What a nice kind of feeling, when there is no sorrow, no worries. Yea, that means freedom to me. No questions about what is right or wrong. Simply being there with the powerful feeling of satisfaction. But then, embedded in his youthful charisma and a mysterious indifference written on the face, he enters the room. So I am thrown back on myself and start to doubt my own perfection again. When I left the house in the morning for watering the plants, a sweet smell was in the air. Only an almost imperceptible breeze moved the leaves in the trees. A single bird sang its song. A mild morning, I remarked (to myself).
You can't imagine how many questions I've already asked that came from my deepest core and he was actually almost always ready to answer them. I talked to him about dreams, statements about life and love, psychoanalytic insights, the effects of LSD, musical experiences and artistic epochs such as surrealism and pop art, the French existentialists or my personal experiences in New York, Paris and Barcelona. And at the Ayers Rock. Tourists began to climb the holy mountain, actually forbidden because the Aborigines in Australia had declared Uluru as one of their sacred site belonging to their songlines. Back then we walked around the mountain respecting the local rules. Photography was also forbidden, but I couldn't resist. We integrated the photos into our slide show Trip Slides (slide menu documentation).
And he was ready to listen. Now a few hours later, the wind has taken command again. It whistles from every crack between window frames and walls, the casuarina blows its melody in the allegro. One messiner who built the stair case and the balustrade on the roof once described it as the sound of a passing truck. Then he switches to the bad boy again and looks forward to being out with friends. Carefully selected his wardrobe, he goes on paths in which I only participate to a limited extent. Time he needs for himself. It's always the moment of separation that throws me off, but as soon as I get used to the new feeling of being alone, I get ground under my feet again and can go about doing my things.
Saturday, 30
youtube gave me a hint this late morning after another nice party night: An Evening with Patti Smith where she is introducing her new book, or lets say for me new book with the title Year of the monkey. While watching the video I find out it is about the year 2016, which was very very crucial for me, because I emigrated to Gambia that very year. And it is really that I like monkeys. I am always happy when see them hopping, mostly from car when I drive through the parc areas, or sometimes on the fences of our compound. Even then I like to see them, although they destroy our vegetable garden. In her talk answering a question about being creatively blocked Patti Smith speaks about the muse, which is sometimes frivolous, and it will come and go but it always comes back. It is a time of suffering, but it is a waste of time to bang your head against the wall and feel like overly emotional about it. It is a good time to study, read books, go to the ocean.
Friday, 29
Why is there so much trouble in the world?
Blue Velvet
I observe that I often go to the pharmacy. I am actually looking for help. My life is exhausting, I age quickly. And then I look in the mirror and I'm scared of myself. I keep asking myself who I am and what I am doing here.
It is the result from my otherness, Toubab. What standards should I set to justify my existence? A simply stoic "I'm here" and that's it, or the fulfillment of expectations as a toubab of having to do something right, although the question of what is "right" cannot be clearly answered. Of course I should be useful to the country, teach children, build schools and hospitals. Everyone is happy when I talk about my art center. But if I make my life inconspicuous, I am left in peace. It's common here to have a much younger partner - toubabs with young lovers. There are even postcards that make fun of it, which to me means that it's kind of a standard. The two-generation liaison is tolerated because money comes in. The soul of the toubab remains secondary for the good of the community. However, I am not entirely sure whether it will also be recognized in the educated classes and not put in the white trash or prostitution drawer. Although I think the Gambian society seems to be egalitarian. It doesn't matter what social class someone belongs to, they accept each other as long as the rules are followed.
I try to meet expectations as much as possible. I avoid attracting attention, be it with suitable clothes - hot pants and minis, which some tourists cannot do without, do not belong in my closet. Or be it through responsible action towards the environment, common sense when planning everyday life and appropriate communication. But I don't like this good citizen that I usually play. That's not me. And then I vacillate when I am happy about films or art that would fail here. So far it has remained secret or hidden in my diary. Anyone who checks my bibliography will notice. Liberation lies in the discipline is a saying that I learned within yoga. Yes, I still believe therein. I can relax afterwards. I don't always have to have an advantage, a question should be heard too. I have to change my constitution as I look to the future. That doesn't work with forgetting or lying to yourself. No, that doesn't help. It is better to see one's face and body as they are. The fear of impermanence shouldn't turn into a psychosis.
Thursday, 28
It's been a long time since I have watched TRRC and indeed, I dedicated this day to Essa M. Faal interrogating NRA member Lamin Darboe. It was a heated questioning and in the end the entire commission complained about the inappropriate behavior of the relatively young witness, who denied any involvement in tortures, except one that came across almost like a slip of the tongue. Otherwise, he called all testimonies lies. He always spoke in a very loud voice, yes, he almost yelled and kept interrupting the lead counsel. The hearing lasted until after 7 p.m., which is unusually long.
Wednesday, 27
My mind is blank. For the past two days I let go and thought I'd just let it be - no notes. But today it seems even worse, my mind is completely empty. There is nothing. And as I write this, I'm slowly getting into the mood. Shortly before, I read an interview with Sophia Süßmilch, which inspired me to leave something out at all. She is a great artist. I have to go now.
Tuesday, 26
(no notes)
Monday, 25
(no notes)
Sunday, 24
Traces of Dust
Saturday, 23
to whom it may concern
Friday, 22
(from my notes) Today I posted this photo of Lutz Dille from 1951 at the Art Space Group at fb. It suits my parents' tastes, especially my father's, who took photos back then and enlarged them in the darkroom. As a child, I was allowed to help him in the darkroom and there I learned to enlarge. I enlarged all of my photos, always black and white, at home and later in the art academy's laboratory. At the time, I thought my father was patriarchal. Women should have something girlish, shy, soft and at the same time something playful that was there to please the man. In Dille's photo, however, the passing shadow embodies something voyeuristic, someone who quickly catches the embrace as he walks past, convinced that no one will see him. A dilemma that I know when I photograph people. On the one hand, I want the people in my photos to appear as natural as possible and for that it is best if these people don't notice me, on the other hand I don't want to be voyeuristic.
When I was 15 I started opposing my father. Well educated in the debate, I accused him of being a capitalist while, tired from work, he probably had little inclination or patience to argue with me, and so our debates often ended in heated arguments by the time he or I left the room. Despite everything, I wanted confirmation from him and my mother worked to put me in a better light again. But even she was sometimes not up to my rhetoric and referred to my father when it got too much for her. I felt alone and began to look for love in boys of the same age, which I succeeded in doing, albeit with many disappointments. My female friends were very close to me, on a friendly level, and my real companions.
Thursday, 21
sorry, i cannot remove the 9 min drive - home but this is The House of Culture Tintinto
Wednesday, 20
(from my notes) interesting... you see, when someone speaks softly with a slurred pronounciation, misunderstanding is somehow inevitable. This person doesn't really want to be understood in that very moment. Maybe s/he is in his or her thoughts somewhere else and doesn't want to communicate. Or he or she avoids being held accountable. Further, to mumble mean things then is easy and in retrospect s/he can deny having spoken these insults. You see, when someone speaks softly, it does not necessarily have to mean shyness, but can also involve a certain sneakiness. However, this behavior can be related to bad experiences in the past, so that a defensive stance is inherent in him. To get to the point, communication plays a very important role in my life. When someone avoids communicating, I often refer it to myself. Consequently I start feeling down. But in order not to fall into this trap, I prefer to look at this person and leave all the behavior with them, trying to understand without getting stuck.
Tuesday, 19
When browsing my emails - 140 emails have accumulated since Jan 4th, 60% of which are newsletters, mostly art and Africa websites to which I have subscribed (20% addressed to me personally and 20% junk and advertisements i don't need) - I come across a critical cooking show on e-flux architecture which I am listening to while continuing going through my mails. By the way, yesterday, for dinner, we had couscous mixed with milk what is called Chakri in Gambia. The fresh milk we had brought from Juffureh.
In Moon Cook, Nelly Ben Hayoun and chef Rabah Ourrad both prepare a traditional North African dish, couscous royal, from their respective kitchens in London and Algiers. As they cook, they discuss displacement, nation-states, colonization, moon exploration, and human settlements in space. Together, they think about possible futures on the moon, and they end up eating their couscous in a DIY moon setting they develop in their own kitchens.
Monday, 18
(no notes)
Sunday, 17
Back home we are tired from traveling. There are a lot things to do like always, but we don't care and take it easy though...
Saturday, 16
(from my notes) After a heavy night at the youth center in Juffureh with ATTACK in Concert, the entire crew, including me, took a boat trip to the island of Kunta Kinteh this morning.
Friday, 15
(from my notes) when somebody you love isn't interested in your work it hurts. Even so, you should keep going, for your own sake. Believe in your work, also when the other doesn't - head to head. In case he or she is trying to destroy it fight for your work. You will notice - later - that it was worth it.
Thursday, 14
I'll be busy next days. I will make notes in my cell phone and then add them here - when I have time.
Wednesday, 13
i don't know, but i am not sure if it was a good idea to promise every day an entry. it looks like i cannot keep it.
Tuesday, 12
interesting article about El Anatsui
Monday, 11
there is not much i can write at the moment. let's see what tomorrow brings.
Sunday, 10
easy Sunday
Saturday, 9
Oh, and yes there is a lot to do. The roof needs waterproofing and a lot of small repairs done - painting, carpentry and masonry. The originally planned complex with three guest rooms, an exhibition room, a large kitchen and public toilets could not be realized due to land problems and a subsequent change in the size of the property as well as increased costs for the first construction. It is possible that the project has lost its professional look and hence the general interest has decreased. If this is really the case, I can be nothing but less indifferent. The project does not depend on the size of the building. It is about communication, and not about denouncing material prosperity. Nevertheless, a roof over one's head should not to be despised.
Friday, 8
You might think now that the house is finished, my idea of The House of Culture is also finished. Of course not. The project, the process started the moment when the idea was created in 2009. And the idea hasn't died yet. We are (only) two people living here and trying to keep alive what we brought to life. We are taking care of the garden and two dogs as well as the house's technology for water and electricity supply. That is culture - in the broadest sense. We are connecting to the world as much as possible. Although we allow ourselves to be tired. Respecting the language of our bodies is culture too. We don't need burnouts. The House of Culture should and is an art center, but it is also an object that serves as projection of perception and offers opportunities for communication. Everybody can come here and reflect with us about the necessity of this situation in relation to the future. Just give us a call 375 87 34 so we can be prepared and receive you properly. That being said, we have an offshoot called Art Space in town in case you can't get to Tintinto. The opening hours there are from 9 to 14 every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Thursday, 7
A lot of things go through my head, but nothing that I can get to the point. It's like talking all day, but not a single sentence escapes my mouth. No thought that I could lead to a statement. Another No-Day.
Wednesday, 6
all words i am constructing in my mind seem to sound hard. looking at the plants is soothing my troubled soul. had a restless night with little sleep. it will be a day to get through. (i am trying to upload a video, but the plugins are mssing)... have to use youTube
Tuesday, 5
My inherent insecurity is still one of my main topics. The fear of not being able to move amoung people confidently is still there. I always reflect there might something wrong with me. Since youth I've read several self help books, the most recent was one I mentioned some months ago written by Yong Kang Chan. And last but not least, I completed a psychoanalysis in the opinion of getting to know and accepting myself better. But these primal fears run very deep and I could not uncover and discard all of them completely. In a Yoga workshop some weekends ago fear had been the topic. One of the participants repeated several times that she needed fear as a kind of warning when something was going to get tough. The so-called gut feeling. I agree and disagree. Yes, sometimes it helped me to prevent a disaster. But it is not what I mean. I mean ordinary situations where I suddenly feel uncomfortable and I think I'm doing something that doesn't correspond to the ideas of those who influence me. They are those with whom I have regular contact and whom I call my friends. Their opinion is important to me, without them I would feel alone. However, I am unable to fully open myself to these people because I fear that they might despise me. Which means that I am not spared to stand for myself, no matter what the situation. Also, there's no need to justify myself to my friends for what I'm doing. And with that I come to the conclusion that I have to come to terms with being alone, having my own point of view and at the same time seeing this as a liberation.
Monday, 4
i almost forgot. already in bed i think of - good night
Sunday, 3
Apart from a two hour long messenger conversation with a friend, I devoted this day to gardening. For dinner we ate large prawns with spaghetti. Hmmm, that was delicious.
Saturday, 2
I couldn't upload yesterday and in the night i got the following message on my phone:
Please note that there is a general internet outrage @ the ACE gateway. The issue is being handled with utmost urgency, we apologise for the inconvenience caused.
Friday, 1
Coming home early in the morning from Teranga Garden and Attack, this first day of year 2021 passed in a sweet flow.
xxxxI wish a happy new year for everybodyxxx