On the bus ride from Murpark, Graz Ostbahnhof, a commercial shopping center to Flughaven Wein, the hub of local, regional and international transportation, I reviewed the video of Steven Weiss and Martin and Romana. Of the three interviewees, Romana was the most open, vulnerable and honest about her knowledge, experience in protest and proximity of emotional consequences. The topic of the film is ultra-specific: the ZSK. Between the workflow of logging talking points on the timeline, I realized that, topically, the content was only interesting when an emotion came onto a face, when the camera sat in that moment and when I stopped talking or asking questions. I had been too busy managing the crass logistics of focus, lighting, sound and intelligent questions in response to Martin and Romana's intelligent answers that I had tread over these nascent emotions as they related to the information they were disclosing; I had rushed and by doing so erased what could have been very fascinating footage. The connection between an event and viewer is an expression.
At the Vienna airport I tried to study my Deutsch als fremdsprache grammar book but mostly just imagined the series of facial expressions that Vanesa would give me when she came out of the arrivals gate. Annoyance by Norwegian air; a huff through a few disheveled hairs; rolling eyes at the weight of her luggage; tossing hands up as another exiting passenger loses his way in front of her; a mouth forced ajar by the fatigue of an international red-eye flight. But she just melted with happiness when we found each other in the crowd. The Triple V began.
The OBB to Mitte then to the airbnb in Neubaugasse.
We didn’t care that the host was 15 minutes late to meet us. Or the cold. The apartment had a German toilet, complete with a fecal platform. High ceilings, modernist furniture and malfunctioning thermostat that had been set to "night" during the day and essentially off because of that. Scandi-chic decor and hints of culture.
We went to Backerstrasse to try to see Russell Maltz's exhibition during the opening hours, but the gallery was closed. Next door was the tourist trap restaurant advertised all over the Internet as the best place for Austrian schnitzel: Figlmüller. We had schnitzel, tafelspitz and bier; all of the portions which were too large for a normal person to consume. The horseradish was mild; the schnitzel was dry but we were too happy to see each other to really notice the cuisine was actually the worst in Austria.
Although Vienna has amazing public transportation, we walked home, past Saint Stephen's Cathedral.