Crippled Thoughts from the Mobile Biennale 2017 (Part 2)

03.08.2017 (Thursday)
In motion, towards Chişinău
Noisy music, voices, the road and a lot of yawning
Bad road infrastructure affecting the mobility aspect of the story
I am silent while moving towards Moldavia, a country that feels both troubling and intriguing
Feeling compelled to disregard history and take this country as my own – "Basarabia e România"
Stop being such a calm/scared/boring entity!
This has to do more with an inside/internal/personal journey than anything else
Discovering a different perspective, merely touching the surface though
"În galop, călări, un grup de artişti şi operatori culturali intră în ţara Moldovei pentru a o lua de la cei ce trăiesc într-însa", just joking
The national vein instantaneously filled and pulsating as the border closes
Dreams of a larger, stronger Romanian land awake in an instant as if genetically present in my own DNA
Not much to say more than the obvious – an experience none the less – simultaneous presence of opposites, looks and feels like a dreamland

04.08.2017 (Friday)
An abandoned communist city left to its own scruples
Dead purposeless ruins inhabited by crazy zombies walking around in circles
2 more individuals missing limbs (8th and 9th)

05.08.2017 (Saturday)
Chişinău, in motion back to Iaşi
Thinking cliché – art is larger than life; life, even if tempting, must stay in the shadows as art unravels its mysteries
An art scene that resembles a dry desert with timid European funded flickers of life
Nation waiting to be conquered economically and culturally kept in a stale state by the old empire, drowning in its own piss and blood, taking its last gulps of air, down to its last heartbeats
Financial precarity seems coupled by incompetence, ambiguous ideology and greed
The few last lighthouses will be soon swallowed by the fog of cultural insignificance and incompetence, impotence will roam
There is impotence on the other side of the Prut river to a large extent, still rare signs/arrows of life are being delivered with precision towards the great monster of the western cultural army
Like in the "Sobieski and the Romanians" story, there is still resistance, there are still alive country men inside the walls of the wounded citadel
Soon to fall and it will soon fall – still the only thing left to do is to battle and cause the enemy pain as death slowly takes over
With broken hands and in a state of impotent exhaustion we return towards what we used to call home. We left an eternity ago
I evidently blame the empires as they destroy diversity in their attempt of anticipating any sign of independent thought and resistance
We have accepted our defeat long before the fall of the last man
We profit from the benevolent hand of the master in detriment of our own country men
My mind is overwhelmed by stupid nationalist ideology and I must solemnly accept my incapacity at delivering proper and free thinking
My art sounds/looks like a blunt dead composition but is instead full of subtle harmonies
As the trap closes it gives birth to a horde of unusual noises born in the pits of unending fear
Closure line – lost my train of thought while forcefully trying to put myself in a state of reasonable, proper thinking

Crippled Thoughts from the Mobile Biennale 2017 (Part 1)

29.07.2017 (Saturday)
Dead drunk father with daughter outside Cluj train station; might be a 10-year-old, tucking him into bed on a bench while standing herself

30.07.2017 (Sunday)
Approximately 13-15-year-olds smoking in front of a bar outside a train station that seems lost in time and somewhat abandoned. Accordion players join the party
No lawn mowers in these parts of the country
Around 8 o'clock, just saw the second man with missing hands after 20 minutes in town
Had to return to the train coach for a last check of the cabin in case I've forgotten something
Going around this traffic circle trying to get across, no visible way for people (pedestrians) to do that
2nd couple of Jehovah's Witness missionaries that passes me by. This time no invitation. Some congress on "Hope" this week
Beautiful "old times" bridge left to disintegrate in the center of town
Romanian language sounding like Russian from afar
Macho talk on river banks, girls pretending to laugh
3rd man with hand issue using mobility helper. No missing limbs here though
Déjà vu – 2 mothers each with her own daughter pass me by 30 seconds apart, mothers with purses, daughters with backpacks, heading same direction
Seems to be today's issue – hands – just saw the 5th man with hand afflicted pass me by
Old lady hiding her hand in the jacket, looks like it’s missing (6th)
Trying to connect or at least bring to tangible distance something rather unreachable and seemingly impossible to experience
All the towns gold seems to be buried under those churches downtown
The thought that contact between different individuals is even possible brings to mind images of rubber balls trying to melt into one another
Drinks in a former Securitate torture house feels a bit surreal but kind of works none the less
Watching stupid comedy back at hotel

31.07.2017 (Monday)
2 individuals (man and woman) pass by with difficult, slightly affected walk
No hands lady (7th)
Iron cast foundry – master caster with arms the size of my legs making beautifully coordinated movements while lifting and maneuvering casts. Amazing precision
Heavy sorrow in the middle of what looks like a scrap heap site but is in fact a running business
Dark thoughts revolving the mechanics of how determined by external factors our life really is
Waiting for something important to emerge, something abstract enough that it has the power to properly excite the mind

01.08.2017 (Tuesday)
In motion, Târgu Neamţ area
Everything seems church owned around these parts, brings Middle Ages to mind
Impossible to preserve this lifestyle or the mere understanding of it, it is surely doomed
What the heck is national identity anyway?
The beauty of the landscape is almost painful, feeling condemned to love and forget it
Trying to fill in gaps of understanding with what are rather platitudes
This is a vacation – art happens elsewhere
Compelled to put down anything depressing I can think of
The misfortune of being born in a marginal country and one that does not feel obliged to export and implicitly conquer other lands with its cultural product, specifically art, even more specifically me
Animal prison visit around 2 o'clock in the afternoon
Funny lady's skirt pulled by dogs playing, a wonder to watch
Seemingly deep spirituality surrounding the Voroneţ Monastery as it stands above the trees and is properly embedded into the lines of the forest. The place is spiritual, not necessarily the people
Purpose a bit altered as people choose to ignore suggested activities
Big thought, big knowledge, little understanding
Overwhelming history crushing the present

02.08.2017 (Wednesday)
Vama, Liteni
8 o'clock AM – somewhat noisy sunny morning, animal (bird) sounds melting with cars and electrical saws
Inter-regional rivalries make everybody's loss
Another uneventful day ahead, somewhat worried looking forward at having spiritual mushrooms at the Zidaru family refuge
Well written choreography that catches the spiritual eye and treats/pleases/fools the mind. Credible to a large extent but none the less choreography
Lifestyle mimicking the primitive, the simple, bare – ambiguous in what exactly it transpires
The intellectual artist – a parasite playing the part of the village super skilled artisan – commanding respect and repulsion at the same time
The human aspect of it feels compelling, makes me want to come back for a second look/chance
Since We Were Talking About Mountains

(Exhibition view at Sandwich Gallery Bucharest, March 2017, photos by Alex Niculescu)

A few words about the work (from the exhibition brochure):

In a stale romance scenario, in which texts become slogans and plain sentences are elevated to placard texts, words expand their meaning and become abstract. In a fauve mix, great words taken over from the limits of understanding are carefully arranged next to slightly diverging notions, in a play of contrasts.

The installation created by Mihai Iepure-Górski for Sandwich Art Space recreates both a mental and a physical landscape. In the absence of text, the visual construction could be uplifting, even fascinating, a source of an evoking physical experience. However, the presence of a few short but blunt words can potentially suppress its greatness and reveal its true consistency. The possibility of choosing the suitable translation based on your personal coolness remains.

“Since we're talking about mountains, the statement begins like this, followed by its conclusion or at least a sequel at sandwich. There, I will enter a dialogue that begins with myself, following Michael Jackson's advice; I start with the man in the mirror, stepping upwards, mountainous, following the edge of a crevice that is gaping towards a dramatic but dumb fallout into humdrum.”

Artistul fără artă / Arta fără artist

Artistul fără artă rămâne singur. Locul rămas gol se umple treptat cu nopţi nedormite, cărţi/filme din cele citite/văzute de prieteni, filosofări fără sens şi istorii neterminate. Ştiri cu crize cu refugiaţi, războaie interminabile, evaluări tehnologice. Jocuri de tenis/fotbal, conversaţii cu amici şi cunoştinţe, muncă. Plimbări lungi prin parcuri pline cu oameni de succes şi predicatori entuziaşti. Tonete cu îngheţatăşi terase. Tobogane şi leagăne pentru copii. Drumuri în afara oraşuluiieşiri la piscină, vizite de familie în care se discută subiecte variate. Reparaţii la maşină şi asigurări, amenzi. Cumpărături, salarii, carduri. Copii, şcoalăgrădiniţe, parcuri, certuri şiîmbrăţişări. Mese, bicicletă. Efort, odihnă după zile mai lungi de lucru. 

Arta fără artist nu se manifestă aproape deloc. Rămâne să apară sporadic în visele copiilor, fragmente de gânduri scurte în mintea unora. Trasee alternative pe pagini scrise, spații rămase goale în urma evacuărilor, magazine cu rafturi frumos aranjate. Semne alandala pe mâzgălelile elevilor sau studenților, dialoguri absurde la diverse emisiuni, scene nesoluționate din filmele noi de la cinema. Pasaje deocheate în reclamele din pauzele meciurilor, sunete variate. Fragmente din melodii tâmpite la radioul celui de jos ori la televizor în timpul unor vizite. Cărțile rămase necitite, proiecte noi nesoluţionate. 

Simplified Rhetoric (ongoing video series): Can

see here

Artists are no big deal (insult)

Artists are garbage 
Artists are the true modern capitalists 
Artists are liars 
Artists will sell you anything 
Artists believe in nothing
Artists are outdated 
Artists are selling you a dead discipline 
For artists it's all about marketing 
Artists do not speak for themselves 
Artists are some of the laziest people 
Artists rarely work 
Artists have no point of view 
Artists see nothing
Artists are mostly drunk when they work 
Artists work so little compared to how much they earn 
Artists often hire someone else to do their work 
Artists romanticize their life 
Artists are the real dilettantes 
Artists have no idea about politics but give opinion all the time 
Artists earn corporate money but play leftists 
Artists have no true principles 
Artists are profitors  
Artists are no big deal 
Artists often don't even know how to draw or paint 
Artists are the biggest charlatans 
Artists are often paranoid or even crazy 
Art has died still artists profit from it as if it were alive 
Artists and curators are modern illusionists 
Artists are spoiled by the rich class so they better represent their interests 

"Please Vandalize!", in progress

"Generation Piece" in :Baril show, Cazarma U, Art Encounters, Timisoara

(images courtesy of :Baril)

"Generation Piece" with text: This Generation is a Fraud / I am a Fraud.

"Words in a Room" reviewed in Revista Arta - by Cristina Bogdan

(Exhibition view, photo by Diana Marincu)

My recent personal show curated by Diana Marincu @ :Baril received a fairly positive reaction.
Read it here.

Un pitic (3/6) - © Mihai IG & Keszeg Agnes