The Mike

I admire Neil Gaiman for countless reasons, a minor one being how he deals with public speaking. I speak in public occasionally and I enjoy it (maybe a little too much). It’s scary, granted, but there are techniques to be learnt and the process of learning is always rewarding, then there’s the pleasure of performing, which is something I really hadn’t seen coming, and sometimes people’s eyes go wide just at the right point of your story. Well sometimes that can be a little depressing, because maybe it’s not that you’re a particularly good speaker, it’s just that you have a clueless audience that can be convinced of anything provided that you avoid using the adverb “not” in your entire speech. The next speaker will convince them of the opposite of what you’ve told them anyway.

I’d really like to improve my pauses. Mr. Gaiman masters them. You need pauses of course, to change the rhythm, allow concepts to sink in and so on, but in order to pause effectively, I always need some sort of trick, for example drinking, gesturing, pointing at something on the slide, turning to write something on the whiteboard. If I just pause, I panic. My mind starts to think what if you’re not able to get yourself to speak again, what if the voice doesn’t come out anymore, imagine if this becomes an endless pause and they have to drag you away. So I lose the rhythm, the connection with the audience is gone, I’m afraid I even stare. I know it’s silly. So I just force myself into speaking again, and everything is back to normal.

Here you can listen to Neil Gaiman addressing the University of the Arts Class of 2012. It’s a fantastic speech of course in terms of writing and you probably have already listened to it last week, but please this time note the performance, the output. It’s amazing.

Spring is Peaking

The opening days of Fotografia Europea are going rather well, except for the sultry weather, then the hail threat and now the misty rain. The atmosphere is lovely anyway.

The Panizzi library is displaying one of my favourite photos by Luigi Ghirri. I’m fond of this shot because it was taken 800 meters from my house, while I was sleeping maybe, or reading a book or looking at the snow outside my window, totally unaware.

Still Going On

So you say you’re interested in fabric. It’s everything and all.

Are We Still Going On?, Kaarina Kaikkonen‘s site specific installation at the Collezione Maramotti in Reggio Emilia, has been extended through October, then you should really go.

The former Max Mara factory is a landmark spot for people who grew up here. The first factory to employ so many women during the Sixties, all sporting dashing white overalls and chatting outside on the via Emilia during lunch break.

And back in the Eighties when we kids would ask for something expensive, parents would mock us like this: “Now who do you think you are? Maramotti’s daugther?”

And later, people started to say that in their huge gardens the Maramotti family was keeping domesticated emus. So a friend of mine once stood on the shoulder of another friend to peek over the fence but she got caught by someone inside and she kept going, pretending she was riding a horse.

Kaarina Kaikkonen says her works come alive and tell stories, of her, of people and places. I’m pretty sure she knew everything about our fashion landmark from the second she arrived there.

Personally, I like her work very much. I was so lucky to see pieces in display in Finland and in Italy, so I’m happy this installation is still on. I recommend it. There’s also the cutest making-of video to be watched. The artist is assisted by a team of Max Mara employees and they assemble the installation, in sock-clad feet, while outside it’s all snowy. We had a lot of snow last February so the outskirts of Reggio Emilia, seen from the huge windows of the former Max Mara factory, looked like the outskirts of Helsinki a bit.

I have to tell you that there are no actual emus in the gardens surrounding the former Max Mara factory, and the ladies in dashing white overalls are long gone. We kids are now adults, kind of, visiting contemporary art venues around the world. But in the gardens you can still spot a hare, or maybe a couple of pheasants. And inside you can see many many shirts, a boat full of shirts, a boat full of thrift memories.

Japan and Back

Please meet Minako Abe

and Shinya Sakurai.

Shinya Sakurai currently lives in Italy and has also designed this adorable bird box.

Transavanguardia

I love the Chinatown series from Pizzi Cannella.
One day I’m going to find a dress that falls on me just as the dress in Pizzi Cannella’s world.

Pssst, still there? Do you want to listen to Benedict Cumberbatch singing Candle in the Wind with the voice of Alan Rickman? I’m sure you do.

Silkscreen on Japanese Wrapping Paper

I had completely forgotten about Andy Warhol working with Merce Cunningham during the Seventies, and also about the strapped chair. Luckily last week Base Gallery from Tokyo brought this silkscreen (on Japanese wrapping paper) to Bologna as a reminder.

Paper definitely played a big role in my visit to Artefiera, with the paper kite-like elements of Hashimoto’s works, with this nostalgic warholian piece, and the Einaudi edition of Intinite Jest with a hole through it. I also heard Jonathan Franzen does not like e-books (I don’t even have an opinion about e-books yet, they are completely out of my skyline, they’re just a vague annoyance for now).

Gravity

Three dimensional works (bamboo and rice paper – details) by Jacob Hashimoto, as seen yesterday at Artefiera in Bologna. His current exhibition in NY is called The End of Gravity.

Watching Armada was an enchantment, very soothing, and the mechanics looked fun. But after a few minutes I started to perceive the movement pattern and that was a little sad, it reminded me of Mont Saint Michel where they plan to build a huge device to restore the tidal flow, which went lost over the years with the construction of roads and parking lots.

Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner technischen Reproduzierbarkeit

Se pensiamo ai nostri codici di stesura  elettura dell’immagine, guardando anche all’architettura delle nostre città e agli spazi che viviamo abitualmente, ciaccorgiamo che questi sono segnati molto di più dalla frequentazione e dal rapporto con la pittura piuttosto che dall’immagine ottica. Prendiamo per esempio La città ideale dipinta da Piero della Francesca: è stata un modello per la rappresentazioen  la costruzione di città reali, come piena e per certi versi Sabbioneta.

Luigi Ghirri, Lezioni di fotografia

Chiunque avrà avuto modo di osservare quanto più facile sia cogliere un quadro, o più ancora una scultura o addirittura un’architetura, mediante la fotografia ce non nella reatà. La tentazione di attribuire la ragione di questo fenomeno semplicemente a una decadenza della sensibilità artistica, a una decadenza dei nostri contemporani, è troppo ovvia. Una simile interpretazione è contestata dalla constatazione di quanto, pressapoco contemporanamente all’elaborazione delle tecniche riproduttive, si sia trasformata l’appercezione delle grandi opere. Esse non possono più venir considerate realizzazioni di singoli; sono diventate formazioni collettive, e ciò inmisura tale che la possibilità di assimilarle è addirittura legata alla possibilità di ridurne le dimensioni. In ultima analisi, i metodi di riproduzione meccanica costituiscono una tecnica della riduzione e sono d’aiuto all’uomo nel suo tentativo di dominare opere di cui, senza di essa, non sarebbe più possibile fruire.

Walter Benjamin, “Piccola storia della fotografia“, in L’opera d’arte nell’epoca della sua riproducibilità tecnica

Le domande che l’umanità pone alla natura sono tra l’altro condizionate dallo stadio a cui è giunta la produzione. E’ questo il punto in cui fallisce il positivismo. Nello sviluppo della tecnica esso riconosce i progressi della scienza naturale, ma non i regressi della società.

Walter Benjamin, “Eduard Fuchs, il collezionista e lo storico“, in L’opera d’arte nell’epoca della sua riproducibilità tecnica

Klezmer by Joann Sfar

Again on comics and losing your faith, Yacoov prays for the dead musicians he finds in a wagon in the woods, because If you don’t exist, someone has to think of them.  He doesn’t bury them because he’s scared and because the snow is already doing the job, and he recites the Kaddish for them despite being alone.

In watercolours.

Hana Bi

Last September Shozo Shimamoto had a performance in Reggio Emilia, in front of Palazzo Magnani to open his exhibition Opere 1950-2011 – Oriente e Occidente (Works 1950-2011 – The Est and the West). I wasn’t there unfortunately, but he was described to me as a very zen-looking old gentleman who throws bottles of paint with energy.

One work includes, literally enveloped in paint together with pieces of glass, several leaves fallen on the September day from the trees of the avenue.

I am not fond of fireworks because they’re noisy (but human noise is definitely ok on stage produced by some rock divinity), so this is my wish for you, for a happy new year. Not too noisy, still very colourful.