project

BUBBLE SCORE SESSION #5

12-12 February 2016

PARTICIPANTS

Isabel, Arianna, Lilia, Agnes, Sebastian, Sofia, Aela, Mala, Esteban, Robin

QUESTIONS BY

PERFORMANCE > QUESTION > REPLY

1 Sofia > Lilia > Arianna

2 Isabel > Arianna > Robin

3 Arianna > Isabel > Esteban

4 Agnes > Esteban > Isabel

5 Aela > Agnes > Lilia

6 Lilia > Sofia > Seba

7 Seba > Robin > Mala

8 Robin >  Aela > Sofia

9 Esteban > Mala > Aela

10 Mala > Seba > Agnes

BINGO!

QUESTIONS

1)Sofia > Lilia > Arianna

In Sofia’s score the words became the real and the real became the words. It was a mise-en-abime that caught the moment of the moment. An enhancer of what is there and not perceived at first instance, or too known and ordinary that it gets lost. An invitation to pay attention and re-imagine the ‘we’ we are in that moment. The text, the reader, the group, the room, the other. Certain scores are tuning devices, they create reading parameters for the moment. One writes and reads simultaneously the moment. I find them fascinating, time openers. Was thinking about art strategies that bring us to the present time, to the self and the group, and what do they do terms of responsibility for both the one and the group. I would like to invite you to develop on this issue. Looking forwards to read you!

2) Isabel > Arianna > Robin

Dear Isabel,

it is always a pleasant surprise for me to attend to your proposals. They bring a burst of fresh air, creating the space for both disruption and intimacy.

It is this combination that interests me the most. A strong frontal approach on themes that we most likely wouldn’t talk about otherwise in a group, and the simultaneous capacity to create a space for sharing a certain kind of intimacy.

I see the approach to this intimacy that your propositions bring about as characterized by an activist and militant spirit.

You (one) DIY, you (one) can take things into your (her/his) hands and experiment with them, without forgetting about the material they are made of, and the special care each material requires to be handled with.

In other words: the opening of a space where intimacy is possible in a public way. Even, it is directly born in a public way, and shared, without losing its specificity.

My focus is then in this possibility for activism to be intimate, and for intimacy to be absolutely disruptive, poweful and re-generative, in the sense of the possibility for it to be a tool and a performative situation where to create change not only for the one, but also for many.

2 connected questions:

How to combine activism and self-care?

How to be a wrecker and a flower at the same time?

3) Arianna > Isabel > Esteban

Visibility and invisibility… presence and shadow, light and darkness, a quest of the opposites and in the middle permeable receptors: body and mind mutually observing each other, evidencing a certain spectral condition that binds them together but, that also tears them apart. Is the quality of being spectral inherent to humans and why?

4)Agnes>Esteban>Isabel

Dear Agnes

As I look back on your text/performance I think of gaps… and grammar, my question comes again in the form of a quote:

There will be a writing of the unwritten.

Someday this will happen.

A brief writing without grammar

A writing made solely out of words.

Words without a grammar to support them. Lost

There, written. and inmediately abandoned.

Marguerite Duras, C’est Tout

5) Aela > Agnes > Lilia

Talking upside down about erection has something beautifully desperate and hopeful at the same time. The never giving up attitude affronts the paradox and exhaustion in its quest for the impossible. My question comes along with a song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KjW_I-2fARA and I’m curious: what do you think about eroticism in impotency?

I can just think about eating flowers. Old bouquets from valentine’s day. Today is the day! The celebration of impotency I wish it was the one of eroticism.  This though made me laugh! I’m referring to the consumerism of love. Also yesterday someone posted on Facebook an article about the origine of St. Valentine day. It says: “Those Wild And Crazy Romans From Feb. 13 to 15, the Romans celebrated the feast of Lupercalia. The men sacrificed a goat and a dog, then whipped women with the hides of the animals they had just slain. The Roman romantics “were drunk. They were naked. Young women would actually line up for the men to hit them. They believed this would make them fertile.” I don’t know… this is possibly both eroticism and impotency in a dance macabre.

Eroticism is potency. Eroticism needs response I believe. Impotency is no response. And there we start.

I would like to respond with a letter I wrote to my best friend based on a text by Jean-Luc Nancy : “Stirring stirring up, uprising.”

Brussels, 4 February, 2016

Dear S,

I’ve been wanting to write this letter for some time. We are so apart. Many kilometers separate our physical bodies and though I always feel you are so close. Friendship is an opening to the outside.

Thinking about my work and wanting to be in touch with you about it. In relation to life, work and love, I feel I am propelled in between motion, agitation, desire and rebellion.  Restless. A being alive that doesn’t want to stay still but persists in touching and being touched by the world, that wants to alter it, not with the intension that it becomes something fixed but as a challenge my physical and moral senses. Almost as a paradox this state of mind implies a strong responsible relation to the other (being the other also the non-human other), so somehow it enters the domain of ecology. I feel weak sometimes because too driven, too hopeful engaging in the believe that movement is the only condition of all. Too much expectation I guess.

The movement that there is, is the movement of (e)motion, the one that mobilizes one towards the other and brings along excitement and exaggeration, brings on the transgression. When I write this I feel the drama queen I can be.

On the other hand I also feel that that restlessness is a state of mind, something I can’t get rid off and that wants to join the movement around me. I want to touch! Be in touch! Be touched! It’s like a drug, an addiction, a disease…

Touching shakes up and sets in motion, I think. As soon as I move my body closer to another body (even an inert body made of wood, stone or metal), it feels like I displace it, I move it even if just a tiny little bit, and the other sets me apart, holding me up in a way, I loose myself. Touching acts and reacts at the same time !!!!!. There is no mercy.  . Touching propels and repels — impulsion and repulsion, rhythm of the outside and the inside, of ingestion and indigestion, of the clean and the unclean. It’s strong! Am I going crazy? Did I fall in love?

I’m thinking now in the case of a new born baby.  When K was born, after being contained inside my body,  she reached for me in a survival motion, searching my breast to suck nutrition. . It was one of the most amazing experiences I had. How could she know that I had a breast, that she could suck and that there was milk? She approximates and distances, penetrates and escapes at the same time my body with her body. You know as well as me about this. We both have children, we both bared in our wombs an alien body, feeding from our own blood for later being contained by it. Sucked and pushed away on a motion of relation. An interdependent autonomous symbiosis. An intimacy that is carnal knowledge. The beginning of it all!

The small bodies of our daughters were immersed in our resonating amniotic liquid, that surrounded them inside our bellies. The sounds of our bodies, our heart and our guts, and the sounds of the outside world touched their ears, their closed eyes, their nostrils and their whole infused skin at the same time. The beginning of eroticism. Yet inside there, each possible sensation was still diluted in a dim way, they were too close, in a kind of permanent, quasi-permeable exchange between the outside and the inside.

At birth it all changes, they separated from us, we separated from our mothers. But we still remain this potential thing, floating now not in the amniotic liquid but in the world where everything relates to everything .  Yes, everything strains towards everything and pulls away from everything — but now we are separated there is a gulf between one and another. Crisis!!!! The cruel and exciting reality that only a separated body on its own is able to touch. No contact possible without being apart. Out of reason or passion, striving to connect, to exist. This letter is a getting in touch of the reason. I miss you. Miss talking to you!

Thinking about the sense of pleasure in love and sex, the rhythmic movement and overflow, of the bodies spilling against and into one another, and one setting itself off from the other only to take it up and move in again together in succeeding waves. The separation is the opening of the intercourse. Poetic intimacy. The intercourse isn’t seeking to restore a lack of distinction: it celebrates the distinction! Together, apart, in , out.  It announces a meeting, which precisely is contact. Contact doesn’t cancel the separation –  it makes is apparent on the contrary. Maybe here is where it resides the capacity to receive and the capacity to be affected. In that vulnerability. And affection is first of all passion and the movement of passion, a passion whose very nature is to touch. This is all about mutual action, I think, one can’t receive passively, one is an active receiving mode per se. I like this idea that receptivity is active and not passive, and that when you touch your are being touched and both parties are receivers. It’s an act of generosity, vulnerability and courage. My whole being is contact. My whole being is touch/touching. This is amazing!!

If I say touching is stroking; the caress is the desire and the pleasure to come as close as one can to a skin — be it human, animal, textile or mineral, and so on — and to engage this proximity to play off two skins grappling with each other. This is again a play between the inside and the outside, perhaps the only game there is. Listen, if all playing consists in taking and leaving an area, in opening breaches, filling and voiding places, boxes and schedules, the only game there is is an act of intercourse. Indeed, is there even a desire that hasn’t a desire to touch? Ah, now the world becomes an erotic entity! This is a funny thought!

This means we are open to the outside, open with all our orifices — my ears, eyes, mouth and nostrils, not to mention all the channels of ingestion and digestion, like those of my moods, sweats, thoughts, gaze and much more.  As for the skin, it’s the envelope around these openings, these entries­ and­ exits, which locates and specifies them while at the same time developing for itself this ability to be affected and to have a desire for that. I love the skin. Maybe the skin is the loving organ with all its permeability. It makes us be-come what we are not yet and un-come who we just were.

Now you’d say but what’s the relation between body, politics and touch relate?

Well, at the end, it is always a matter of sensible reality, thus material and vibratory. When the self quivers, it really is quivering, just as one may speak of water about to boil. What we commonly call the self is in fact nothing other than the waking and welcoming — both mixed — of motion/emotion. The self is the touched body — vibrating, receptive and responsive. Its response is the sharing out of the touch, its rise towards it. The body rises up! Maybe in here there is a pre-disposition of the body to be political? Indeed, there is some insurrection (and sometimes some erection) in the motions of touching. A body rises up against its own enclosure, against being locked up within itself, and against its own entropy. It rebels against its death. Whether it is about the coming of another (him or her), or the absolute alteration of death, it is the body that opens up and extends outside. It is its pure act!!!

When i am touched, I have nothing to expect: the touch is all act, in its mobile, vibratory and sudden action. And as for Aristotle’s god, this act is accompanied by its own excess, which is its pleasure, the climax that is the flower or spark of the act — sun or dark- ness, always an abyss.

Would these thoughts make the world a better place? Would the sense of love instigate a relational care beyond personal narcissistic achievement?

Hope you like the reading and looking forward to hear back your thoughts,

Love,

Lilia

The song says:

The rings of Saturn are so sexy and Jupiter’s got that rad spot! Pluto and Eris are just dwarfs but they get me twice as hot Oh planet forms! The solar system really turns me on! I’m floating through your galaxy, your milkway is all over me! I’d spread my legs for Venus and I’d like to live on Mars I’d take Neptune or Uranus or any of the galaxy stars… Oh planet forms! The solar system really turns me on! I’m floating through your galaxy, your milkway is all over me! Mercury is the hottest being closest to the sun and if that gets you hot you know you are not the only one! Oh planet forms! The solar system really turns me on! I’m floating through your galaxy, your milkway is all over me! Oh planet forms! The solar system really turns me on! I’m floating through your galaxy, your milkway is ah ah AH AH!

6) Lilia > Sofia > Seba

Maybe a mask allows a body to become other. It’s such an impressive thing, such a game changer, and it does it so fast. You put the mask on and -damn! who the fuck?-, it works every time. But at the same time that it works, it’s still a mask, and not a human body. If you don’t wear it and leave it hanging on a nail it is clear, it’s just a mask, just the other and not a body. But if you put it on again – damn again, what the fuck?! it’s a body again!-. Maybe a mask allows a body to become two: both a body and not a body. It’s a splitter. It gives you a super-power, and extra-non-body… I don’t know, it’s for you to say: What is a mask? And what is the superpower this mask gives you that you think is most interesting for you to have?

7. Seba > Robin > Mala

Nitrazepam is a hypnotic drug of the benzodiazepine class, indicated for the short-term relief of severe, disabling anxiety and insomnia.[1] It also has sedative and motor-impairing properties,[2] as well as amnestic, anticonvulsant, and skeletal muscle relaxant effects.

Nimetazepam (marketed under brand name Erimin) is an intermediate-acting hypnotic drug which is a benzodiazepine derivative. It was first synthesized by a team at Hoffmann-La Roche in 1962.[1] It possesses hypnotic, anxiolytic, sedative, and skeletal muscle relaxant properties. Nimetazepam is also an anticonvulsant.[2] It is sold in 5 mg tablets known as Erimin. It is generally prescribed for the short-term treatment of severe insomnia in patients who have difficulty falling asleep or maintaining sleep.

Lithium compounds, also known as lithium salts are primarily used as a psychiatric medication. This includes in the treatment of major depressive disorder that does not improve following other antidepressants and bipolar disorder.[1] In these disorders it reduces the risk of suicide.[2] Lithium is taken by mouth.[1]

Dear Seba, I have to admit to not really consciously understanding your performance but there is something so clinical or maybe neutral about the way you list these drugs, And then there is the really representational side of what you did with the drawings.  They serve somehow to set up a narrative, which allows me to tell myself a story:

There was a man who was blocked from his memories by a wall

Part of him was stuck in the past

He recited a list of magical ingredients

This became an incantation, the incantation of the dead head

These were supposed to be the keys to a memory that was blocked

The memory was blocked by a failure to be assimilated

This failure was related to lack of sleep

1st he used a potion in a bottle to sleep

Half of the people in the world used this potion to forget

Ultimately It didn’t work,

The magical ingredients in his incantation were kept in a red box

The magical ingredients gave him temporary sleep

But this sleep was the sleep of the dead

They allowed him to function but he became a zombie

His head was split in 2 and cut off from the rest of himself

He was a basket case

Please consider this story the question

8) Robin >  aela > sofia

Hey Robin,

as I know you would like more feedback, I am gonna try to give as much observation as I can :)

I liked the decalage between what I could describe as an intimate lecture dispositive and the very text which was read. A nice mix between telling a story, a tale and doing it in a formal way…meaning giving awareness of the philosophical side of the tale and challenging imagination in the same way.

Same decalage I could felt by the situation of both characters: being next to each other, responding (in term of tempo) to each other but not really seeing, touching, communicating…just knowing the other is somewhere near you while in the same time, keeping a private and comfortable space.

It was also about interpretation…how each character interprets the silence of the other, the void in between them two…while one thinks it is necessary and peaceful to maintain this quiet void the second wonders if something might be wrong with it…non verbal communication lets space for possibilities of interpretation. The void as the space of the possible…

This issue of interpretation can be found in science…here…meteorology or science fiction…how to rationalise what is seen, observed and how those observations are related to one specific way of perceiving… the limits of perception (here human and something-else-than-human) are also the limits of scientific interpretation of events…

Here comes the issue of point of view…very present in your performance…zooming in…out…at least two different interpretations of the same void, the same non-presence…two different ways of feeling, living and recognising one event (human being perception and observer perception)…plus the song in behind…like a lightly colourful wind that guides imagination of the viewer a bit at side of the lecture dispositive…I felt brought away…in between two possible realities because of that song…

here is my question: Does reality depends necessarily on a common interpretation or the so called reality is never else than a very useful concept we use to hide the fear of not sharing enough, the fear of being alone (in one mind, one body, one universe) ?

Extra question: do you think human being can manage to live with a multitude of different realities (generated by a multitude of different point of view) happening in the same time ?

9) Esteban > Mala > Aela

Dear Esteban,

thank u for yr proposition. i find very interesting the relation between what is represented and what remains invisible (behind the white screen), yet in a way tangible, which affects what we see, what is being performed and what is represented. I am interested in this subtle logic of confluences btw the two (voices, bodies, or states of mind, layers of “text”) and how they affect or destabilise each other. It is as if the two phantasmatic frameworks within one person clash. or perhaps it is the friction between ones own fantasy and the invisible other within ones self that always already invades, tackles, influences one’s own fantasy from behind the white screen. It makes me think of Zizek in his Pervert’s Guide to Cinema (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTcCjNTpecc) where he talks about voice as an “alien intruder” into one’s psychic reality, which in psychoanalytic terms is always displaced, cracked open. thinking, about yr performance, i wander what is then this logic of continuous and perpetual displacement and how it generates yr “cinematic” narratives on stage.

xmala  

10)Mala > Seba > Agnes

Dear Mala,

I was intrigued by the way you used the technique of visualization. The experiences I had up until now were individual ones, even though they happened in a group context. Your session made us verbalize in front of the group the specificity of the impressions, thoughts and affects that were produced by the interaction between your words and our imagination. By sharing all of this with each other, we could see the many individual differences. You also asked some of us to delve a bit deeper into our imagination, in order for us to be more precise when communicating our impressions. Sometimes it also seemed as if you as the interrogator were looking for something yourself, through the imagination of someone else. I wondered what it was, and if you eventually found it!

But this is not a question Agnes could do a lot with… So, here it is: Considering the importance of knowledge production, creativity and innovation for our contemporary economies, shouldn’t we as artists take a more critical stance in regards to the productive and transformative potential of the imagination (‘elsewhere & otherwise’), a capacity often associated with our practices? Should we redefine imagination as something which is not in opposition with continuity, tradition, situated-ness,… Or define a force which can balance its constructive-destructive agency?

Seba

KEYWORDS

fish, displacement, sex, excitable, particles