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Dinner at the 4th
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Jose Alejandro Ramirez Gutierrez.
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Dinner at the 4th
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Now I'm down on my hands and knees and it's so fucking hot! Someonecries, "What are you looking for?” I scream, "The plot, the plot!"
Oh my Lord. Nick Cave and the bad seeds.
OOOOOO
Writing in a collage form, writing with experimental touch and risk takingstrategy -
or: writing as a collage. Some omissions, repetitions, contradictions werecreated and duplicated, as they were present in the work itself. Then, this
writing, instead of being just a text assumes the form of a fragmented essay,
but also the form of a journey that was registered taking into consideration
the notes, memories, reflections and new connections that came up after
completing some of the trips and experiments.
OOOOO4
I’m having dinner at the 4th. There are people talking loudly. Some faces
are impossible to distinguish, however the sound of their voice strikes me
like letters I can read. Other times the voices just become sounds that
remind me of something I cannot fully identify. While holding a cup of
coffee a whisper passes me by; I let it go. Is late at night but there is stillsun in the venue. When I look through the window there’s some snow in
the floor. I see people walking and looking extremely busy. I decide that itis time to go. I walk. Another murmur reaches me. Knowing that I’m
extremely tired, and perhaps is going to be hard to understand the meaningof the word that I just heard, I write it down. Now I’m watching an old
movie. I remember the note. When I read it, it overlaps with the dialogue of the movie: “ If time becomes a place, then innumerable places are available
– the other- is an unusual thing to give someone else’s card”. For a moment
I don’t recognize whose words are resonating in my head, nevertheless thinstrings, like a spider web, connect the former unconnected ideas together.
How many people have used the same ideas and how many ideas havetraveled the same people?
I’m back on my table at the diner. It seems like somebody refurnished the
place or perhaps I have opened a different door. Outside is extremely dark
and is very difficult to discern any shape. Again several noises float in the
air, the music gets mixed with the voices that I recognize and with the
smoke and the heat in the environment. I’m waiting for someone. We
decided to meet in this place because the bartender is usually friendly. It is
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strange but it seems like this place changes every time I look. He arrives
and points out how the new furniture makes it difficult to recognize that we
are actually in the same place we have been before. We look around andstart to name the objects that we remember from the last time we were here.
There’s a calendar. I point a wall, then a chair, then something else.
Strangely they become what we say they are, or at least that’s what we
thought. When we finally get bored, we start talking about a story weremembered from the last time we were in the place. Again, we tell the
story; again he remembers it differently. We discuss it; we agree that ithappened last week, probably on Monday or perhaps on Friday. We agree
that we read the same newspaper; we agree that the event took place in thesame spot. All the descriptions he makes seem from another time. He
describes places that look different but at the same time are the same. We
also assent that we are not imaging anything, it’s all real. We talk about it,we discuss it and finally after a long “give and take” we really don’t know
what to think about it.
Then, we head home. In the street a light rain wets the floor. The facades
make geometrical reflections as we walk through the mirror-fragmented
parts of the city. I think about how those fragments have such a strong
abstract quality. They make you think of different things than those that are
actually being reflected. Sometimes they get mixed with the images of the
windows and then combined they give the impression of a constellation
being formed right there on the street. As we advance I wonder about time
and about where should I go if time becomes like space. My friend tells methat a guy made a movie in which everything I’m thinking about is said in a
nice way. As well, he mentions how the movie title resembles the darkenstreets we’re walking in. Their lack of sun. I tell him that I agree. Next, we
walk in silence.
Later that night I don’t recognize the streets anymore. I’m alone. I standstill trying to see where am I. There is no rain falling anymore and the
distant noise of a train gets mixed with the loud sounds of a television
coming from a house nearby. All that is left is to keep walking. I imagine a
device, a mental device that when it works every step that you make is a
travel in time. Borges wrote: Perhaps the universal history is the history of the diverse intonation of a few metaphors
i.
OOOOO8
A few weeks ago, while riding on a touristy boat in the hardboard of
Rotterdam, I couldn’t stop thinking about the immense and small cycles
that surround us all. No matter if they are made-up or inevitable. From
winter to summer, from little trips to the spinning of the planet, from the
eternal present in soap operas to the immaterial money flows of the
international commerce; impossible connections and dead-ends. Jorge Luis
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Borgesii used the figure of an immense library in which all the possible
knowledge of the universe was contained. He also quoted Pascal in order to
explain the impossibility of complete understanding; the complexity of theworld. Later Robert Smithsoniii used the same quote: “ Nature is an infinite
sphere, whose center is everywhere and whose circumference isnowhere”
iv. When trying to understand the possible implications that
transnational commerce and history can have, I imagined myself in one of the cubicles of Borges library. I wonder what kind of intonation do I have?
In the cubicle in which I am standing, several people are having a cold
drink while going in a white and blue boat. From this spot I can seecontainers filled with merchandise, that done by different hands, now
become commodities. Just beside me I imagine the containers packed with
the plastic pineapples filled with cocaine that arrived to The Rotterdam Portsome months ago. Of the dozen cargo containers with illegal material that
probably enter the port each day, only one container was caught. I imagine
TVs, apples and cars filled with illegal substances moving through the
world. I also imagine the people who made the drugs in a warm jungle in
the middle of nowhere, and then someone sniffing coke in a toilet in
Amsterdam; one cycle. How can these two persons, connected by
merchandise, understand each other, if their realities are so different that
language stops working as in a short-circuit. We could also follow other
facts of the cycle, the possibilities are infinite as infinite are its repetitions,
regressus in infinitum. Facing such a scenario one could only think of
Borges quotation later used by Smithson and now used by me or someoneelse. A chain of people riding the same idea, facing the same paradox: we
are lost in the library filled with labyrinths of words and stairs that point inevery direction. In the library, every glance becomes a connection and a
plot in which all elements organize each other, so infinite variations are possible. They gain significance according to their position. I speculate on
how these mental constructions would look like in the physical world; arethey out there?
We create the plots, mental projections and artifices in which history
introduces little variations in order to make old things or events look new.
The cycles are there embedded in our consciousness of nature; they are partof how we understand the world. Also they can function as a control
mechanism as in the Maya calendar “where a complicated construction
with which a priestly elite ‘in effect controlled what the populace did,thought and felt on any given day’—creating a pre-ordained cyclical
empire-time run by temporal mastersv. Where is our “modern” Maya
calendar? What kind of temporal master can be found in our times? What
kind of temporal perception do we have? Perhaps too complicated
questions, and too complicated answers.
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Are there big differences when one looks at the immense picture of
international commerce from the XV century to now? Can we compare the
commerce of illegal substances with the first economical exchange thatcross the ocean or with other cycles? At the end the real importance is not
located in the objects. As words, legality becomes a movable entity. The
money produced could become the real connection, the keystone,
nevertheless is not the part of the story that interest me. From history booksto the instant CNN productions of truth, somebody else writes our memory.
However, I have the impression that something has gone wrong during this process.
My round trip in the Rotterdam hardboard is soon to be over. The people
next to me take pictures; I take pictures too. The voice on the megaphone
follows: …the port has being used as a connection node for more that sixcenturies. While thinking about what I just heard, I can’t avoid to imagine
traveling on a vessel. The vessel moves in a straight line, then I remember:
the universe is finite but unlimited (I probably heard that line in a movie
which title I can’t remember). It goes perfectly while being over imposed to
Pascal’s quote. The imaginary vessel keeps along with its journey, never
finding an obstacle. If it is true that “the universe is finite but unlimited”
then at some point we will have to repeat our journey. And even tough the
journey is different, we will have the uncanny feeling that history had
repeated it self: a relentless and everlasting déjà vu, a neurotic state of
constant present. Just like in horror zombie movies when at the end we see
a hand rising from the ground, we know that the same story will be madeagain; the sequel already on its wayvi.
After a 75 minutes ride we arrive at the docks of the boat company. The sun
is up in the sky making the pavement so hot that some vapors are creatingfunny shifting shapes in the distance. We have a train to catch. We walk
fast. I took 42 pictures while being in the boat; 42 samples from myimaginary journey.
OOOOO12
Place: Amsterdam central.Coordinates: Latitude: N 52° 22' 42" – Longitude E 4° 54' 5.Time: 13:00 PM, June 27, 2010.
Temperature: Aprox. 27 Celsius.
In the film “Sans Soleil vii
” Christ Marker pointed out how in the 19th
century men came to terms with space; the question of the 20th century is
the coexistence of several concepts of time. I would adventure to suggest
that we haven’t come to terms with neither of those definitions. Time
disrupts space and vice versa, and those intervals affect our capacity to
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define concepts and events, to communicate. I wonder what kind of
consequences this affirmation would have if we take in to consideration
such an strong affirmation like the following: …Time probably appears tous only as one of the various distributive operations that are possible for
the elements that are spread out in spaceviii, the quote was take from a
conference given by Foucault in 1967. Borges also wrote extensively on the
subject: memory, time and space; he also wrote in his prologue for the note“Nueva refutación del tiempoix”: …is the anachronism reduction ad
absurdum of an old system, or worse, the weak artifice of an Argentineanlost in the metaphysics. Robert Smithson admires and used as inspiration
how Borges liked obsolete philosophic systems; they liked the aestheticvalue of those elaborations. I’m trying to create a work that uses abstract
cocepts as a way to read life but also the reverse operation. For me, time is
more than a “distribute operation”, nevertheless for now; the secondconclusion of Borges suits better my needs. The trains goes at 125 Km per
hour.
We are checking the train schedule. The Journey will end up in 45 minutes
at Rotterdam Central. Due to some unexpected delay it will take an
additional 25 minutes to get to the first destination. I have prepared a set of
questions to ask randomly to the people traveling in the train. The
experiment begins. The train advances as we walk through the corridors
looking for people willing to talk to the recording machine. My friend gives
some context to the potential subjects of the interview. We start with a
score, a little set of instructions and information that we all share. We had previously agreed on a specific version of the story. We ask people to talk
about it. From that point they have to improvise, so do we. The goal is toask persons to recreate the last days of an imaginary character that has
strangely disappeared while following some information regarding acontainer filled with illegal merchandise. The other goal is to create a life-
storyx
for a non-existing-fictional character, make him alive thoughdocumentation and speculation. Hopefully we will also created a work-
storyxi that will contain the fictional life-storyxii. As different people answer
the different questions, the one that leave an impression in my mind is:
Who is he/she? As the train gets closer to its destination the responses
change. Now we have two different searches that depend on each other. Onthe one hand, someone is looking for information about drug trafficking; on
the other hand we are creating in the present an imaginary journey
performed by a fictional character that is located in the past. Hopefully,
both will create an expectation that will lead to nothing.
While writing this text I looked at my notebook and I found the following
phrase: “We shape clay into a pot, but is the emptiness inside that holdswhatever we want.” I could not find who originally came up with such an
idea, but for some reason it fits the experiment. In quantum mechanics
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the more we know about the speed of a particle the less we know in an
accurate way about its location: Is asking like measuring? Finally, the train
arrives at Rotterdam. We have gathered several interviews; they will work as instructions in order to reconstruct the story. We get our backpacks and
look for the way out. The station is under construction, is getting really hot.
Place: Rotterdam central.Coordinates: Latitude N 51° 55' 29 – Longitude E 4° 28' 8.
Time: 14:27 PM, June 27, 2010.Temperature: Aprox. 28 Celsi us.
OOOOO14
“The quotation is disguise at its most efficient and perhaps at its mostextreme. Quotation, more over, offers one of the great advantages of
disguise: license to express one self in terms other guise impossible”xiii
Sherry Levine.
OOOOO15
People in the train defined the character. A subject was made from the
reflections of the passengers and what they think of him/her. A plot created
before hand is dissimulating a story already written: a television thriller or a
soap opera character that dies and resurrects as the audience rating lowers.
A character whose leading role does not develop, but instead gets blurred
by the multiple identities and narratives that construct upon nothing. On theway back I pretended to be the journalist, not knowing that I’m soon would
be lost while trying to find. Sometimes I’m a hero, sometimes I gotcompanions, once I became a girl, and another time I got trapped inside a
container and nobody knew that I was in there. Nobody could help me. Iwent to Marcella and to a Hells Angels bar in Amsterdam. I replace the
fable and converted into a multicephalos plot of banalities. Two weeks after I wrote the last sentence I found the following: He search for banalities /…/
their hidden meaning and quality; these small moments and unforeseen passages can be connected with the grand history of the world
xiv.
The train enters a tunnel; I didn’t remember any tunnel before so I realized I
took the wrong line and end up in the airport. As I think of the differentidentities that the journalist adopted in every interview “you make me
giddy” comes to my mind. When time ceases to be linear then infinite times
are possible, I walk time supporting myself on the ideas of other people.
OOOOOOO11
The train has left a trace that could be copy on paper. Later that night I
follow it, I draw it. While looking at it, I think that is actually not that
interesting, then I exaggerate the ellipses that the train painted in the
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ground. Realism is as illusive as fiction. The only advantage with fiction is
that it doesn’t claim to have any truth.
OOOOOOO17
Some days latter I’m reading the transcripts of the interviews. From them
I’m creating a structure with circular time, made of little samples of speculation related to a short event found in a newspaper. While doing it I
am thinking about cycles, time, space, repetition, communication andchance. The cycle of illegal commerce, related to a cycle of a train, related
to a cycle of storytelling made out by the people we cross in our journey.Perhaps mirror cycles. In this circular time the rounded shape was
deformed, now it looks like an ellipse; a dynamic ellipse is a loop that never
repeat it self.
I’m sitting in a sofa listening to the interviews in a language I don’t
understand. Then I read the translations of the interviews. The answers that
were recorded make me think of an unfinished plot that could in fact belong
to any movie. I write the scrip following the instructions that we collected
as samples, as found concepts. My new script for the film misses the point;
it becomes an action movie, a suspense movie and a thriller. So, I follow
my script, I follow the plot, I adapt the idea, I enact the character and I
repeat it until it becomes a mantra, a spell. A sick joke for an impossible
scenario yet happening every day regardless of what we do, an oxymoron.
Again, suspense leading to nothing, suspense that doesn’t provide anyrelive.
OOOOOO19
Extreme slow motion Morse codeSignal erased by the sunlight
Noise in the screen: the distanceCommunication that does not communicate
Lollipop and hot liquid air.
June 25, 2010.
OOOOOO20When I wake, I’m in a little airplane over a vastness of green and yellow
shapes. Sometimes through the tinny windows small lines like slim snakes
reflects the sky. The plane makes a violent drift and out of nothing a little
landing strip appears. The plane lands, the year is 2002.
We are a team of filmmakers gathering material for a video about the
success of the “Plan Colombia”. The camera man ask peasants about how
are they replacing coca plants for other legitimate crops. They timidly
laugh; they are uncomfortable in front of the camera. Cameras are tricky;
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they record the world as it is, but for some reason the world gets
transformed while being recorded, it gets duplicated. Cameras are
indifferent mechanical eyes
xv
. However we use them to produce differentfictions, different degrees of the true.
Later that night. I sit in the sidewalk observing the persons passing by in
front of me. They flow as a torrent of water around the principal square,
again and again. Every time I look is different. I stay there until the soundsof the bugs become the only thing that can be heard. I stand up and think:
if time is a mental process, how can it be shared by thousands of people,even two different menxvi? I remember that Borges wrote that though about
it 64 years ago.
Through the window on the right a toy airplane lies on the frame of the
window, in the background a boat advances shaking the water in the canal.I’m in my studio in Utrecht; the date is July 16, 2010.
Two weeks after we left, one of the major laboratories for processing
Cocaine was found 5 minutes walk from the place in which we were
making interviews. The testimonies taken from the people in the little villa
in Colombia, said that after the eradication of all the coca plants the region
was heading for a time of growth and prosperity. The government hired us.
Left wing guerrillas or right wing mercenaries protected the laboratory.
Happy ending. Hollywood like, and soap opera. The illusion of
development; almost there. Certain regions of the world allow themselvesenormous amounts of cynicism and contradictions at opened air, others
seem to have other subtle mechanisms full of the same cynicism andcontradiction. How do they talk to each other? Again, follow the money,
but since those flows are not interesting me at the moment, I decide tofollow some one else. In the final sequence of Vertigo (1958) “Scottie”,
after revealing the complot that was upon him is unable to change thedestiny that will make fall Judith Barn that was Carlota Valdez that perhaps
was someone else. Another ellipse that does not repeat itself, in a different
guise every time. Suspense leading to nothing. Chris Marker re-enact a
segment of Hitchcock’s Vertigo in the video essay Sans Soleil (1983).
Latter Magnus Bartas re-enact the re-enactment of Chris Marker. In 1993Douglas Gordon produce “24 hours Psycho”, Gordon made Psycho last 24
hours without altering anything else. What is behind this network of
repetitions? I have some clues found on a text written by Sven Luttiquen
and that is related (among other films) to a movie directed by Gus Van
Sant, another re-make of Hitchcock’s Psycho: For precisely by following Hitchcock’s film in a way that could be seen as a ritual repetition of a
historical model, he posses the question of its specify that is, its peculiar combination of relevance and obsolescence… xvii. Also latter in Luttiquen´s
article: If apparent newness can disguise repetition, a literal repetition can
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produce differencexviii. In the video that I’m producing I explore notions of
repetition, ellipses and cycles, but also multiple identities, enactments and
writing. Since the total implications of the work are ahead my grasp, I leaveempty chapters in this text that perhaps will be fill latter. At this stage the
notion of Post-constructionxix of a work-story comes to play a role in the
process. This research is an open process with multiple stages; the video
that is being done is just one of the possible out puts that the research couldhave; perhaps in some months a video essay with more elements will arise.
Perhaps an investigation related to flows of money and desire will beadded. Nevertheless, the present text is an update that tries to make some
sense of the elements that were put into play; it will have constant revisionsthat possibly will also adopt the form of different investigations.
We walk time, we experience time, but time is a really difficult concept todefine. My attempt is not to define time or space, or change and repetition,
since the study of metaphysics have tried to do it for centuries; I would like
to use these old and new systems of knowledge as inspiration, as tools for
reflection. This little theory is tentative and could be abandoned at any
time. Theories like things are also abandoned. That theories are eternal isdoubtful.
xx.
OOOOOO20-2
In a flash-forward, coming back to the interviews and the airplanes flying
over the jungle, some un-material structure is being formed. I didn’t know
back then, but I started to be aware of it now. I repeat what I did severalyears ago giving the repetition a new spirit, a new location and a different
sense. Chris Marker used a technique he calls pilgrimage for theconstruction of his film Sans Soleil, this technique is then used by Barthas
for the construction of his own pieces and as homage to Marker. Accordingto the dictionary pilgrimage is a journey to a place associated with someone
or something well known or respected. I am a pilgrim thought places andideas that I respect and enjoy. I use memory and my self to surf all the
concepts that interest me. Pilgrimage is usually used to purify the spirit, as
meditation, as a tool for reflection.
With out me intervening, the plot becomes a tragedy, a dead end, an actionmovie, a Hallmark classic, any movie. I stop. For some reason I star to like
things that are left un-said.
OOOOOOO21
We have flashlights and we light the structure, we can only see small parts;
my flashlight is small and because of the darkness I get bedazzled quite
easily by what I see; again the library. The initial feeling of dizziness is
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being replaced by a feeling of neutrality. The only way is to keep walking. I
will not judge, I will not to define; nevertheless in every single word I judge
and define, then neutrality must be another illusion.
OOOOOOO23
I construct my score. I follow my score. They improvise. We improvise. It
makes me spin around Holland. I will reduce it to its minimal. I’ll make amovie made out of stills. Fragmented stills and disorganized order. I’ll use
people’s voices. They talk to the recording machine; to the samplingmachine that creates this specific sound text. Borges wrote, that Carlyle
observed, that the universal history is a infinite sacred book in which all men write and read and try to understand, and also are being written.
Borges understood something that I barely see; also, I haven’t read anything
of Carlyle so far. So, I went to the trains to see if it was measurable. If Icould took a sample out of it; of the paramount flow. They wrote a part of
my lifexxi
. It was in another language, and since it was, the analogy goes
beyond the literal meaning. I got lost in the train system. I got lost in the
idea; I liked it. I got multiple answers. I enact multiple characters. I
acknowledge my lack of deepness, my excess of sources, the need to keep
goingxxii
. The inability of making sense of the initial idea related to
commerce and the possibility of art reflecting on politics, but also my need
to keep on trying.
My attempt to make sense of a cargo full of cocaine got confused, but in a
way it got improved. So I leave my studio open to let the mess be, the date26 August 2010. Then, I think about Robert Smithson and “the moment in
which he came to terms with history xxiii
”, and I don’t really know what tosay about it.
I agree, the most demanding task in our time is come to terms with space;
so let time be our personal unit of confusion.
OOOOOOO24
-I whish.
-I want.
-I don’t know.-I sit down.
-I stand up.
OOOOOOO25
A work-story is a concept related to narratives associated to a work of art. I
try to create a work-story make of the life-story of a non-existing character,
link together by a score. The text created begins to disappear; all that’s lefts
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are the quotes, exquisite cadaver, Frankenstein, collage, ugly mixture, real-
life and so on. My existence gets mixed and confused with the narrative I
create. Why am I doing that?
If history is a nightmare written by few, I tried to record a dream like
narrative written by many, a plural messxxiv. Starting from a newspaper cut,
that was life, that now is binary code, that will become an essay and a film:ambivalent, almost not a film, but a room, a projection devise, a mirror, a
cubicle, a physical presence. When the footnotes erase and blur the text,then another kind of text takes control; the author xxv apparently disappears
fade away, but is there by hiding, in disguise, in absence.
From news reports to a movie plot the hero emerges from the testimonies.
In response, I replace it with cycles, with a distorted reflection, with a presence that is not totally there, with my impossibility of an answer, with a
room full of notes, full of questions. A question mark replaces the plot.
There’s no ending and no need to. I doubt if I should remove Nick Cave
quote at the beginning of this note.
“…that is how history advances plugging its memories while unplugging
ones ears.”
Sans Soleil.
OOOOOOO26
The text is no more a commentary for the images than the images areillustration for the text. They are two different series of sequences that
inevitably cross each other and interact now and then. But it would be pointless and tiring to have one confront to the other.
xxvi
Chris Marker.
I’m in the editing room. I have an enormous amount of samples. How toorganize them? How to disorganize them? How to create a cycle, a dynamic
ellipse, a text that repeats it self? I took pictures of movies, I photograph the
screen and the TV set not knowing if I was going to use them. The
soundtrack invades the space in the studio. All I can think of is the months
that took me to be in this room full of material to make a moving picture.Of all the activities that in one way or another brought me to this point.
Something else has change.
I decide to go on the station, again to the trains, just holding the camera; the
more pictures the better, the more pictures out of the time-line the better;
what is left out in the editing room, what we don’t see, unsaid. I tried to
look for the exact framing from the movie I watched, from the movie they
told me. Then I click. Somebody said that memory is the possibility of
forgetting.
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The audiovisual text starts all over, again and again. Two different frames,
a little difference, hold it, delay it, and it becomes different. Borges wroteat the end of his book “Otras inquisiciones” that perhaps the history of
human kind was just the sum a few metaphors.
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Additional Material.Drawings, notes and paper cut-offs.
Paper cut-off from Trouw (Amsterdam newspaper). January 10, 2010.
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Drawing from the project’s notebook.
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Drawing from the project’s notebook.
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Drawing and notes from the project’s notebook.
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Bibliography.
i Jorge Luis Borges, Otras Inquisiciones, La esfera de pascal, P 17. 1960.
iiJorge Luis Borges, The Garden of Forking Paths, The library of Babel.
iiiRoberth Smithson, The collect writings, Entrophy and the new monuments. P 10. 1966.
ivJorge Luis Borges, Otras Inquisiciones, La esfera de pascal, P 17. 1960.
v Sven Luttiquen, The Planet of Re-makes. vi
Ibid. vii
Chris Marker, Sans Solei. DVD. 1983.viii
Michel Foucault. Of Other Spaces, Heterotopias. 1967.ix
Jorge Luis Borges, Otras Inquisiciones, Nueva Refutación del Tiempo. P 235. 1960. x
Magnus Bärtas, You Told Me, PAG 52. 2009.xi
Magnus Bärtas, You Told Me, PAG 45. 2009. xii
Magnus Bärtas, You Told Me, PAG 52. 2009. xiii
Sherry Levine, The picture generation. P 52. 2009. xiv
xiv
Magnus Bärtas, You Told Me, PAG 90. 2009. xv
Roberth Smithson, The collect writings, Entropy and the new monuments. P 373. 1966.xvi
Jorge Luis Borges, Otras Inquisiciones, Nueva refutación del timepo. P 243. 1960. xvii
Sven Luttiquen, The Planet of Re-makes.xviii Ibid. xix
Magnus Bärtas, You Told Me, PAG 58. 2009. xx
Roberth Smithson, The collect writings, Provisional Theory of non-sites P374. 1968. xxi
Mika Hannula, Politics identity and public space, P 75. 2009. xxii
Ibid.
xxiv Mika Hannula, Politics identity and public space, P 75. 2009.
xxvI have not read “the dead of the author by Foucault, yet”.
xxviMagnus Bärtas, You Told Me, PAG 81. 2009.
Additional bibliography:
• Boris Groys, Art of power. 2008.• Nicolas Bourriaud, The Radicant. 2009.
• Sarat Maharaj, Unfinishable Sketch of ‘an unknown object in 4D’:Scenes of Artistic Research.
• Jacques Derrida, Positions. 1972.
• Italo Calvino, Las ciudades invisibles. 1972.
• Craight Owens, The allegorical impulse. October, Vol. 13. (Summer, 1980).
• Rosalind E. Krauss, A Voyage on the North Sea: Art in the Age of the Post-
Medium Condition. 2000.
• Questioning History, Imaging the past in Contemporary Art.
Additional Films and videos.• Sans Solei. (Sunless). Chris Market. 1983.
• Kumiko, Johnnie Walker & The cute. Magnus Bartas. 2007.
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• Madame & Little Boy. 2009,
• Vertigo. Alfred Hitchcock. 1958.
• Psycho. Alfred Hitchcock. 1960.• Solaris. Andrei Tarkovsky. 1958
• Solaris. Steven Soderbergh. 2002.
• Early films of Peter Greenaway. (1973-1978).
Additional music.
• Oh my Lord. Nick Cave and the bad seeds. No more shall we part. 2001 .
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Acknowledgment:
Special thanks to Tiong Ang, Annette W. Balkema, Mika Hannula, Klaas
Hoek, Lisa May Post and Henk Slager for their help, guidance and support.
Thanks to Jessica de Schipper and to all the tutors and lectures.
Special thanks to Engelien Boven for going to the trains to ask people about
a guy she never met.
Thanks to Manuel Borda for all the help creating the sound track for the
video.
Thanks to Natalia Sanchez and my family.
Also thanks to all the classmates, good luck to you all.