Banks and Lenders

This is my student's final project from the Theatre Events and Audiences module I developed and implemented at Buckinghampshire New University

Conference Presentation - Napoli Scorticata

As part of the Italian Theatre Season's Conference on Modern and Contemporary Italian Theatre, I will be presenting the performance project Napoli Scorticata, developed with Lotos Collective in Naples, Italy in 2007.

Thousands of Teenagers to Flood Sleaford in New Art Work

SLEAFORD.- A youth mob composed of thousands of teenagers is due to descend upon the rural Lincolnshire town of Sleaford as part of a new art work by artist Kelly Large.
Kelly Large has been working on this project entitled 'Our Name is Legion' since she was commissioned in 2008 by Beacon Art Project to work as artist in residence at Kesteven and Sleaford High School. The initial idea came about when she observed the routine journeys and daily fluctuation in the volume of people moving through the town.

Source: Art Daily

Finally Fabiola arrives in London

Francis Alÿs: Fabiola

2 May - 27 September 2009
Room 41
Free
National Portrait Gallery





See my very own Fabiola

One in 8 Million

This is a biographical series from the New York Times about everyday people in the Big Apple. Its absolutely poetic and reinforces the notion that the true makers of culture and society are the unsung heroes that join us in the machine.
1-in-8-Million

A crowned Rat King

A circle of rats with tails intertwined pulling out to form a circle... There is a certainly metaphor here for our own interrelated condition and how inevitably we are all inexorably inextricable no matter what direction we may be pulling....

G20 Bank Protest - April Fools Day

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Another example of the incredible difference between the mediatised image, the reality of a situation, and the uses of power within how we operate (see Inauguration entry for example). I cycled over to the event at Bank, which was coined as a carnival atmosphere by its adhoc organisers, and it was. There was a variety of games, costumes, live and prerecorded music, and a very diverse age range. The police practiced what the call 'kettling' keeping people penned up in sections. It was very mellow, there wasn't much chanting or slogan yelling, just a lot of standing around in what was arguably the most beautiful day of the year so far. We wanted to get into Bank but it was impossible, all cordoned off by walls of police in high-vis gear. They were generally at this point good natured, joking with the crowds, who were at most pretty bored outside trying to get into where the music seemed to be. One protester offered to take them to get a cup of coffee, as it seemed rather pointless to stand around... We walked around the perimeters, through side streets and followed a marching troop of horso-cops prepared for serious battle. People were not happy at the sight of this, as it brought a feeling of menace and violence to an otherwise chill afternoon... We passed Jesus on the way and ended up past the horses and police and by RBS, the now infamous smashed bank windows. I suppose the link of police opened up for the horso-cops to take their place and we inadvertently walked past. Shortly after a group of young anarchists began smashing the bank. It seemed so timely, it all felt very rehearsed. As the police presence became more heightened the kids got angrier and responded in turn. As they smashed the windows, an incredible amount of cameras flew out, both handheld, professional, phones. I was really taken by how mediatised the event was, and the desperate need to capture the moment seemed more violent than the window smashing. The cops stood idly by on their horses, letting it happen...
Watch the video I uploaded, its celebratory, most people standing around watching the event unfold like a football match. Can you spot the difference between media and reality?(beware of close-ups!) Lets just assess who is breaking, who is capturing the breaking and who is watching the capturing and the breaking, look at the gap of people between the police and the action.... We left the scene and wandered about, but there was no exit in sight, I wondered why not let people leave, it was so obviously quite on the side streets. Fear, fear, fear.... But we were able to get out on one street that was open, and wandered off to Trafalgar Square to a peaceful demonstration with intelligent speakers and well timed hooting. I found both scenarios emotionally effective in their purpose I suppose, what other options are most people left with if they cannot influence public policy otherwise? Was I a participant or just another voyeur, like perhaps you are now if you watch this clip

San Fabiola

Acquired this needlepoint of San Fabiola, a piece of the puzzle in Francis Alÿs' investigation into the myth of this image. Over the last two decades he's collected hundreds of these...

Reference Link




Provenance: Brick Lane Backyard Market, July 2008, £25
Notes: Corresponds closely in dimensions to Alÿs collection lot 170

Ensemble of Interstices

I'm currently researching micro-stories and place-making for the Beirut project this summer. I think this poem is a great metaphor for using those important elements in-between the everyday that may actually be holding us together:

The Picket Fence

One time there was a picket fence
with space to gaze from hence to thence.

An architect who saw this sight
approached it suddenly one night,

removed the spaces from the fence,
and built of them a residence.

The picket fence stood there dumbfounded
with pickets wholly unsurrounded,

a view so loathsome and obscene,
the Senate had to intervene.

The architect, however, flew
to Afri- or Americoo.

by
Christian Morgenstern
English translation by Max Knight
Original version:
Der Lattenzaun

Es war einmal ein Lattenzaun,
mit Zwischenraum, hindurchzuschaun.

Ein Architekt, der dieses sah,
stand eines Abends plötzlich da -

und nahm den Zwischenraum heraus
und baute draus ein großes Haus.

Der Zaun indessen stand ganz dumm,
mit Latten ohne was herum.

Ein Anblick gräßlich und gemein.
Drum zog ihn der Senat auch ein.

Der Architekt jedoch entfloh
nach Afri- od- Ameriko.

The Art of Participation

SFMOMA Exhibition
Looking back nearly 60 years across a wide spectrum of genres and media, this exhibition examines how artists have engaged members of the public as essential collaborators in the art-making process.

Inauguration Trip

It was really odd to attend the inauguration. I wanted to write about the extreme joy and passion and love and life but actually I can't say thats what I saw. The TV seems to portray that really well, throngs of people cheering and crying, but I think the reality was much more subtle than that. In many ways much more intense.

The journey really began waiting at Penn Station at 5am in a freezing cold New York. Everyone seemed silent in their down jackets and Obama pins as we scuttled into the warmth of the bus. There wasn't much enthusiasm, more a blanket of sleep as we drove out of the city past the industrial landscape of New Jersey. After London, America's general structure looks so industrial, a homage to post-WW2 might. Enormous steel bridges crossing wastelands of industrial parks, endless electric towers, vast lots full of new cars, impressive electrical plants that look like miniature cities condensed into a jumble of metal, lights and plumes of smoke five times their size moving up into the distance...

I thought about rolling across America in a bus, how many of us coming from so many diverse places, as I stared out the window watching the sun come up on this bleak man-made horizon. I woke up later to snow covered rocks and trees as we made it past the Delaware River. Well anyway I imagined it was the Delaware River and that George Washington nowadays couldn't even fish there if he tried, but it still looked majestic with its frozen slabs colliding in the currents.

I noticed something else as we drove into the suburbs of D.C., a real lack of flags. This mad pro-war nation seems to suddenly be ashamed of itself, all those trite images of patriotism tucked away into attics for the next big war. Just a few well graphic designed Obama-Biden lawn placards could be seen placed neatly in front of the houses like a frozen herald.

By the time we arrived the bus was buzzing, everyone was chatting about strategies for getting into the Mall, passing around maps and their iPhones with live TV streaming of the millions. The guy in front of me was African and had a huge bag with mini-pillows connected to a suction cup on a string, presumably for your car windshield. On one side was an American flag and other Obama's face, fairly pixelized, the whole thing trimmed with gold tassle. He was traveling with a Central American man he had hired to help him sell his wares, who was very excited because he had never been to D.C. before.

The metro was full, people from all over America, but also all over the world. I had to help two Italians buy their tickets. The Junkie with the tear drop tattoo on his eye and spider web on his neck was upset the machine took his quarter and it was all the money he had to get into the centre of town....

D.C. was packed like a factory farm. So completely controlled, tall metal gates you couldn't throw a candy bar threw blocked off areas in a labyrinth pattern. If there's something this government knows how to do is control people. I was impressed at how managed the flow through the city was. As we moved towards the only suggested accessible gate to the mall, what struck me most was the amount of hawkers: t-shirts, pins, stickers, hats, scarves, calenders, "official" passes. There was also the incredible amount of special-interest groups giving out information, like the map of the city that doubled for some Church, or the Vegan postcard of Obama.

We never made it to the Mall. By the time Obama was being sworn in we were still marching along with hundreds of thousands of others who had no idea where to go. A delivery man with a sandwich cart and a transistor radio stopped in the middle of the street and aired Obama's speech. We stood huddle around it, such an incredible range of people, all shapes sizes ages nationalities colours creeds, just in this one little ad-hoc group.

People hugged their kids tighter, and some tears flowed and everyone seemed relaxed and content. We applauded and nodded to eachother and smiled. It was such a small little group on this oasis of millions, standing around together sharing this moment. I thought to myself this is exactly the point isn't it? This notion of community felt so very present....

We applauded the end and disbanded into the city again.... As we walked by Airforce1 carrying Bush flew violently by and people cheered his departure. Not angry and not violent, but relieved. Then the millions began pouring out of the Mall, we had been a block away after all.... What a sight, can you imagine 2 million happy people? Not ecstatic, not chanting not a rock concert, but just happy. Happy, content, relaxed, relieved. We walked with the flow and everyone smiled, walked slowly and carefully, didn't push or fight. It was so impressive....

Of course I was wearing my white top hat and angel wings I had made.... In the front in silver it said "Angel Obama" and on the back it said "Hello World, We Are Back!" I don't recommend wings for large crowds of millions by the way... One woman came up to me and said "Back from what?" I felt immediately defensive and without looking at her said "Back from the dark ages of these past 8 years". She laughed and responded: "Honey, that was the inquisition!"

For whatever its worth and whatever may happen in the future, I am glad that for one moment in time in this short history we spin, I stood around with 2 million people and just felt happy, I mean thats gotta change something!!!

Beirut Project

I am happy to announce a new collaborative performance project, aimed for July/August 2009 to take place in Beirut, Lebanon. I'll be collaborating with Zoukak Theatre Company and Cultural Association to produce a Live Art event.
Details to follow....
Check out my Beirut travelogue from my first trip in Nov