also this morning. but guys chased me away with stones so I took the pictures in a haste picture5 picture6
Sunday, 30
went to the sand mining area. they forwarded till the path we take when we walk to the beach. picture1 picture2 picture3 picture4
Saturday, 29
(no notes)
Friday, 28
(no notes)
Thursday, 27
As I wrote on Sunday, I don't have a photo of the dunes before sand mining, but google maps still has an old one: dunes before sand mining
And on this one you can see them slowly approaching: sand mining approach and the whole region
Wednesday, 26
Sometimes I wish I could go back to 1982 when I was in New York for four weeks. It was April. In the beginning it snowed, in the end everything bloomed. Similarily it felt, like I was there for a year. I sucked in every day. First I was corrected as I looked up at the sky along the skyscrapers. Only the tourists did that. I was also forbidden to dance in the street. Of course, I had my new Akai Walkman with me and listened to music non-stop. I was never scared, whether on the subway, in the Bronx, or at night in Brooklyn. It was all so exciting and inspiring. I can hardly remember sleeping. In general, there are few memories. Most of it is very vague. The HfbK had given me slide and Super8 films. I last viewed the slides in 2004. A slide magazine in the shape of a suitcase filled with slides that I thought I had taken to The Gambia, but it's not here. I still have the Super8 film, which I have never seen again since 1982 at Hamburg's cinema Abaton. I really wanted to stay, even looked at an apartment, but I had no money and I didn't have the courage to just try. My head was too messy as I can see from the diaries of the time. I was afraid not to return to Europe and be left to myself in New York. What did i miss? Could I have ended up at the Chelsea Hotel and met Patty Smith or at Warhol's Factory and Jean Michel Basquiat? Who knows, but time cannot be turned back. Better to enjoy the present, sometimes draw from the past and then think about the future again. By the way, the red timber has been purchased and is ready for processing. But before, there is still some masonry work to be done.
page 97/98 of New York Diary 1982
Tuesday, 25
This morning I was at the Medicare clinic where there was no sign of a public holiday. My doctor recommended the corona vaccination. He said it was better for me. I can't really get used to the idea of getting vaccinated yet. We will see. Because there were so many people in the clinic, I told the doctor that I would rather come another time to do the lab test because I had an appointment with the carpenter to buy timber. But then the bank had closed. During the night it was announced that Africa Day is now declared a public holiday after all, which I think is basically right. But of course I was disappointed that I had left the clinic to go into town in vain. To compensate, we went to lunch in a restaurant.
Monday, 24
I learned that today is Whit Monday. Later, in the evening I learned that the African Liberation Day of tomorrow, the 25th of May, is not an official holiday in Gambia. Good to know, because we want to buy the wood for the roof beams and I have to go to the bank beforehand.
Sunday, 23
Another walk to the sand mine. There is only one truck this time as it is Sunday afternoon.
It's a shame that I don't have a photo from before.
Saturday, 22
moments of relaxation on the sofa in the studio looking at the ceiling
Friday, 21
(from The House of Culture Tintinto fb page) this is happening in our neighborhood towards the sea - sand mining. In my eyes they are destroying the nature. The landscape has changed completely, where before there were bushes and dunes, now there is a huge gap.
to enlarge the picture, please click on it
Thursday, 20
I recently saw Ostia, a 1970 film by Pier Paolo Pasolini that opened my heart. All of the work here on the roof takes up my energy and I don't have a lot of time to devote to beautiful things. I'm not saying the rooftop work isn't good, but it's stressful for me. Yes, sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the responsibility that everything is okay. In fact, if I don't look carefully, it's going to be botched. Yes, sometimes I'm even afraid the whole house could collapse. But I also know that I have a tendency to be prone to hysteria at certain moments. Still, I was able to see the film, which hadn't been on youtube for a long time. I can be most creative when nothing bothers me. And by that I mean, among other things, watching good films. Good work inspires me. With the three satellite dishes, I get (broadcasted from Dubai) some good films here, but mostly contemporary action films that are no more than ten years old and often with fast cuts and a very dynamic camera. I was all the more impressed by the calm and clarity of the recordings in Ostia. I think the gentle irony that goes in every now and then is great. When I can take the time, I do research on Pasolini. One thing I encountered in a documentary surprised me. At a demo for the 68 'uprising, he supported the police instead of the students, as any leftist would have done. In his opinion, students were bourgeois while policemen were working class children. Accatone is on my watch later list.
Ostia
Whoever says the truth shall die - Pier Paolo Pasolini Documentary 1981
Wednesday, 19
(no notes)
Tuesday, 18
The indifference and apathy
others show towards me hurts
when I worry about
their wellbeing.
The same is true
when communication
reaches zero
but I am not yet finished
with the topic addressed.
Monday, 17
more work on the roof
Sunday, 16
today was a blue day.
Saturday, 15
someone tells me about the bombing in Palestine
Friday, 14
(from my post at fb Art Space group)
Maren Sanneh Avendre 2020
Thursday, 13
I haven't had the bliss to get a thought under control and then being able to write something.
Wednesday, 12
The (no notes) is echoing in my ears. I'd like to be more free concerning my writing. But I always think can I bring this or that and then my idea vanishes already into nothing. Free, I mean, writing what comes to my mind with no censorship or anything. Rather experimenting than brooding. Would be great if I could write the way I can talk. Sometimes, if you could hear me talking, you won't believe it. I can talk non-stop, coming from Pontius to Pilatus, adding one point to another, like I was walking through a landscape or, when I am really in mood, through a busy metropole. A monologue, a lecture. But it's different when it comes to writing. Not that straightforward. Then I see the words and am already distracted by them. The advantage of writing, however, is that I can work on it and get the result I want.
Tuesday, 11
(no notes)
Monday, 10
(no notes)
Sunday, 9
Saturday, 8
work on the roof has been going well the last two days.
Friday, 7
(from my post at fb Art Space group)
Risaburo Kimura (1924-2014) - City 97, 1974, silkscreen printing, 42,9x59 cm
Thursday, 6
(no notes)
Wednesday, 5
work on the roof is going slow, but doing some gardening that was left behind.
Tuesday, 4
a lovely workshop with Isatou, Sally, Ami, Venus and Mimi
Monday, 3
My nerves are on fire. The old pillars on the roof terrace are being hewn out. I feel like the whole house is shaking. But they tell me that there is a lot of noise in the house when the sound is transmitted through all the floors and walls. No danger to the house though, I needn't worry. As I said, I don't like going to the construction site because I always see something that is not right. But when I saw the chunks of concrete falling down, I had to tell them that they had to be careful not to damage the tiles on the landing around the house. Nobody paid any attention to it and in fact six tiles have already been damaged in such a way that they need to be replaced. If I had switched on earlier, I could have prevented the damage. Anyway, I have to come to terms with it. There is no point in getting stuck with this lapse in retrospect. In addition, John promised me to replace the tiles at the end.
Sunday, 2
(no notes)
Christian Schaffner, 2003, lead and coloured pencil on paper
Saturday, 1
As I print out the work of the month, I get angry again. I checked the cartridges beforehand and found that the blue had dropped considerably after just one press. Several times my HP printer went into the checking printer status. I think ink is sprayed every time ... (Suspicious as I am, I suspect business interests behind it.)
The work on the roof terrace is going well. The Iron Bender started yesterday. Some of the stones that will be used to make the concrete for the posts and beams have also been brought onto the terrace. I'm holding back this time, or at least I'll try. I know from experience that every time I look at the construction site I discover something that I think is wrong, and when I say it I usually just cause confusion or at least spark a discussion that makes the work stop.
Yes, Labor Day is nice. You are free, but you can work with a clear conscience and do not have to devote yourself to the leisure activities. I've always enjoyed working on holidays. It's a peaceful atmosphere and you won't be bothered because everyone is busy with their festivities. Ok, on Labor Day one should demonstrate for the workers, which I did occasionally, but only as a follower, not really as an activist. I have always sympathized with the activists, but was too shy to play a proactive role.
I see all the busy artists on Facebook, which is probably why I keep justifying myself for being unproductive. I think of Marcel Duchamp, who left the art world and devoted the rest of his life to playing chess. But I haven't left the art world yet. Actually, I see the work on The House of Culture Tintinto and the ART SPACE as my art to a certain extent. What I miss when I am not producing pictures (I have not yet checked the meaning of the two institutions in the broader sense of viewing them as pictures) is recognizing how my subconscious is reflected, or when I look at a work and being amazed that I was the one who created it. When it comes to communicating with others about my works of art, I've never been spoiled. I didn't design my work to need a viewer other than myself, but at the same time I was more than happy whenever someone acknowledged my work. And still I am. Perhaps I have devoted myself too long to music, which automatically and sensually establishes contact.