it was the tourist that created them. There is a certain quiet joy to be found instead, in exploring the calles, piazzas and campos by foot and with no fixed destination, as it is by walking through these interlacing, unique streets in one of the few pedestrian-only places in the world, that one can really navigate the city. Venice is not really defined by its buildings or monuments, but like any other city, by overlapping memories created from personal experience. Thus far, I can't say that I have been through the entire place, but it has been a rather pleasurable journey. Of which, I am only halfway through.
I think I shall wander around some more.
x
sze
Tuesday 23 August 2011
Most of the fun in being at the pavilion comes from the visitors and the strange things they say. Usually, the questions are pretty easy to answer: is it free? How long is the film? Can we use the toilet? (Yes, 30 minutes, no.) It gets harder when the occasional tourist who hasn’t much time to spare asks impatiently, what’s this about? To answer the question literally makes me sound stupid (a half-naked man howls CLOOOOWWWWDDDD and appears in a bunch of apartments), but offering an artistic interpretation makes me sound like a certifiable douche (well, it’s an allusion to a fourteenth-century text about spiritual enlightenment and the discovery of God in the midst of a banal existence...). One time a girl asked me that question, to which her friend chidingly snapped, it’s an Art Film! It’s not about anything! Wish I could say that to people.
The post-film reactions have been equally entertaining. Sometimes people come downstairs and nod confusedly at us as they leave, scratching their heads. Sometimes they stay up there for hours, like a pair of English artists who watched the film six times straight. Sometimes they burst into applause at the end. Once a child ran out screaming, probably at the point when the cloud-man comes bursting into everyone’s rooms with his diapers and swirling smoke. I try my best to save other kids from this fate, telling the parents of the timid-looking ones that they might get a leeeeetle bit scared. I’m not sure whether I should be amused or horrified when Italian mothers drag their terrified sons upstairs anyway, laughing at them and calling them chickens. Tough love.
At the end of the day, it’s nice to flip through the guestbook and see what people have written. Amidst the random drawings of googly-eyed clouds and Italian phrases there are always a few gems. The best ones are those with that unmistakable tinge of Italianized English, ranging from the comical (Wow! Good night!) to the oddly philosophical (I never knew the cloud was there...but now that you say it...). Oh well. I guess good art always provokes diverse reactions.
- E-Lynn
The post-film reactions have been equally entertaining. Sometimes people come downstairs and nod confusedly at us as they leave, scratching their heads. Sometimes they stay up there for hours, like a pair of English artists who watched the film six times straight. Sometimes they burst into applause at the end. Once a child ran out screaming, probably at the point when the cloud-man comes bursting into everyone’s rooms with his diapers and swirling smoke. I try my best to save other kids from this fate, telling the parents of the timid-looking ones that they might get a leeeeetle bit scared. I’m not sure whether I should be amused or horrified when Italian mothers drag their terrified sons upstairs anyway, laughing at them and calling them chickens. Tough love.
At the end of the day, it’s nice to flip through the guestbook and see what people have written. Amidst the random drawings of googly-eyed clouds and Italian phrases there are always a few gems. The best ones are those with that unmistakable tinge of Italianized English, ranging from the comical (Wow! Good night!) to the oddly philosophical (I never knew the cloud was there...but now that you say it...). Oh well. I guess good art always provokes diverse reactions.
- E-Lynn
10th august batch of interns
Sze, Natalie (me) and E-lynn.
we've slowly been getting used to life here, memorizing our way back to the apartment, the small lanes around San Marco, found ourselves a lunch routine. at night, we cook our own meals, sink back into the couch with our laptops and prepare for the next day.
set-up in the morning consists of: turning on the computer, turning on the main switch, making sure the smoke machines are filled up with the liquid chemicals, fluff up the bean bags. we run a specific programme for test-runs, and make sure all the lights, speakers, and subs work fine. after that, we take turns sitting upstairs on the second level and downstairs, answering any question a visitor might have.
most common questions are:
do we have to pay to enter?the viewership at the Singapore Pavilion averages 150 on a good day, and sometimes i stay upstairs watching the smoke machines spit out the cloud. i like watching the reaction or response of the visitors, especially after the last screening of the day and the cloud drifts slowly in suspension towards the windows. a canadian man with his two children said, it was a spiritual experience. we get that a lot. an otherworldly exhibit, that's what we have.
but what does this ALL mean?
is there a toilet here i can use?
where is the mexican pavilion?
yesterday was our first day off together, as the previous monday was the day of an Italian Festival and the Biennale stayed open. we traveled to Verona to visit the statue of Juliet, and the balcony of 'but soft, what light through yonder window breaks' fame. Juliet's right breast has eroded fantastically through the constant clutching of tourists, 'for good luck'. it looks rather unhygienic too, so we didn't fancy a grope. after days of pasta, pizza, risotto, repeat, we finally found a Macdonalds along our way back to the train station to have nuggets and fries at. capitalization, we truly thank you.
it's been almost three weeks since we first arrived, and E-Lynn is leaving tomorrow.
Steph (Teo) will be flying in from the US to take over.
Natalie x
Friday 5 August 2011
Two Tuesdays ago involved us participating with Erin from the Welsh pavilion- for her project entitled ‘I Need You Near Me’. The first of her three performances, it explores the aspect of how one develops an attachment to people and how that attachment changes due to lifestyle, character and cultural backgrounds.
A brief write up from her own words of her performance:
These are a few of the photographs taken during the performance by Rebecca Voelcker.
Erin with a life sized photograph of Sean
Up we go onto the bridge!!
We attempt in different ways to fold Sean into her wallet
Having to dismember parts of his limbs from the image, as he was still too large to fold into
And yes! We managed to fold his limbs into the card section of her wallet and his body into the note section!! How terribly sadistic that sounds! eek!
The audience who watched us from across the bridge consisted of the interns from the Scottish, Welsh and English pavilions, they noted on how it seemed as if we were digging into the ground, as if it were a preparation of a ritual- to make a memory permanent. And for all of our individual sentiments, the personal bond that we once tied with this person was now left with us taping a memory, to fold him into a material object with the person he is closest with, and also to bind their love and our affection for him in the short period by which we all met within our stay in Venice.
Perhaps it is the ritualistic notion and semblance of digging that it flashed upon me the similarities between Erin’s work and a recent film I saw at the Museo Fortuny, though the themes dealt are polarities apart, it is an interesting note in their sparks of similarity.
Passage, 2001, by Shirin Neshat
And a bit about the artist and her work :
Shirin Neshat's visually compelling films explore the culture of Islam, especially the condition of women in that world, where they have more power than is often assumed. By questioning sexual politics, Neshat reveals something of the collective condition, its rituals, conflicts, and emotions. In Passage, a group of men carry a body wrapped in white cloth across a beach; in the distance, a group of women veiled in black chadors dig a grave with their hands, while a child arranges a circle of stones. These minimal, enigmatic scenes, set to a haunting score by Philip Glass, were filmed in the Moroccan coastal town of Essaouira. The location, where Neshat has worked before, is similar in character to the landscape of Iran: as Neshat’s work becomes better known in the West, she is increasingly uneasy about returning. But geography is almost secondary to the film. Inspired by the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, specifically the televised images of bodies held aloft during funeral processions, Passage may be Neshat’s most timely and affecting film yet.
Ciao Ciao
xxx
Steph
A brief write up from her own words of her performance:
The performance involves asking for help and handing over the responsibility of deciding which part of my loved one I will keep with me. I have chosen the wallet as an object that I consider we will always have with us. It is also a place where we keep passport sized or shrunken photographs of the ones we love. I have taken this small token of keeping a loved one close, and emphasized and exaggerated it by asking people to help me fit a life-sized photograph of my loved one into my wallet.
The groups of people I ask and the locations that the event takes place will also have an impact on how this task is approached. I am interested in seeing how other people respond, and whether or not they will be empathetic in their actions.
The first performance took place on 26th July 2011 at 7pm in a location of significance for me and my loved one. The people who I asked to help me had all met and developed a relationship with my loved one while I was away, and in turn met me while he was away.
These are a few of the photographs taken during the performance by Rebecca Voelcker.
Erin with a life sized photograph of Sean
Up we go onto the bridge!!
We attempt in different ways to fold Sean into her wallet
Having to dismember parts of his limbs from the image, as he was still too large to fold into
And yes! We managed to fold his limbs into the card section of her wallet and his body into the note section!! How terribly sadistic that sounds! eek!
The audience who watched us from across the bridge consisted of the interns from the Scottish, Welsh and English pavilions, they noted on how it seemed as if we were digging into the ground, as if it were a preparation of a ritual- to make a memory permanent. And for all of our individual sentiments, the personal bond that we once tied with this person was now left with us taping a memory, to fold him into a material object with the person he is closest with, and also to bind their love and our affection for him in the short period by which we all met within our stay in Venice.
Perhaps it is the ritualistic notion and semblance of digging that it flashed upon me the similarities between Erin’s work and a recent film I saw at the Museo Fortuny, though the themes dealt are polarities apart, it is an interesting note in their sparks of similarity.
Passage, 2001, by Shirin Neshat
And a bit about the artist and her work :
Shirin Neshat's visually compelling films explore the culture of Islam, especially the condition of women in that world, where they have more power than is often assumed. By questioning sexual politics, Neshat reveals something of the collective condition, its rituals, conflicts, and emotions. In Passage, a group of men carry a body wrapped in white cloth across a beach; in the distance, a group of women veiled in black chadors dig a grave with their hands, while a child arranges a circle of stones. These minimal, enigmatic scenes, set to a haunting score by Philip Glass, were filmed in the Moroccan coastal town of Essaouira. The location, where Neshat has worked before, is similar in character to the landscape of Iran: as Neshat’s work becomes better known in the West, she is increasingly uneasy about returning. But geography is almost secondary to the film. Inspired by the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, specifically the televised images of bodies held aloft during funeral processions, Passage may be Neshat’s most timely and affecting film yet.
Ciao Ciao
xxx
Steph
Monday 1 August 2011
Jan Švankmajer, Danish Pavilion
Likewise with Steph, I really loved Sigalit Landau representing Israel and it is one of my favourite national pavilions so far for the Biennale. Another artist that has stuck with me since I visited the Giardini two weeks ago was Jan Svankmajer’s film at the Danish Pavilion.
The title of this exhibit is Speech Matters, with eighteen artists exploring the complex notion of freedom of speech. One of the pieces exhibited in the pavilion is Jan Svankmajer’s 1968 film The Garden, a subtle political critique on the nature of communist rule in Czechoslovakia.
The short film presents a narrative on two friends Frank and Joseph. Upon reaching Joseph’s house, Frank is shocked to discover a human fence that surrounds his farm, which Joseph comically ‘unlocks’ to enter.
Joseph however is oblivious to the oddity of a human fence, and continues showing Frank around his farm and his two pet rabbits, discussing how lovely their fur is and how he prefers to raise them. Frank and Joseph have a series of seemingly normal, and at times comical conversations, which is unnerving in contrast to the human fence lurking in the background.
By the end of the short film Frank becomes one of Joseph’s victim, taking the place of an empty spot in the human fence while Joseph combs his hair... creepy!
The title of this exhibit is Speech Matters, with eighteen artists exploring the complex notion of freedom of speech. One of the pieces exhibited in the pavilion is Jan Svankmajer’s 1968 film The Garden, a subtle political critique on the nature of communist rule in Czechoslovakia.
The short film presents a narrative on two friends Frank and Joseph. Upon reaching Joseph’s house, Frank is shocked to discover a human fence that surrounds his farm, which Joseph comically ‘unlocks’ to enter.
Joseph however is oblivious to the oddity of a human fence, and continues showing Frank around his farm and his two pet rabbits, discussing how lovely their fur is and how he prefers to raise them. Frank and Joseph have a series of seemingly normal, and at times comical conversations, which is unnerving in contrast to the human fence lurking in the background.
By the end of the short film Frank becomes one of Joseph’s victim, taking the place of an empty spot in the human fence while Joseph combs his hair... creepy!
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