20/03/2005
Two days my house was open to the public. There was Dutch jazz music, the best wine from Sturovo, all the things I made in the last two months and a lot of people of whom I knew some already.
The mayor wasn’t there, nor was the deputy mayor, the ladies from the local galery, the director from the Culture House, my neighbours from the “selfgovernment” or the journalist from the Hungarian newspaper.* But we didn’t miss them since all the interested people were here.
They came from Bratislava, Budapest, Esztergom and Sturovo. Some were young, some were old, some spoke some English or German, some I couldn’t understand. There was a Slovak man who’s daughter was living in Holland and who could speak a couple of words in Dutch: “mooie kerstboom” (nice christmas tree) and “schakelaar” (switch) . We had a very nice conversation. There was a woman I had never met before who brought me flowers from her own garden.There was a man who had birthmarks on his arm resembling the stellar constellation of Cassiopeia. He posed next to a video of mine showing a hand with a pen drawing lines between the birthmarks on somebodies back. There were two young girls who turned into very helpfull translators. There was a couple bringing us home made cake and local grapa. There were people who didn’t talk, only listened and looked. There were people who didn’t look or listen, only talked.
It was a wonderful weekend and so nice having all them here, but I still don’t have a clue what they think about all this. About the music, the drawings, the videos, the Bridge Guard Residency. Asking straight out doesn’t help. Maybe people are afraid to say something. Maybe having an opinion about art or art presentation isn’t valued highly. When I speak out (always respectful but nevertheless critical) at the openings I attend people also tend not to hear what I’m saying and talk around it. It’s a pity. We could learn from each other
* I found out later there was a journalist present but he didn’t introduce himself as being a journalist. He wrote a piece in the Esztergom newspaper which I am still unable to read, but I’m very curious what he says.
The mayor wasn’t there, nor was the deputy mayor, the ladies from the local galery, the director from the Culture House, my neighbours from the “selfgovernment” or the journalist from the Hungarian newspaper.* But we didn’t miss them since all the interested people were here.
They came from Bratislava, Budapest, Esztergom and Sturovo. Some were young, some were old, some spoke some English or German, some I couldn’t understand. There was a Slovak man who’s daughter was living in Holland and who could speak a couple of words in Dutch: “mooie kerstboom” (nice christmas tree) and “schakelaar” (switch) . We had a very nice conversation. There was a woman I had never met before who brought me flowers from her own garden.There was a man who had birthmarks on his arm resembling the stellar constellation of Cassiopeia. He posed next to a video of mine showing a hand with a pen drawing lines between the birthmarks on somebodies back. There were two young girls who turned into very helpfull translators. There was a couple bringing us home made cake and local grapa. There were people who didn’t talk, only listened and looked. There were people who didn’t look or listen, only talked.
It was a wonderful weekend and so nice having all them here, but I still don’t have a clue what they think about all this. About the music, the drawings, the videos, the Bridge Guard Residency. Asking straight out doesn’t help. Maybe people are afraid to say something. Maybe having an opinion about art or art presentation isn’t valued highly. When I speak out (always respectful but nevertheless critical) at the openings I attend people also tend not to hear what I’m saying and talk around it. It’s a pity. We could learn from each other
* I found out later there was a journalist present but he didn’t introduce himself as being a journalist. He wrote a piece in the Esztergom newspaper which I am still unable to read, but I’m very curious what he says.
posted by monique besten at 12:00 PM
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