trans-(a)gressions for 2009

"go the last part on foot

and when you come to the steps try a dance write your name in sand
and become invulnerable

come the entrance is here free the internal songs: draw a bird with the tip of your tongue across my body"

Pia Tadruf: When an Angel breaks her Silence 1981, translated by Roger Greenwald
images: Solaris, Tarkovski

CEREMONIES OF TRUST PARADES, CHANGES & REPLAYS by Jessie Emkic

The performance starts with five dancers in business suits standing in line close to the audience. Coming from the background, what sounds like burning oil being electrocuted, is playing in increasing volume. Aloof and austere, they look as if they had just escaped their daily office routine and got astray on the theatre stage. Slowly, they begin unbuttoning the white collar shirts… more here…

Coming to
Culturgest, Lisbon, Portugal: January 23-24, 2009
Le Vivat, Armentiéres, France: February 4, 2009

. .

in

Je vous salue, Sarajevo

de

.

Jean-Luc Godard e Anne-Marie Mievil

1993
.

.

7 PM
.........................................................................................................................................
Diving into the Wreck

First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber
the absurd flippers
the grave and awkward mask.
I am having to do this
not like Cousteau with his
assiduous team
aboard the sun-flooded schooner
but here alone.

There is a ladder.
The ladder is always there
hanging innocently
close to the side of the schooner.
We know what it is for,
we who have used it.
Otherwise
it's a piece of maritime floss
some sundry equipment.

I go down.
Rung after rung and still
the oxygen immerses me.
the blue light
the clear atoms
of our human air.
I go down.
My flippers cripple me,
I crawl like an insect down the ladder
and there is no one
to tell me when the ocean
will begin.

First the air is blue and then
it is bluer and then green and then
black and I am blacking out and yet
my mask is powerful
it pumps my blood with power
the sea is another story
the sea is not a question of power
I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element.

And now: it is easy to forget
what I came for
among so many who have always
lived here
swaying their crennelated fans
between the reefs
and besides
you breathe differently down here.

I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
I stroke the beam of my lamp
slowly along the flank
of something more permanent
than fish or weed

the thing I came for:
the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth
the drowned face always staring
toward the sun
the evidence of damage
worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty
the ribs of the disaster
curving their assertion
among the tentative haunters.

This is the place.
And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair
streams black, the merman in his armored body
We circle silently
about the wreck
we dive into the hold.
I am she: I am he

whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes
whose breasts still bear the stress
whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies
obscurely inside barrels
half-wedged and left to rot
we are the half-destroyed instruments
that once held to a course
the water-eaten log
the fouled compass


We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way
back to this scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear.

(c) 1972 Adrienne Rich

John Michael Hayes (11 de Maio de 1919- 19 de Novembro de 2008), Argumentista de Rear Window, To Catch a Thief, The Trouble with Harry, e The Man Who Knew Too Much.


“The four films that John Michael Hayes wrote for Hitchcock, were made during the richest and most complex period in the director's career. As Steven DeRosa writes (DeRosa, Steven (2001). Writing with Hitchcock: The Collaboration of Alfred Hitchcock and John Michael Hayes), Hitchcock was most comfortable working with younger, untried writers to whom he could be a mentor; the films he made with Hayes are ample testimony to the success of that strategy. DeRosa describes the relationship in meticulous detail, providing fascinating evidence of the extreme care with which Hitchcock chose and worked with his writers.”
The New York Times Book Review / review by George Robinson

‘FREEDOM IS DOING WHAT IS ACCEPTABLE FOR YOU’ Interview with fashion designer Sébastien Meunier by Jessie Emkic

more here…

Wasteland, Juan Muñoz, 1987

A Man In A Room Gambling + Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet de Gavin Bryars - Serralves

+
Maison à Bordeaux, Rem Koolhaas, 1998

What happens after a house that has been plastered all over the glossy magazines?

'The peculiarity of the movie is that it presents this icon of contemporary architecture through the eyes of Guadalupe Acedo, the cleaning lady, and the other people who look after the building.' WeMakeMoneyNotArt

THE HOUSE WITTGENSTEIN AND ROITHAMER’ S CONE. Fragments of an Investigation By Adelaide Deleite

more here…

blindness / silence / (...)

La Antena, Esteban Sapir, 2007 ...

post-it

*

quintans & concha

*

a p o p l e x i a d a i d e i a

*

1 novembro / 17:00

*

gato vadio

r. do rosario, 281

porto

in nomine matre et filia et corpore insamni

Can it be that in the West, in our time, the female body has been constructed not only as lack or absence but with more complexity, as a leaking, uncontrollable, seeping liquid; as a formless flow; as viscosity, entrapping, secreting; as lacking not so much the phallus but the self-containement - not a cracked or porous vessel, like a leaking ship, but a formlessness that engulfs all form, a disorder that threatens all order? (Grosz)

Charcot, hysterics of the Salpêtrière

(imagem1)I DREAM OF AUGUSTINE
Australia - United Kingdom, 2005 | 10 minutes |
Director Cordelia Beresford | Choreography Narelle
Benjamin | Music Huey Benjamin

second skin, second body

-

-

Pinar Yolacan ...
series "Perishables", 2004 & "Maria", 2007

The Bragolin Files

MISSA BREVIS

It Never Changes To Stop
Sit up straight and be quiet,
Sit down, son.
Sit up straight in your seat,
And I do not want any more talking, any more moving about, at all.


















Absolutely still, absolutely quiet.
Look up here. Look up here!Let me have your undivided attention.
Nobody talking, nobody moving,
Absolutely (snap) nobody looking around.
Alright put your hands down, eyes (snap) closed.
Close your eyes, eyes closed.
Come on, right now, come on.
Nobody moving, nobody talking.
Absolutely still, every eye closed.





And, uh, he thought he could, um, uh, he could stop when he wanted to, that he can stop, you know, when he wants to stop. And, uh, I don't think that he ever really believed that he couldn't stop. I really believe it. I think that he really felt that he could stop whenever he wanted to.


http://www.christianboltanski.net/

Elegy for Robert Rauschenberg

Elegy

daí e daqui - espaços limítrofes ou da atropia das cinco

"Volgens de regels

Jij speelt een spel.


Jij werkt volgens de regels, maar zegt niet, na afloop

geef hem een dag de tijd om uit het zicht te raken


Jij vraagt mij

of hij het halen zal

of een dag een eeuwigheid, een uur genoeg zal zijn.


Ik herhaal wat jij aftelt en zie dat het klopt.

Hoe het binnen de regels past –





















Niet meer bewegen, een blinddoek voordoen, ons verstoppen.

Het is ons allemaal gegund."

Jan Baeke
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

According to the rules

You play a game.


You work according to the rules, but don’t say, afterwards

give him a day to get out of sight.


You ask me

if he will make it

if a day, an eternity, an hour will be enough.




I repeat what you count out and see that it works.

How it fits within the rules –


Don’t move again, put a blindfold on, hide ourselves.


We are given it all in all.

© Translation: 2001, Rod Mengham and Jan Baeke

THE PORCELAIN PROJECT

Every man´s life is a fairytale...

_________________________________________________________

“My childhood has never lost its magic, it has never lost its mystery, and it has never lost its drama.”

Louise Bourgeois, The Laws of Nature I,II,III,IV,V 2003

Lucille Wittgenstein is fuck up

Who The Fuck Is Wittgenstein? I 2nd Discourse

Good Art - Bad Art (Who Cares)