Open Studios

Yesterday SFAI held open studios to show what the current artists-in-residence are working on. Patty and I are at pretty early stages, having only just finished the prep of all the clay we're working with, but had a few things to show. Patty created a small-scale model of a set/landscape concept to play with. We also began building a large-scale structure, and created a clay sheet for me to explore during the open studios, so that the visitors could see what meant, talking about re: movement and clay. We all experimented on this one together, as I hadn't had a chance to try that particular idea yet. I planned to crawl under it to try to move beneath the surface, then break through, manipulating it almost like clothing; in fact it ripped too easily, so it eluded me, but was a great illustration of the principle of having to follow where the material takes one. We may try again, perhaps with longer fibers to keep the clay from tearing so easily.

Today we mixed clay. We began by pouring water into two garbage pails and discovering that they leaked. So we went back to the hardware store to get contractor-strength garbage bags, and also got a box of Calgon to act as a deflocculant, which basically allows the water to hold more clay particles, as I understand it. We added two buckets of microbubbles (thank you, 3M!) to two buckets of water, then two tablespoons of Calgon (Ocean Breeze scented). To one bucket we then added about a quart of small nylon fibers especially manufactured for ceramics. These, we hope, will allow the clay to be more flexible and enable us to build higher in order to create a large enough clay structure for me to interact with (the microbubbles will make it much lighter, also helping reach the same goal).

We brought the barrels outside and began to add the clay powder. When using the bubbles and the clay powders, we wear our $50 respirators, bought at Empire Lumber and Hardware, which has been in business in Santa Fe for I think 80 years. It used to sell guns, and the store is decorated with the heads of trophies from around the world, all shot by the original owner of the store (they say).

I changed into battle gear and stepped into the barrel to try mixing the clay with my legs, to see what the clay would feel like as it thickened and to experience moving in it at its different stages. By the time the second barrel was mixed I was pretty tired, and it began to thunderstorm . . . we poured the clays, one with fibers added, one without, into the pools we had created the day before from garden pool edging and canvas. Notwithstanding the rain, this should help the clay dry a bit before we wedge it tomorrow with help from students from the ceramics program, led by Susan Yung, at St. Michael's College, where SFAI is housed. My back is sore tonight.

Getting a handle on things

Today we started experimenting with ways to make a Rachel-sized clay structure to interact with. The challenge is to create something with enough structural integrity not to completely collapse, and not so heavy that it crushes me underneath it. Patty taught me how to pull tall shapes (the same way potters make handles, apparently) that eventually we will put together. So I spent the morning wedging clay and pulling these forms, scaring the workmen who came in to fix the lights. We'll be a hit at open studios next week.

Santa Fe Arts Institute, September 2007

Patty Rosenblatt and I are installed in the Santa Fe Arts Institute in Santa Fe, New Mexico. There are 10 artists-in-residence here, three novelists, a photographer, and four visual artists using various media. It's a beautiful space, and as a duo requiring a sink, we have a large studio with tons of light. For the moment we are working mostly side-by-side, and I'm learning about clay by watching Patty's process; we're getting ideas that we can later transfer to a larger scale, but that of course brings a new set of problems in terms of weight and structural integrity of the clay. To that end, Patty was able to secure a donation from 3M of microbubbles - microscopic glass spheres that look like a fine white powder and get added to clay - the resulting clay can be as light as meringue. Patty is experimenting with different proportions - I'm mixing up clay powder, water, and bubbles with my feet to get a feel for the materials. One interesting side-effect is the drying of some of these materials on the skin - almost reptilian.

Progress in Poland

Yesterday the rehearsal went much better. Agata unleashed her fury and everyone got into line. It is difficult without a couple of extra "rehearsal directors" to keep everyone organized, working, and engaged! But today the dancers had more movement to work with, as we have finally developed the basic structure of the piece. We tried the crocheted masks for the first time as well, to give them a chance to know what it feels like to have their faces covered. It looked amazing. We also found out we have a 15-piece teen band who will be playing for us. It is going to be an adventure. . .

We have been spending a lot of time with the performers from Sudan. They are very interested in Agata's crocheting, saying that it is also a traditional African art. Yesterday one woman braided Agata's hair as Agata crocheted, and pretty soon everyone was involved. (The pictures are not uploading propersly so when there is more time I will redo them . . .)

Creating the piece

We've started working with the dancers. The festival has "given" us 14 dancers to work with who are students attending the festival. In return for working with us (thus missing a few classes) they get a discounted rate. Doesn't speak much to the value of what we're offering! But it's helpful to us, so . . .

It is a big group to work with and because we are trying something new (as usual) it is a bit chaotic and the dancers don't really trust us. If you show uncertainty people think you just don't know what you are doing. Which to a certain extent is true, but they don't know that we eventually will get somewhere. We are rehearsing in a different place than where the final show will be, which is one complication; we are just figuring out how the unraveling will work, which is another; and the movements, as usual are not "dance-y" in a way that the students expect, so they think it is not interesting. We have one dancer who is a bit older than the others (29) and has her own company, so she tends to make up a lot of movement for everyone. We told them that their suggestions are welcome, but she has desided that means she can rechoreograph the bits she isn't happy with. We had a brief talk with her yesterday, but I had forgotten that in the middle of trying to figure out what the piece is going to be and how to deal with the fabric and yarn, we have to negotiate with all the dancers personalities as well! That is always an important part of the whole process, of course - we just have such a short time to create something interesting, that we are somewhat dependent on the good will of the participants. It is going to be a challenge for everyone.

Auschwitz

Yesterday we drove to Auschwitz. The entire town was taken over by Germans during WWII and an old Polish army barracks was made into, first, a prison camp for Polish political prisoners, and later, an extermination camp. I can't really figure out what to write.

Krakow

We took the train to Krakow on Thursday. Krakow is beautiful, there was not as much bombing there during WWII as the other cities. Although Agata told me that Warsaw was rebuilt by looking at old documents and photographs, quite an amazing feat.

We walked to the old Jewish quarter and back to the ventrqal marketplace, where most of the action is. It's very lively, surrounded by bars and restaurants with chairs outdoors, and you get offers to tour the city by horse and carriage, bicycle, tram, go-cart, or Segue. Young people thrust flyers in your hand every five meters. Agata bought us a delicious mountain cheese being hawked on the street that has a smoky, salty taste and crumbly texture and comes in a small mottled brown lump with intricate designs in the outside.

We saw the dragon outside the Wawel, I think the castle/palace during thle long period that Krakow was the capital of Poland. Legend is that a terrible dragon lived in the palace that demanded 12 youg girls (i.e. , virgins) each year from the villagers. A heroic shoemaker developed a plan to poison the dragon by somehow wrapping a sheep carcass around poisoned meat. The dragon ate it and his mouth burned so much as a result of the poison that before he died he drank most of teh surrounding waterways, so only one river remains.

The city is an odd mixture of old and new. A modern statue of the dragon sits at the base of the palace hill; a small bronze plaque tells you that if you send a text message to a certain address, the dragon will breathe fire for you (for PLN1). We decide it is worth the price and text the dragon. The dragon replies in a text, and we wait. We wait, and wait, and wait - and give up. Later, when we are up at the top of the palace grounds, we look down and see a tour group of cyclists looking expectantly at the dragon. We expect they, too, have been robbed of PLN1.

While Agata went to visit her great aunt, I went to the local Museum of Archaeology to learn something about prehistoric Poland - they have an exhibit about Poland from prehistory through 1200. It's quite interesting, expecially as I seem to know and think about Poland only from World War II onwards. Salt, amber, and flint were the main exports from Krakow through the 13th century. Now, Agata says, I have to fill the gap between 1200 and 1940.

Fabric

Today we measured out the fabric that I brought to Poland from Materials for the Arts - all 25+ kilos of it. I brought very few actual clothes; most of my luggage was fabric and yarn for the installation.

We measured the marketplace - from one side to another, lamppost to lamppost, was 170 of my shoes. (We needed this measurement because we will be stretching fabric from one side to the other.) So we took the suitcase out to the grass in front of Agata's apartment building and laid out all the fabric, then found a broomstick, which measured 4.5 of my shoes, and used the broomstick to measure the fabric. We found that we had quite a bit - 80 times the broomstick. But we still needed more, so Agata's brother Jacek drove us to a shopping area where there were several fabric wholesalers. Agata struck a deal with the first; he offered PLN2.5 per meter if we didn;t need a receipt. The second place had black lining for PLN1.70 per meter, but we wanted grey, not black. The third place, where Agata had spoken to the manager on the phone the day before, took a few tries to find. But it was worth it- they had several grey fabrics, one for PLN1 per meter, anthe others for PLN2 per meter. We bought about 150 meters, for a total of PLN200. Art is so glamorous.

Racoco in Poland

Visual artist Olek and I are in Kochowice, Poland, staying at her parents' house in Kochowice (see photo; sorry it's sideways, it looks right after 7 shots of Luksosawa). We have eaten several home-cooked meals and drunk several beers and bottles of vodka in the 36 hours I have been here -- all research.

Today when we looked on the internet to find the hours Auschwitz was open and in searching for means of transportation the name of Agata's grandfather's name, Zygmund Pyzik, popped up on the screen, with his date of birth, and date of his death at the camp. It was a solemn moment - I think Agata was surprised to see the name and information there. She knew the story, but it was a shock to have it in front of her. She told the story to me:

It seems her mother's father had a twin brother, who was caught by police selling black market food and supplies. They took his identification away. Because he had to continue working, he took his brother's identification. He was caught a second time, and this time sent to Auschwitz. Her grandfather had a very difficult time getting a job for a while after the war - he was officially dead.

The area where she lives has an interesting history, many of the men who lived here were soldiers in the German army during the war, which has led to some tensions, but also to many leaving for jobs in Germany. The main source of employment here is the coal mines, but jobs are difficult to get. Both of Agata's parents work there, although now her father is retired.

We spent the afternoon in Katowice, the big town nearby, and partly wandered, partly looked for musicians who would perform with us (on July 1, at the central Bytom marketplace, see r.h. photo). We spoke to a bartender at one of Agata's favorite bars, who makes delicious hot beer - a concoction a bit like mulled wine with spices and other alcohols mixed in. He gave us the numbers of several possible musicians and also suggested we go to the local music academy. So we wandered over to find it to post a notice on the bulletin board. It has been difficult to find musicians who do not want to be paid, and paid quite a lot - especially if one is coming from the USA, one is expected to have money. Sadly, this is not always the case. . .

However, we finally were able to get in touch by phone with one of Agata's favorite bands, Koalaband, a group that sings blues and African-based melodies and rhythms but singing in the Silesian dialect. We are meeting them for drinks tomorrow in a nearby town. They seem very bizarre, so we have high hopes that they might be interested in what we are doing. . .

well, one of the boys from the kitchen just woke me up early to make sure I gave him and the others their tip money while his boss was sleeping - seems the tips don't go to to them if the boss is awake . . .the money thing is really difficult to deal with in India, it is so much more direct and the numbers all seem like nonsense when you try to go back and forth between the currencies and headspaces . . ..

Orcha was a beautiful city filled with temples just plonked down in the middle of the people, shops, cows, goats, and dogs. Almost everyone, children in particular, say hello or namaste; some ask for school pen or chocolate but when we say no they smile and ask where from. At dusk we get beset by a group of children pleading to have their photo taken; after several attempts they drag us to a small dirt patch and demonstrate their cricket skills. One does a cartwheel and asks me to do the same - I would comply, give them something to laugh about but I can't figure out how to do it without my skirt ending up around my neck. The ringleader, the cartwheel girl, who is a real firecracker, starts to dance with me. When I dance, she drags me over to a nearby doorway and pulls me into a living room with a surprised mother and two other children; they flip around the channels to find a good music video and then she and I dance various styles of different eras and cultures . . .she is particularly good at swing, and she dances with Patty when I get tired and then Jill, and then with one of the other girls. Others poke their heads in and laugh at us; there is much laughing and dancing and photo-taking and we finally extricate ourselves into the quiet black night.

We sit on the patio of our hotel in cast iron chairs that weigh several tons and drink beer and then watch the man making bread in the tandoor below. He sees us watching and starts to throw the dough in the air like a pizza, laughing; one falls to the ground and he stops making eye contact, I guess deciding he’d better focus on the task at hand.

In Khajuraho Schrat and I have reached a point of familiarity that we spend several minutes before getting into our adjacent beds chasing and killing mosquitoes and flies in our underwear. The banging and oaths and laughter must drift directly through the thin walls and the other guests must be wondering what’s going on; maybe they are performing the same ritual. WE sleep well, that night, no buzzing or bites.

The fort at Orcha is imposing and beautiful; I look for a place to throw away the packaging from my batteries and a man at the gate offers to do it for me; he takes the cardboard and plastic from me and drops it over the stairs into a pile of detritus on the ground below. Gill has read in her guidebook the suggestion to travelers that they bury their rubbish to prevent the animals from finding and eating it – the writers seem not to be aware that the animals actually survive on the rubbish and we’re actually helping them by leaving it easily accessible.

We refuse the offers for a guide but then once inside the fort one offers to show us the rooms that were the King’s and his wives’; he unlocks them and the insides are painted with fantastic murals of Krishna and Hanuman and elephants and beautiful women; the colors still vibrant and stunning. Sometimes the guides really can show you things you wouldn’t see without them. One offers to take me underground where the king’s soldiers were housed; he shows me the toilet, the central, low room where water collected, and one room with a hole where sunlight streamed through.

We drive to Khajuraho; I see a man making a basket, standing inside it as he works to use his feet as anchors; later I see a cow, eating a basket in basically the same posture. Everything is circular here.

Traveling

The past couple of weeks have flown by; Navina and Patty and I did a final "exploration"/performance in an empty stepwell at Sanskriti, creating a set from clays in different states (dry powder, slip, and wet clay) and different colors (a rich red ocher, a mustardy yellow ocher, a pink terra cotta, and a white china clay) and improvised. I was very sick with a cold of some kind, and felt extremely dizzy, so was a bit limited, but we got some great photos.

I was down for the count for a couple of days but also have been going to various wedding activities for my coworker Meera, who happened to be getting married while I was in New Delhi. The wedding was gorgeous; I also went to the henna ceremony the day before and joined the women in getting our hands decorated with henna.

Today we are at the Taj hotel in Gwalior. We are taking a weeklong trip to see some of the temples of Gwalior, Orcha, and Khajuraho. We have a wonderful driver, Sanjit, who is Sikh, but once we got to Gwalior removed his turban. I'm trying to find out why but so far haven't had much luck. We spent the morning at the fort and temples of Gwalior and had a 12-year old guide named Sunil, who also tried to teach me some Hindi but I've forgotten most of it I'm afraid. We were able to clamber all over the fort's walls, and entered a Sikh temple. Following Sunil's lead, we knelt to receive some kind of offering from the priest inside, which Sunil said was something to eat. I was a bit nervous about eating it, so I was relieved when Sunil fed his to the fish in the pool outside . . .

Tomorrow we will drive to Orcha. We return to Delhi in time for Holi, the festival of colors, and then Monday we fly back to New York.

Puppets

Wednesday we had a treat of a demonstration of a Rajasthan puppet show, part of a larger exhibition of Indian puppet styles.

Sunday, the Sanskriti Foundation hosted a memorial for the dancer and choreographer Chandraleka, with audio eulogies by several of her contemporaries in various fields.

The Kendra

Patty and I arrived at the Sanskriti kendra, which is about 15 km southwest of New Delhi. It's a beautiful spot and fairly tranquil, with some very interesting visiting artists from Australia, the US, and England primarily, with one woman from Pakistan. No Indian artists, which is a bit disappointing, but there is a workshop this week that seems to have some Delhi artists participating. Most of the artists visiting are clay artists. We each have a spartan but light-flooded studio and small bedroom. Three times a day the guys in the kitchen ring a bell to tell us a meal is ready and we all come running. The food is quite amazing.

In town, there has been a three-day festival of Kathak dance and music, celebrating the birthday of the guru of our third collaborator, Navina Jafa. We have seen some amazing singers, dancers, and tabla players. It is a treat to get such an immersion in the dance style, and see the many subtleties.

racoco in India

While Rachel is in India, she'll post photos and updates about her collaboration with clay artist Patty Rosenblatt and Kathak dancer Navina Jafa here.