Thomas Hirschhorn Energy: Yes! Quality: No!
Wednesday, 26
People stand me up a lot. However, I tell you, I've actually gotten so used to it that I don't worry about anymore. Well, I'm writing about it now, but not because it bothers me, but on the contrary because I'm aware that I can still keep my cool. I'm not offended if someone cancels something. Just being OK, then we won't see each other. Maybe another time. That's OK.
There are certainly a lot of people who have the same thing happen to them and then there are a few who almost never have it happen to them. Everybody strives for those special people. Are you sure? No, I think that's an illusion. Maybe these people have a certain power and that's why no one dares to undo what was planned, and yet they are alone and somehow trapped in their system.
In fact, I think that when someone cancels or wants to reschedule an appointment, that person has a certain level of trust in me because they can afford not to honor an agreement. Of course, if I was looking forward to it, I'm sure I'll be a little disappointed. But I can quickly overcome this disappointment by thinking that if it's right for the other person, then it's right for me too.
I never take it personally. The people who are unable to keep their word in this situation have to do something else, and that has nothing to do with me. They don't choose something else because they don't value me. In fact, I kind of feel sorry for them because they're overwhelmed and have to cancel.
Friday, 21
Today is Pipilotti's birthday. I'll probably remember this for the rest of my life, but I also received
a reminder from a calendar app connected to friends on social media.
Yes, Pipilotti Rist, the famous Swiss artist. We were celebrating my 30th birthday together, for which I had only planned a dinner, but she suggested that we throw a big party together since our birthdays were close together. And that's exactly what we did.
Sometimes I do a little research to see what she's up to these days. I remember her as a completely straightforward person who clearly strived to pursue and implement her ideas. I was someone who tended to question before doing anything and was never really on the right track because there were too many paths crossing, which was distracting. Having children was, among other things, a topic that concerned me. When I asked her, she said maybe when she's 40 years old. And I think that's actually what happened. She was able to realize what she wanted to do in every respect and also convince others to help her. I myself have always had many objections in my head or in my soul that hindered me and drained my creative energies. Too much self-doubt that my energy is doing the right thing.
Things are much better now. Since living in TG and realizing the house I imagined, I believe more in my own power to make things happen or to perceive my actions as the right thing.
Pipilotti Rist
Wednesday, 19
Today is my birthday. I celebrate it in Jufureh. This year Tobaski and my birthday almost coincided. Today is the third day of Tobaski – in Jufureh.
The Gambian government has officially announced Tobaski for Sunday the 16th. Jufureh made an exception. It was on Monday. We were here on Saturday because we didn't know exactly when it would be. Aminatta, the owner of the lodge where we have been spending the holidays for several years, told me that it would be Monday. But I wasn't sure and preferred to be on time. And it was nice to be here a day earlier, more time, less stress. I'm just a little worried about the dogs. I hope they don't miss us too much. Since there was a bridge in Farafeni, we have always taken this route.
And indeed, we had been lucky. Someone told us that the ferry only carried people during the day, which meant that we would have waited all day to cross the river. We're going back tomorrow - by ferry, because it is definitely much shorter. Hopefully not too much waiting, and a safe transport. Yeah we will see.
When I travel, I take time to read. Last time I was at the Timbooktoo bookstore, I not only bought the one by Bernadine Evaristo, but I also asked about books by Benjamin Zephaniah. I ordered his autobiography, which I want in my library. The only thing available from him was a book intended for school lessons. One of the books he was supposed to write for young people.
I love it. It's very exciting. Benjamin Zephaniah is best known for his poetry and, according to his autobiography, writing poetry was most important to him. But this novel is great. He deals with the refugee issue very sensitively. It's written from the refugee's perspective, but everyone who helps him also plays a very positive role.
Wednesday, 12
Sitting at a makeshift desk in the Oberlichtsaal during the renovation of the Antikenmuseum Basel in 1985/86 having the function of monitoring who came in and out as well as operating the telephone, I needed to keep myself busy in order not to lose my spirit. One activity was to cut things out of newspapers, stick them on an index card and arrange them alphabetically in an index box. A passing archaeologist remarked that them, the scientists, do archiving whenever they run out of ideas.
I actually haven't been doing much else in my studio in recent years. In fact, I can't think of a better idea at the moment than making something out of existing material and leaving it unchanged in its existence. Sometimes I dream about pictures that I paint, like I used to paint during art school. Back then, I produced the frames myself, covered them, often with old bed sheets that my mother provided to me, and then primed them with white acrylic paint. Every now and then I painted directly without grounding. I just started painting without a clear idea of what would come out. I let myself go and thought this was the right path.
Well, that was a long time ago and I can't really start there. To go to the trouble of making a canvas, one would have to have an idea that goes beyond mere waste of materials. Producing sculptures would interest me too. Film, music. Oh, there are so many beautiful things to do. Whatever, I am happy with what I do.
And indeed, we (apart from planning, measuring and deciding where decisions need to be made, I don't do much. The main work is with the workers) have finally started building the guest house for friends, artists, whoever. The scope is limited out of consideration for the avocado plant. But we are convinced that it will be beautiful.
It's hard working in the hot sun, but the men hold up well and stay in good spirits. I am very grateful to them for that. I told them that I was going to take pictures, but I think they were not in the mood for posing. What I completely understand.
Monday, 10
Today I archived the 98th book in the Art Space Library. Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo, which I have already read on the Kindle version. I wanted it in the library and bought it from Gambia's best bookstore, Timbooktoo.
Unfortunately, many of the books already have stains from the high humidity, which is often related to the quality of the paper. Although I have a device that displays the humidity, I have not yet found an appropriate means of reducing it. If the humidity in the bookcase is very different from that outside, I open the doors for a while to lower it. During dry season.
While taking photos, the humidity rose by two percent within a few minutes. The rainy season has begun and the humidity is increasing daily.
Art Space Library
Monday, 3
Art Space Collection
Art Space Work of the Month
Art Space Work of the Month
Karl Kluth, Brücke (bridge), lithography, 1956, 63 x 49 cm
Saturday, 1
Today I finished Zephaniah's autobiography.
I enjoyed and loved to read it. Thank you.
Benjamin Zephaniah was born in the same year as me, but when I compare what I did, I am ashamed of how little politically active I was. I was too afraid.
As a teenager I was left-wing and that was also one of the reasons why my rather conservative parents just let me go - they knew they couldn't change it. But I was afraid to really commit myself when I was asked if I wanted to join the SDAJ (Sozialistische Deutsche Arbeiter Jugend). The membership form already in my hands stayed blanc. When I wanted to move into their shared apartment in the city at the age of 16, I went with my parents there to have a look at it. It was one of those older houses from the beginning of the 20th century with big rooms. I liked it, but on the other hand I was unsettled. My mom commented dryly "If you move here, we won't support you anymore." My dad said nothing. I had no idea how I was going to survive there.
My father used to tell me, when the whole family was sitting at one table having dinner, that sooner or later I would sue them. I think that was his way of getting sure I won't do it.
Never would I have thought of going to court as an opportunity and was always hurt when he said it. Why did I still live with them? I just had a different political view, but never thought of fighting them. On the contrary, often was I worried that my lifestyle - the people I was interested in and with who I somehow shared my life - could possibly affect them negatively. Yes, I was in fear for them. I didn't want anything bad happen to them.
These different worlds evoked an inner strife.
I think my mother knew it, because she was not worried. She knew she just had to show me her disgust to see me becoming helpless. Yeah, she was able to destroy what I loved. Then, one day, I had a strong phase and dyed my hair Henna red. She found I made myself ugly. I didn't care, disconnected myself. Though later, the time they lived in that new house, I still tried to impress them by producing myself. Tried to be important and good looking. I wanted that they love the identity I had chosen. No, I wasn't successful, didn't really get what I was longing for. I believe they weren't able to understand me. Anyway, what I knew was that I had to be this way. I couldn't follow their lifestyle, I had to find my own.
Although I was the same age as Zephaniah, who was an activist and very active against apartheid, I just boycotted buying imported products from South Africa. That was it. Too far to understand how terrible it was until I got my artist residency in Johannesburg. Even then I only felt the aftermath, because it was eight years after the cruel system had collapsed.
My mom is still alive, but has been sick for several months. Now she is on her way of recovering, slowly slowly. Nowadays we have it good with each other and i hope she won't read my texts here. Too long ago. She doesn't enjoy going to the past unless there is happiness. No, it is only for me to understand what happened.