Showing posts with label Flaneur. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flaneur. Show all posts

Sunday, 13 March 2011

Merz Flâneuries: Meeting David Medalla

Artists David Medalla and Adam Nankervis have spent the last week retracing the footsteps of Kurt Schwitters, visiting some of the places associated with Schwitters in the North West — including Warth Mill in Bury, described as a ‘claustrophobic terrifying dungeon’, where Schwitters was incarcerated with other artists in 1940, and Elterwater in Cumbria, site of his famous Merz Barn. Schwitters also spent some time in Salford and Manchester so, acting as flaneurs, in the spirit the nineteenth century French dandies who observed the city, the pair have also wandered around Manchester and Salford seeing what these places throw up. The resulting flaneuries, including text and images, will be shown in Tate Britain in two years time for a Schwitters retrospective.

During their visit, they stayed in the bed and breakfast at Islington Mill in Salford, where I had a chat with David. He explained: “We haven’t had any rest. Flaneurie is a French thing that involves walking around noting things, observing them and initiating actions. The end is organic.” He explains that the flaneurie fits in with his work as: “I do a lot of walking around. I’ve done things in the street all over the world — in the slums of India, in Africa, in Latin America." He added that the unpredictable nature of flaneurie is another appeal: "One oscillates between necessity and choice or a combination of both. I enjoy anything and I say yes to everything. A lot of my work is very ironic and totally unpredictable.”

David was born in the Philippines but went to Columbia University in New York, and has lived and worked all over the world. He met Adam in the Chelsea Hotel and they’ve been long-term collaborators but David describes it as more like a ‘dialogue’ because he lives in Bracknell and Adam is currently based in Berlin.

David’s half-century career has been fuelled by chance encounters and impromptu performances, taking “coincidences and chance and uniting them in a curious way”. Particular favourites he reminisces about are Mr Casanova International, a street performance where young men were asked to read sex adverts from the local newspaper, only realising they had taken part in a performance years later when they looked back and remembered and a toy Bambi shitting (photocopied) $100 bills all over Manhattan — an artwork which nearly got him sued by Disney! Spanning performance, land art and kinetic art, he’s also famous for creating hundreds of machines, including sand machines and bubble machines, and sculptures shaped like flowers that close when it’s cold and open when warm, and respond to favourite smells and sounds, such as lovers’ armpits, birds in the morning and jet planes overhead.

His works are often interventions into cities and places, reacting and responding to what’s around. 'Elegies for bendy buses', for example, was inspired when “babies in prams started making very interesting sounds. They were imitating the closing of the doors like a mechanical lullaby”. For one performance, David walked up and down Westminster wearing boxing gloves. “People were depressed about having to go to work on a blue Monday so I punched them. Some would punch me back which was quite terrifying.” For another work called Salute Roma, undertaken when David was homeless, he slept on a different one of Rome’s seven hills on each day of the week.

He’s made a hat, which he puts on during our interview, that he’s built from found objects during his visit: an alphabet in Chinese and English, playing cards arranged in full houses and part of a Salford University student newspaper with the headline ‘Change that’s just too big to fathom’, because he “liked what it said”, which he found during a visit to Salford Museum and Art Gallery. Across the road, David also took inspiration from a Karl Marx quote on the wall of the Working Class Movement Library, reading ‘Philosophy only explains the world. We have to change it’, although he thinks “Marx should have added three words — ‘for the better’.”

He plans to develop the hat further as a performance — “I will stand in front of estate agents in London saying ‘it’s full house’. I think I will be hated by estate agents — they rent even garages out for £1million”— and eventually visit the potteries of Stoke-on-Trent to create a ceramic version.

David has long been a fan of Schwitters’ work, which also crossed genres to encompass everything from collage to sound poetry. He explained: “My take on Schwitters is personal. I really like his work. I stayed in a cheap hotel when I first arrived in Paris and in a gallery two doors away was a very beautiful work by Schwitters — the rusty wheel of a pram called The Sailor, which I didn’t understand and it didn’t look like a sailor to me but I asked the gallery who it was and later I found out a lot about Schwitters."

He continued: "The Merz Barn has had a great influence on artists and on architects, for example Frank Gehry. Eventually they’ll make a musical of Schwitters’ life. His poems are beautiful when they are recited by him, even with old fashioned, amateur recordings.”

David particularly admires Schwitters’ 'transformation and renewal', explaining: “He thought that with the right spirit we can make a new kind of world, he was very optimistic. Schwitters was from a middle class, comfortable family but they [the Nazis] said he was a degenerate artist. He had to flee Germany and was incarcerated but he had that strength. He had to live in the cold in the barn in Cumbria with his wife and no heating except body heat and that’s admirable. That’s a lesson people can take. Human beings can suffer any form of destruction but with the right spirit can transcend it.

“I have a moment of sympathy as I was conceived and born during the second world war and ninety per cent of Manila was bombed during the war but I had an opinion that you could build a better world.”

David thinks it is important to, as he terms it, ‘surf the angst’. He advises: “There are moments when you get angst, despair, worry and fear. Learn how to use the moment and make the most of crisis and calamity.”

The Merz flaneuries project isn’t the first time David has produced work inspired by Schwitters or visited the Merz Barn in Cumbria. Two years ago he did a performance for which participants were given each other’s phone numbers and told to ring each other at midnight on one side of the barn, and recited their favourite vegetables on the other side of the barn, a response to Schwitters moving from Hanover — the city — to Cumbria — the countryside. David explained: "It was a poem, a choral symphony. It started to have a rhythm.”

David has been invited back to Islington Mill for a residency in October, and is interested in the city’s renewal. He visited Manchester for the first time in the 1960s, and remembers “the mills were closing and it was the end of the industrial revolution. There was a feeling of having been bombed (which it had, during WWII).”

He is looking forward to returning: “The new culture is really rising up. It’s amazing. When I come back I hope to do something about Manchester.”

Merz Flaneuries was part of a series of city wide events celebrating the work and legacy of Kurt Schwitters throughout March.

Find out more at www.merzman.co.uk.

Friday, 17 October 2008

The Loiterers Resistance Movement - Loitering with Good Intentions

PSYCHOGEOGRAPHY: mention that to most people and they’ll probably look at you blankly. But a Manchester psychogeographic group offers monthly tours as an alternative to official, Blue Badge guides to the city.

The Loiterers Resistance Movement, a collective of urban explorers “loitering with intent to make Manchester wonderful”, is probably Manchester’s only local history and walking group watched over by the Greek goddess of chaos, Eris, and influenced by the flâneur, a dandy-esque Victorian figure who wandered the city as a detached observer.

Founder Morag Rose complains “modern society is so rigid”. Chaos, on the other hand, “can be a creative force”.Morag explains, “chaos is thought of as scary, but it can be beautiful”.

In a manifesto-esque statement of intent on the internet, The LRM lists its likes and dislikes: “plants growing out of the side of buildings” are good, “gentrification” is bad. The LRM celebrates the “colourful and diverse”.

The movement was born late in 2005, out of the Basement on Lever Street, an anarchist meeting place. It has close links with other Manchester groups such as No Borders, which defends the rights of immigrants and refugees.

Although even most psychogeographers can’t agree what it means, psychogeography has its origins in the Situationist Movement, and the Paris Riots of 1968.

The situationists were concerned with how we relate to and interact with the city emotionally, and how we can disrupt it. They encouraged debate about who is included and excluded in a city, and who can change it.

Psychogeography is a world-wide activity - there is an Australian branch of The LRM, and it also has links to Germany and Belgium.

Psychogeographers dispute the ownership of the city: “the city is made up of a million different stories, and the official history is just one of them”, explains Morag. The city is a public space with the potential for public revolution and change. Loitering, therefore, is a form of political protest.

What does this have to do with modern Manchester? Late Manchester music mogul Tony Wilson was influenced by situationism, and hosted a Situationist International conference at the Hacienda in 1996.

Today, psychogeography is a way of making sure that “the spiritual history of the city” and its “mythical undercurrent”, isn’t forgotten.

The LRM is about dark alleyways and going through doors you’re not supposed to. It’s about serendipity: unearthing the hidden treasures beneath the streets and the forgotten ghosts lurking in those dark alleyways you’re too scared to go down. It’s about social history and the way in which the city’s past residents, such as Friedrich Engels and the mathematician and astrologer John Dee, live on, in places like Chetham’s library.

It’s about finding the courage to visit “places never been before but you’ve always really wanted to, or the places you’ve been too scared to go to”.

Mainly, though, The LRM recommends setting off on a walk where you don’t know where you’re going. The best way to find out more about the city, recommends Morag, is to“stop and look at things, talk to people and ask loads of questions” - like many of us, Morag admits that one of her main motivations is that she’s “really nosy”!

The LRM is also to do with community mapping and remapping the city. Morag is fascinated by ‘DIY mapping’. She says, “ask twenty people how they got to the same place and they’ll all say something different.”

Don't be put off by all the theory, though - Morag says, “it’s nice to get people along who haven’t really thought about psychogeography”.

Whereas the Situationists were often “contradictory” and “used words no-one could understand”, the LRM is open to everybody.

Although the LRM took part in the TRIP (Territories Reimagined: International Perspectives) conference at Metropolitan University in June, Morag stresses that the LRM is “community based – not academic”.

The LRM is an antidote to a city which is “becoming more and more commercial and alienating for people”. Modern life, says Morag, is “stopping people being to engage with what’s around them”.

Morag offers the Free Trade Hall as a particular place that alienates people: “it’s an expensive hotel with an oriental theme, when there could be so much heritage to celebrate there”. Morag adds, “We’re really busy - the whole city is rushing around. People go to work in a job they hate. It’s sad that life revolves around commerce and money”.

If people looked around them, and got rid of their preconceptions, they’d realize that “there’s always more to explore and discover - when you’re looking, you see signs”.

Furthermore, Morag thinks “It’s a shame that regeneration policies centre around shopping”. “People should play and have fun, not just go shopping”. The trouble is sometimes, finding a peaceful or quiet space where that’s possible. The LRM aims to restore the balance.

Although Morag acknowledges it’s “good that cities are always changing”, she bemoans the fact that “regeneration often gets rid of the interesting things”. She stresses that the movement isn’t “anti-progress”, however. They don’t want to “go back to some kind of golden age”.
We should just be thinking about what it is that makes Manchester Manchester.

The LRM sets out to reclaim Manchester, whilst having a lot of fun and “giving people a good time” along the way.

As Morag observes, “everyone loves Manchester for a different reason”, and has “their own sense of history and own stories”.

Past dérives have included a pigeon’s eye view of the city that celebrated the oft-maligned creatures, a stroll based around the ‘lost rivers’ of Manchester, and night time walks.

Morag is delighted when people bring stories with them. Old ladies who went along on the tour of fast-changing Ancoats shared anecdotes like memories of the canals turning frothy with soap from laundry, and reminisced about being threatened with the prospect of a monster called Jenny Greenteeth.

Dérives often throw up myths and legends, such as that of the ice maiden in Salford who became pregnant at a time when it wasn’t socially acceptable and killed herself by jumping off a bridge. She got stuck in ice and people went to look at her. Morag says that this story is probably “half-myth, half fact”. The LRM may itself have created a few urban myths during its existence.

Morag also offers intriguing titbits about Lincoln Square, ‘Umbrella Alley’, just off St. Ann’s Square, and antiquated laws relating to the walking of cows to the city from the outskirts.

One walk took in masonic and sacred architecture, looking at some of Manchester’s most famous buildings, such as the seven-tiered town hall. The LRM also educated walkers about how the Royal Exchange theatre, ‘the biggest room in the world’, was built on different religious ideas using Kabalistic and Rosicrucian dimensions. A caduceus walk explored the origins of the serpentine symbol, which used to be the symbol of medicine, and is seen on lots of banks.

September’s wander was based around CCTV cameras, and considered how being under constant surveillance affects our perception of the city - should we perform for the camera?

Walks start in landmarks such as the John Rylands library, and usually end up in pubs like the British Protection, often taking place on historical date such as May Day and the Winter Solstice.

Morag “never comes away without learning something” on one of her walks – “there’s never a wasted day”.

Morag hopes in the future to do a 'Manchester music tour'. She asks, “who decided Manchester music was all about bands like Oasis, lad bands? What about Manchester’s folk tradition?”.

Morag concludes, “look around you and there’s magic”. Even in the Mancunian rain!