artist residency

20181216: Art Brunch | LTR

The dimensions of the video on the projector were off, by about 10% in the vertical dimension, making the already difficult act of watching one’s own work even more unbearable. I sat on a bench perpendicular to the screen, meaning everything was distorted, and just looked at the floor while the video played. The edit lasted exactly 20 minutes and anticipated that the audience was largely familiar, even experts, on the topic, which allowed me to omit necessary information, such as “What is the Speicherkanal?” or “What is the relationship between the trees that were cut down for Speicherkanal to be constructed” or “Is the funding of the Speicherkanal a conflict of interest since the hydropower plant paid for half of it, but caused 100% of the Speicherkanal’s necessity?” Instead, I was able to just position different elements and see them playout.

My working direction on the edit was not to produce a final video, but simply a vignette of the most interesting footage I had shot since in Graz. This was a mental leap because a month before I was thinking that I would try to at least treat everything that I filmed prior to the screening, and in a sense make something more “finished.” In that period, I was really preoccupied by the my perceived impossibility of this task, and really it was impossible. Just logging the footage that I shot, prior to the screening would have been very demanding. I was filming even the morning of the day before the screening. When I conceded to myself not to attempt something encyclopedic of my endeavor in Graz, I had a clearer sense of not only what could be done but what I would like to do. This equated roughly to three minutes of my four most compelling interviews, which I had time to work over, and some B-roll. I had over thirty hours of footage and hadn’t even had time to process Joachim, Saubermacher or Walter Felber’s footage.

The film opens on Werner Sprung talking about the air improvement project at the waste treatment plant and how neighbors were complaining about the air quality. The neighbors had wrongly assumed that the treatment plant was exuding horrible smells that were actually being emitted by a neighboring industry. The next shot is Romana Ull talking about the loss of the huchen salmon due to the construction of the hydropower dam, and then cuts to the carp in the hands of the statue at the human rights plaza. Steven Weiss gives the statistic that every year since 1900 a hydropower plant was built or being built in Austria, which was to suggest that this particular project was not an aberration but the norm. Viewers were oriented toward the Speicherkanal by Günter Gruber who was introducing the necessity of the combined sewer storage after the water level will rise when the hydropower plant begins production. He then talks about the need for sewer pipes in order to maintain other urban infrastructure. This was a sort of advance response to Martin’s forthcoming remark. The film cuts to a statue in the Stadtpark of lady justice, blindfolded, with no arms and then cuts back to Romana talking about her experience as an activist and what it was like to see the trees cut down. The film drew from the known public symbols of Graz and, during the edit, I realized it’s opacity was largely contingent on the familiarity of the audience with the visual symbols. It had become an homage to Graz.

After the film, Steve Weiss joined Iris and I in a panel discussion, which quickly became a question and answer session on the verge of public announcements without questions. Most of the questions pertained to things I had learned about the Speicherkanal, inner workings or nuances that weren’t known to the activist community, or my perception of something as an outsider. In a sense, I had been presented as an artists but interpreted as a journalist. Part of the rouse may have been my attempt to answer their scientifically or technically directed questions to the best of my ability, i.e. from memory of what I had learned while making the film. Only one person asked about the video as an artwork.

For the most part I tried to hold the line of a reticent sympathizer. The most controversial thing I said, which is a good indicator of my overall position, since that's what the audience of protester's sought, a position, was that protest is important and has made progress and because of that, this uniquely Austrian situation with the Speicherkanal had been reached. Whereas in the United States and Canada, the ecological protest is occurring at the Dakota Access Pipeline, or the Tar sands, in which corporate-funded paramilitary are exercising force over demonstrators, toward the benefit of a non-renewable resource, in Graz the protesters are fighting against hydropower, which by international standards is considered 'green.' Yes, there is third-party research about the detriment of marine diversity and ecological destruction, but even at COP 24, in Poland, hydropower is held up by the international community of politicians concerned with climate change, as a renewable energy.

Eva had prepared me for the turnout, which was predominantly activists, some of whom, like Betty Baloo, I had encouraged not only to attend, but to subvert the event by passing out pamphlets. The most concerning individual in the audience was Werner Sprung, from Holding Graz. The first question was from Remi, director of ESC, and, as the microphone got passed toward the back of the room, the questions became less interrogatory and more commentary. The toilet rolls acted to break up what could have been a siege of activist negativity that, had it gone unmitigated, would have likely co-opted the entire screening event. These serious, pressing questions, aimed at sharing and anchoring perceived forms of corruption were followed by a mention of gratitude and delivery of a signed toilet roll, which charged a chuckle.

After the talk everyone mingled and the chili vanished before I could make it to the buffet. The turnout was exceptional, I was told by Michael. The most rewarding thing I saw was Steve Weiss and Werner Sprung, two people who thought of each other on the other side of the contest of the Speicherkanal, having what looked to be a fun and friendly conversation.

*

LaTable Ronde is a program of structured, anonymous, invitation-only conversations about a predetermined topic within a closed setting. Iris had helped me organize a talk to commence 90 minutes after my conversation ended. The topic was “Soft Skills.” We re-arranged the chairs and the few outliers who were not privy quietly exited as we began on time. The conversation was slow to start and I was interested to see how it would take off in this setting. I knew about 30% of the group; most of them knew each other.

The most surprising element was the frequent reference to neo-liberals and by the third utterance I realized that I had not heard nor discussed them for over a decade. Was this still a thing here? Hadn’t neo-libs won? That is, the deregulatory, multinational corporations became the old guard and well established and now the question was how to bridge the economies of start-ups, which operate by default within a neoliberal reality, with democratic governance that was more suitable to models of production from the mid-20th century.

I made only two comments, preferring to watch the ecosystem of conversation play out. Stefan Schmitzer made many contributions; he is a verbal thinker. Heidrum explored and advocated for the return of the empathetic. I was happy by the vitality of the talk but skeptical about the affirmations. At the end of the 90 minutes, everyone seemed energized and grateful for participating. Courteous and politely, the afternoon slipped into the dusk.

20181217: Innere Stadt | Schloßberg

Graz Museum's exhibition Schloßberg-Utopien depicted the evolution of the use of the rock, around which Grazers first organized. First as a hill for materials, later a fortress against Napoleonic troops, then dismantled under a treaty with Napoleon. During World War II tunnels were created to offer safety against Allied air raids, and had been envisioned as a subterranean spa, parking lot and entertainment center.

As a modest sign of appreciation, I invited Iris and her boyfriend to Cafe Promenade to formally close our collaboration. Unfortunately, it was closed for a holiday party, so we decided to ascend the Schloßberg. The first bar was completely booked, as was the second. As we ascended higher and higher, the air crisper and the period between words in our conversation more latent. In the most posh restaurant was at the top. We were given a table just near the large, almost panoramic window over the city. The floor plan felt like a 1960s, James Bond, open floor-pan, amorphous, slight tiering so tables further from the window could see over the window seats, but with renovations such as new lights and colors. We ordered a bottle of blaufränkische. Iris had the cheese plate, as the vegetarian options were limited. I had a fish soup and steak. This was the final realization of the Schloßberg.

The conversation quivered between Austria and the US, LA where Iris’s boyfriend had been working for the last year, and Graz. His distaste for LA, beaches and the superficiality of the conversation found in Santa Monica reminded me of the copy of “Moralia Minimal” that was included in Sofa68 at ESC, and the certainty that Adorno, like any person that lived in another country and saw the flaws, shortcomings, rarities, became dissatisfied not only with the foreign land, but heimat as well. It should be noted that Adorno died in Switzerland.

I had imagined the evening as a bookend, or a symbolic gesture of appreciation but walking down the Schloßberg I felt unsatiated. Not because the gesture had been misunderstood, or the symbol misread, but because I realized that actually didn’t want to formally “wrap things up” or express gratitude; I wanted closure. I wanted to hear her personal impact about this project from Iris. I wanted to hear that as it had been to me, for her this had been a journey. By Freiheitsplatz I realized that the voice I wanted to hear not mute not because she had witnessed this project from the informed and interested perspective of an activist–of a Grazer–but that this project was just another murmur in the multi-year endeavor called ‘a job.’ In coming to terms with how little this was, I realized also that I wanted my project to have a relation to the Murkraftwerk; I wanted the project to diminish it, make it smaller, make it only a part of a larger theme. I wanted my video to leave the Mur and see the entire struggle for trees, hydropower and clean water as just an example of the inevitable playing out, a microcosm in which characters were caricatures, words were dialogue and actions were structured into a narrative arc, enjoyed in the compressed duration of a festival film screening.

I was ready to leave.

20181220: Maribor | Riso

Lithopolis is a book of 30 pages comprised of images of the various stones in Graz. Text about the our geological relationship to cities is broken up with images of stones.

“The city is a Stone Age technology, made over with metal and information.”

I printed the book at Risograd, a community studio within Schaumbad, located just off the main lobby. Once a week, they were open to the public, or their public, of zinesters and book artists. The studio was directed by Martin Trollman and Hanna Stein. The first day I was there, an artist from Serbia, who had a just acquired his own Riso, was printing Christmas cards of Jesus, using gold ink. It drew an international crowd.

Riso is a technology that is like letterpress, in that paper is rolled over an inked surface, only the plate is created using a mask that can be digitally burnt. Each drum is a single color and in order to create multiple colors, a page must be run through the machine multiple times. The machine looks like a copy machine. Risograd has four machines, two of which partially work, but complementary to each other. Riso produces a rasterized image, not a photographic duplicate, and, because I printed each page in a single tone, the images of rocks look more like textures than photos, but I liked the aesthetic.

The first day at Risograd I printed my book for about six hours. The title page is black with gold ink; the following pages white with black ink; a few central pages with only stone and no text are black with gold ink; the colophon page is again black with gold ink. In a cross-section view, the book looks layered like geologic structure. For the cover and back, I ordered stone paper made of rock minerals and plastic; it appears like vellum and is waterproof and semi-transparent. I learned about changing the drums, the peculiarities such as multiple pages being picked up by the machine at the same time, meaning the bottom page isn’t printed on. The second day I just trimmed two of the four sides of the pages in order to reduce the size and weight of the paper for travel.

Printing thirty copies cost about 120 € plus a donation. Martin framed the donation as “pay whatever you can; some people pay 5€ and some pay 100€.” I had no idea what this meant in terms of money, so prior to picking up the book, I asked Iris what she suggested: 20€. I paid a total of 150€, or 29€ but Martin said, “If that’s good for you, it’s good for us.” What? I got the sense he was scoffing at my donation, but I said ‘fuck it: if they expected a precise, larger amount, they should have suggested a percentage rather than quantity in previous donations.’

The other strange request was not only a copy of the book for the archive, which at first I was confused as to whether they expected me to pay (ultimately Martin clarified that they did not expect me to pay for it) but a second “finished and bound copy” which I was supposed to donate, again for the archive. I guess this was because I didn’t have time nor materials necessary to finish book while in Graz. I thought it was strange for a community center to request a copy for their archive without sponsoring the production of the work. I sponsored it by paying for it. Archival donations are very common in residency programs, or organizations that may use the works to raise funds, but Martin specified that they do not sell their archive.

*

I met Simon Žlahtič, a curator at Guest Room Maribor in Slovenia, at Cafe Mitte to talk about art, ecology, and the possibility of working together. Maribor had a sister-city relationship between Graz, Lebanon and Serbia; Simon spent lots of time with the artists at Schaumbad. Guest Room Maribor also has a residency program, similar to Das Land Steiermark, which included housing and a stipend.[1] They shared similar interests. Simon told me about a project that they launched in storefront windows to educate the local community about the use of pristine land in Maribor for an industrial plant. The project against which they were protesting had similar aspects to the construction of the Speicherkanal: secret, early planning stages between government and industry; environmental degradation for the benefit of a private company; and the government incentivization based on the promise of jobs and tax money.

We talked for about 90 minutes when Ana, Simon’s partner, arrived to pick up Simon. Simon asked if I would be willing to share my video with him for a screening at Maribor. I agreed, but noted that, like my meeting with Werner Sprung, it seemed that the purpose of the meeting was quite delayed.


[1]Guest Room Maribor http://www.guestroommaribor.si/?fbclid=IwAR3m8dgFG1P2m5lW0r5rwVGpIgidsGVRExbpbI0O76y6Pjmj1UPtiFC2NS0