We Wanted

tim etchells - we wanted - 2011 img_2081adjsml.jpg .jpg


New sign work, for Glastonbury Festival – commissioned by Shangri-La and Up Projects. Shown as part of the festival starting this week (Thursday 23rd onwards at Shangri-La Field, Glastonbury). Just back from installing this in a field filled with all the mud you want and more. Will post some more images of the completed work and of the install process – some pretty spectacular climbing from the great team of riggers at Shangri-La.

 

Looking

18 May 2011

Rampling shudders at the memory of watching Angelina Jolie process up the red carpet for Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life the previous evening. "She must have been there 20 minutes. And when I thought about what it meant, being there for all that time, not even speaking, I thought: Well, that’s what I never, ever could do. I know the power of my look, of who I am. And I’ll turn it on for the film or the photo session. But it’s a question of knowing what you can and can’t take. It would burn me. I would be absolutely burned."

Charlotte Rampling, full interview here.

Bio/Narrative by Location

14 May 2011

Mary Shelley’s journal on 19 December 1822, recollecting her years with Percy:

"France–Poverty–a few days of solitude & some uneasiness–A tranquil residence in a beautiful spot–Switzerland–Bath–Marlow–Milan–The Baths of Lucca–Este–Venice–Rome–Naples–Rome & misery–Leghorn–Florence Pisa–Solitude The Williams–The Baths–Pisa–These are the heads of chapters–each containing a tale, romantic beyond romance."

More Quiet Voulme

11 May 2011

After a great run in London as part of the London Word Festival, my interactive library-based collaboration with Ant Hampton, The Quiet Volume, is back in Berlin starting tomorrow in the fabulous Grimm Zentrum – presented within the HAU programme. Shortly afterwards the piece premieres in Polish for Ciudades Paralelas, Warsaw.

Berlin – May 12 – 16, 19 – 23.
Hebbel am Ufer, (Jacob-und-Wilhelm-Grimm-Zentrum), Berlin, Germany.

Warsaw. May 26 – June 3.
Ciudades Paralelas, Warsaw, Poland (Polish language premiere).

There were many great reviews of the piece in London. Small selection of the best – from interval drinks , from The Guardian, and most comprehensive/sharpest once again from Matt Trueman.

The Quiet Volume – Dates

7 March 2011

The collaboration I made last year with Ant Hampton – The Quiet Volume – is coming soon to London, as well as returning to Berlin, then going to both Warsaw and Zurich. It was commissioned by the travelling, site-specific festival Ciudades Paralelas together with Vooruit and consists of a whispered, site-specific autoteatro piece for two people in the silence of a library’s reading room. We’re really happy with how it’s been working so far. In London, the piece will be presented in three libraries as part of the London Word Festival.

Dates and links to further info below. Places are limited so please book asap.

April 8 – May 4 > The Quiet Volume > 3 London Libraries, London Word Festival, UK

Later, in May, TQV will also be returning to the amazing library in Berlin where it premiered, again within the HAU programme (Hebbel am Ufer), before moving a little further east to Warsaw, as part of the full Ciudades Paralelas festival. And then in June, the whole festival moves once more to Zurich.

March 16 – 26 > The Quiet Volume > Vooruit, Festival: The Game Is Up!, Ghent, Belgium

April 8 – May 4 > The Quiet Volume > 3 London Libraries, London Word Festival, UK

May 12 – 16, 19 – 23 > The Quiet Volume > Hebbel am Ufer, (Jacob-und-Wilhelm-Grimm-Zentrum), Berlin, Germany

May 26 – June 3  > The Quiet Volume > Ciudades Paralelas, Warsaw, Poland (Polish language premiere)

June 16 – 26 > The Quiet Volume > Ciudades Paralelas, Schauspielhaus Zürich, Switzerland

Ex Libris

5 March 2011
lcimage_jk225627.jpg

Last night Site Gallery‘s new director Laura Sillars kick-started a project for a library of donated books in the gallery canteen. I worked with Laura to curate a dinner for around 80 people, all of whom brought books to donate, with catering supplied free of charge by the amazing team that run the canteen – P.J. Taste. There were performances (HRH giving out kisses as Frankenstein), speeches (Designers Republic‘s Ian Anderson, also a patron of Site) and a short presentation from artist Penny McCarthy about her work and the book she donated – a copy of The Odyssey.

“Over the next year, we are going to build up a small library of books that will be lodged in the café and which we hope will be read, debated and that will provoke and inspire people. Each book will be chosen by a creative person from Sheffield – to start us off, Site’s patron, Jarvis Cocker has donated Leonard Cohen’s 1963 novel The Favourite Game.”

To close the evening I made a short text – remix/cut-up/cut & paste car crash – combining fragments chosen by other people from the books they’d donated, along with sentences or part sentences from the short comments they’d written about their selections. Below you find the text containing (amongst quite some other things) shards of Calvino, Salinger, Herodotus, Jay Griffiths, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa and of course The ‘Every Action Counts’ Community Champions Handbook’. Enjoy.

1 ounce powdered potassium nitrate, 1/4 ounce minium, 1/2 ounce powdered gum arabic, 1 dram phosphorus, saffron and cardboard
passion, fortune, comedy and tragedy
human frailties, grim personalities, mental suffering, vicious pain, dysfunctional
kindness, healing, love and hope.
take a step. Then another step.
What saves a man [that should be a person] is to take a step. Then another step. always the same step, but you have to take it.

Somebody once asked your dad how long a person would have to live in Marsden before they were no longer ‘comers-in’. Your dad looked him in the eye and said ‘Fifty years, and you’ll be dead then.’

And whose natural state was iridescent disorder? Who were even more unpunctual than the poor? Who by nature were living in a state of such disgraceful enchantment that they thought the hour of now the only possible time? Who – unforgivably – insisted on seeing the purpose of life to be not work but play?
Kids I think, kids would be the answer I guess.

Everyday beauty, the transformational power of the arts and a Polar Bear Suit. innovation, creativity, intelligence and interdependence,
collaboration, kindness and bravery.
Anxiety, Claustrophobia, nose bleeds, and near asphyxiation. , waiting and hoping
low energy lightbulbs, bikes, tractors and informative lists, soft recycled paper, pastel colours, hilarity, poignancy, over-packaged products and shopping bags, proper suits and nice glasses.
Steel workers, lovers, a young man in possession of beetroot, Movie stars And a 13 year-old English girl

The trees are coming into leaf, like something almost being said;
like losing yourself in a very well produced, well scripted superior American TV detective show with characters you can see
“We must do what we can to help ourselves
“We must do what we can to help ourselves

or maybe you will gasp
or like me be Hurt and jolted by the twists and turns of the fiendish plot

The trees coming into leaf, like something almost being said;
And the writing makes you feel the air has become thinner

“Let us try to talk it over calmly, Laura – let us do all in our power
makes you feel the air has become thinner

We take a few photos for Tachia. We all sign the illustrious visitors’ book and then go off in search of the past, so present here.

My name is:

the time for the train’s departure must be very close.

My name is:

Avoid over-packaged products
Use your own shopping bag

she looked lovelier than she ever had when glimpsed in stellar space.

1 ounce powdered potassium nitrate, 1/4 ounce minium,
1/2 ounce slowly disappearing former factories, nightclubs and rivers
passion, comedy and papercraft frailties,
personalities, and sufferings,
kindness and hope.
take a step. Then another step.

What saves a man [should be a person] is take another step.
“The Greeks, just because of a girl from Sparta, raised an army, invaded Asia and destroyed the empire of Priam.”

the time for the train’s departure must be very close.

I remember the day Marilyn Monroe died.
no limits can be set
I remember rainbows that didn’t live up to my expectations.
I remember wondering what the bus driver is thinking about.
no limits can be set
I remember trying to visualize “the travels” of shit, after you flush the toilet.
I remember the dawn.
I remember the rumour that James Dean got off on bodily cigarette burns.
Without looking up
I remember the way a baby’s hand has of folding itself around your finger, as if forever.
Without looking up, the girl said “I’m drawing a picture of God.”

In Raissa, city of sadness, there runs an invisible thread that binds one living being to another for a moment, then unravels, then is stretched again between moving points as it draws new and rapid patterns so that at every second the unhappy city contains a happy city unaware of its own existence.

the dawn of personal computing.
A series of scandalous correspondences
vicious pain, and dysfunctional relationships,
where writing makes you feel the air is thinner
On this table, Joyce, Hardy and Austen can frequently be found
the time for the train’s departure is now very close.

I told her [straight up] that I’d never written a story for anybody,
but that [right now] it seemed like exactly the right just the time to get down to it.
She nodded. “Make it extremely squalid and moving,” she suggested. “Are you at all acquainted with squalor?”
I said not exactly but.. [well…] We shook hands….
“Goodbye,” said Esmé. “I hope you return from the war…”

 

Libya Fragments

2 March 2011

Appointments were made without relevance to merit. A nervous civil service never questioned the coming and goings. At the Interior Ministry I asked the man in the biggest office (with a broken fax machine and no working telephone) if he were the minister.

"Maybe," he replied, adding that he had been last year, then someone else had been appointed while he was still in post, but had subsequently . . . er . . . left town . . . "So, maybe I’m the minister," he added helpfully.

Kate Adie on Gaddafi. More here.

*

"No-one died here," shouts another of the regime’s supporters, addressing a monologue at the visiting reporters. "There are no shortages of food or petrol. It is safe here. There is no violence. Everything is good."

An American colleague is confronted by a man who speaks at him for several minutes pouing out his praise for Colonel Gaddafi. When the man is finally finished, he asks: "Did someone pay you to say that?" The man quickly agrees.

From here.