Thursday, 18
Bad news
When I came back from my Dad's burial in Hamburg (evrything went fine. I had a save flightand no stress) we could hardly pass the road to the Tintinto cultural center because it was littered with large concrete stones. We scratched over them and had to be very careful not to rip the underside of the car. While I was in Hamburg, the organization sand mining (I call it that) transformed the previously fine sand road that led to our house into a road that is almost impassable for us. All so that the huge number of trucks can comfortably continue the sand mining. They are passing continuously, which of course stirs up a lot of dust and makes a much noise. I can't even walk the dogs because I'm afraid for the dogs' lives. Not to mention that we haven't been able to reach the sea for a long time. Now I realize what peace we had before. Unfortunately, I also have to fear for our own safety. Not many people knew of our existence beforehand, which I regretted too, because the art center should have visitors though. But the hundreds of young men who are now passing by are anything but interested in art - day laborers who fight for their livelihood and sometimes come up with stupid ideas when they see no other chance. Well, let's wait and don't meet trouble halfway. But our current situation is unfortunately anything but pleasant.
Sunday, 14
Art Space Work of the Month November
Raoul Hausmann (1886-1971)
- Les photographes, 1957, photography, 30x40 cm
griffelkunst,
from the estate 1990
Angst essen Seele auf (Fear eats up the soul)
I am going home to Gambia. And I look forward to being there soon. But before I get there, the nervousness eats me up. I am almost shaking. What if I don't hear the alarm clock at 3:30 in the morning? What if the ordered taxi does not show up despite being ordered? What if my suitcase is too heavy (even though I weighed it, but who knows if magic adds a pound)? What if I lose my orientation and can't find the gate? What if they won't let me go and so on. Arriving is nice, but traveling - no. I can feel it in the stomach area. I have abdominal pain. Fear has always spread to my stomach, be it before exams or other challenges. It's frustrating. Why am I so squeamish. Only when I'm in the air and flying over Africa do I feel lighter. But I will feel most secure when I feel the ground beneath my feet at Yundum Airport. For days I've been bothering people that I'm going to travel soon. If you then wish me a pleasant stay, I no longer understand the world or I think: does nobody understand me? Of course I drive myself crazy. I can't concentrate and even dreamed of the trip in advance last night. In fact, I keep thinking about how I can counteract this travel bug, but I can't find any other solution than the simple one: it'll be fine.
Saturday, 6
The problem is that it seems difficult to generate artistic creativity when you are too busy with the demands of real life.
I think that could be a reason why most of the art is life related and not a pure fantasy.
Wednesday, November 3
Yes, I should write. I have no desire. My father has died. I wrote about his deplorable condition before. So, to a certain extent, I was prepared for it and and I think that it was a relief for him to leave this life, where there had been no dignity any more, and enter a new world where hopefully there will be peace forever. I've been back in Hamburg for over a week and was here when it happened. That was fine so I could see him one more time. Otherwise I hang around somehow. Restless and aimless. Of course I enjoy the city where I grew up. The beautiful parks and the Elbe. But so far, I haven't even made it to the city center. I let the change in the close family be like that and dedicate myself to it. At the same time I think of Gambia and how different life is there. I'm really looking forward to going back. Hopefully with renewed zest for action.
Friday, 15
I wasn't good at speaking at school, which my parents almost acknowledged with "we were also better at writing". It didn't make me happy myself, so I tried to improve my speaking. Of course, the family didn't think much of it and tended to choke me off or just not listen. Today I speak much better than I write, which again I am not satisfied with. Again and again I have absolute writer's block. It all starts with thinking, and when something smart flashes, it's time to embody what goes beyond writing and speaking in any case. Sketches or drawings are just as materializing of thoughts and ideas. The feelings color everything and are the originator of the blockages. An instance that does not allow something to be let out in the event of a blockage. I always refer to it as my own censorship - which, by the way, was the same expression in our school (in German the word Zensur) for the grades in a test or at the end of the school year. With the grading, feelings were triggered accordingly, whether joy, pride or disappointment and shame. The judgment of what we do starts first in the family, kindergarten, school, education, at work. We are always judged for what we do, sometimes praised and rewarded, or punisched. Sometimes people even love us for what we do, which then corresponds to the heart sign on Instagram and Facebook. Speaking of Facebook, today I found two illuminating texts, but without citing the source and in German. So here without a source and translated by me.
Art comes out of the tilt, says Heiner Müller. Not from the winner, but from the loser position, that is, from the one who has a problem. A real problem, not one that the zeitgeist dictates to him. A problem that affects the existence of the artist as a whole, activates it, but also unsettles it or lets it get out of step.
You can recognize good art by the dedication and accuracy with which the artist tackles her or his problems. It's not about the therapeutic. The best works of art show the limits of the therapeutic ethos. And yet they release a kind of cheerfulness, even when they devote themselves to the unbearable parts of life. Every work of art is the product of a confrontation with the real, as Lacan calls it, with what one cannot cope with. That is precisely why art is neither idealistic nor realistic in the simple sense of the word. It moves beyond this false alternative. By confronting the real in its incommensurability, it evades categories that act as sedatives.
Deleuze writes: "Creative work takes place in bottlenecks." It is not about sovereignty and triumphant better knowledge. It's about being aware of your powerlessness without narcissistically capitalizing on it. If you try to capitalize on your weaknesses, you cannot do convincing work. In the bottlenecks, the subject has the chance to gain experiences that free it from the desire to capitalize. It then discovers freedom that does without property. From the experience of such freedom, art can emerge that has an encouraging, exhilarating effect without being euphemistic, without whitewashing.
Wednesday, 13
When I finally sit down and look through my emails, I am drawn to a headline.
The ground is falling
It corresponds somewhat to my current state of being.
And then
Grounds for Resturn
Wednesday, 6
For a few days now I've been going through my photos that I took here in Gambia. Aside from the complaints I have about the programs associated with the photos, I conclude that the relationships I build with people are actually more important. They have a quality that makes the photos appear as side effects. It may also be because the majority of the images are of the building.
Friday, 1
This morning we were hit by another heavy storm, followed by rain. Again I dream of a house surrounded by a veranda. But I also think of the people, as happened for example this year in Germany or on La Palma, who have all lost their houses. So I think to be content with my fate and peacefully remove the water in the studio.
Some time ago I saw a photo on facebook of the architect who designed TintintoHouse together with her husband. On the facebook photo, she poses next to her daughter, who has just graduated from the University of Edinburgh. After our first meeting at the end of August 2016, which took place in their office in Kanifing, we arranged to meet next to the police station in Brufut (where I lived at the time) in order to proceed from there to the property in Tujereng as well as to one of the buildings they had planned - the Gunjur Inclusion Project. To my surprise, they decided that we would drive my car while they left theirs at the police station. I didn't let it show because I wanted us to develop something real together and instead of spreading a bad mood, I drove the two who enjoyed to make themselves comfortable in my back seat. By the way, she often explained that her life was not easy raising four children. They lived in Lamin. If they still live there I don't know.
Art Space Work of the Month
(dedicated to my teacher at HfbK Hamburg)
Franz Erhard Walther (*1939)
- Gleichzeitigkeitsstück, Kunsthalle Tübingen 1972
(simultaneity piece), 1974, offset print 64.5x48.5cm