ARTISTS TALKING

# 11 [19 November 2008]

Recently I've been working on the rushes I made at the sites of the camps - particularly Argeles.

Being totally absorbed by editing on the computer and the creative process seems so far removed from walking and recording at the sites and even more distanced from the events that occurred at these places - but that's the nature of making art.

Viewing the videos frame by frame is very exciting as the random zooms of the vegetation, soil, sand, rocks etc grab my attention for the first time. At this stage I suppose I view the videos as a series of stills and I am constantly working out which stills would work independently to the videos, it is not until I work on the sound that I see these groups of stills as a coherent whole.

So, that's the stage I'm at now - working on the sound, editing the actual noise I encountered whilst recording: my footsteps, the zip of the camera case jingling, breathing, birds singing, waves crashing . . . ; one particular sound I'm looking forward to playing with is that of a wire fence twanging (technical term) in the wind.

http://www.jonathan-moss.com/

# 12 [2 December 2008]

After a long wait I've received the large format negatives that Peter Watkins kindly took for me at the camp on a blustery night last month - we projected my videos stills on to the walls of the huts.

The photos of the projections on the exterior of the huts have a strange, eerie quality, projected light contrasts with natural disappearing light. It is as if the scene was a stage-set illuminated by stage lighting. I have yet to print the images, but have a few ideas how they can be presented. 

The images which strike me most, though, are those of projections on the interior walls - decaying, peeling paint has been worn by 70 years of dripping water; vertical lines made by the rivulets dominate what seems at a glance to be a flat surface.

http://www.jonathan-moss.com/

# 13 [23 February 2009]

I came across a quote from 'The Journal of Rivesaltes' written on August 9th, 1942 by a Red Cross worker at the camp (Friedel Bohny-Reiter); it describes interns being loaded into cattle wagons headed for Auschwitz and links well with the section of this blog (October 14th) which is going to appear in the a-n magazine next month.

"...Torrid heat at the camp. The barbed wire, tightly strung around K and F blocks, is oppressing. The moans of the tormented still linger in the air. I see them filing out of their barracks, panting under the weight of their belongings. The guards are beside them. Lining up for the role call. Waiting for hours in a field in the sun. Then the trucks arrive to take them to the rail roads. They get off the trucks in two rows, between the guards, and climb on the cattle cars. Some hesitant, others apathetic, others defiantly, heads held high.

This goes on for hours until all are crammed into the cars where the heat is suffocating. I recognise certain faces through the bars. Calling out one last request, or thanking.

At every door, two guards.

I look at the faces. Even despair has disappeared from these aged, ashen, doleful faces.

From the last car we hear "goodbye . . ."

http://www.jonathan-moss.com/

# 14 [23 February 2009]

Winter here has been particularly hard, cutting wood and frequently loading the fire has figured highly, but strangely for this time of year has been eclipsed by trips to Berlin and London for exhibitions and screenings and an exciting collaboration with a composer who lives up the road.

Blaise Merino, the composer, is the bassist for what could be described as a thrash-metal trio. He has locked himself away for the winter and focusing on his own work. I emailed a video to him before Christmas as we had previously talked of a collaboration - he finished the piece yesterday. I visited him, not too sure what to expect. There is definitely throbbing bass, but echoing the rhythm of my footsteps and syncopated juxtaposition of frames. Crackles and distortion give way to hypnotising waves of sound. It's refreshing to work with someone in tune with what I'm doing and sympathetic to the visuals. I plan to upload it to my new website (www.jonathan-moss.com).

I've also found time to start a new series of paintings (sounds like a luxury bonus in the daily routine of things) - I'm basing the images on the wall textures of the huts. Weathered surfaces and drips revealing the passage of time are dominating the work. I intend to spend a day at the camp this week to draw and paint to feed into the process of making.

The wind is strong here at the moment. I'm not looking forward to sitting in a ruined hut waiting for it to crumble around me - they've stood for 70 years, but recently some of the rooves have been partially removed which could have weakened the remaining structure, so I'll probably wait till the wind has died down.

 I 

# 15 [3 March 2009]

Ottica TV is going to have a screening tomorrow night at The Better Bankside Centre, 18 Great Guildford Street (corner of Zoar Street behind Tate Modern), London, SE1. Ten minute movie shorts by a selection of international artists. From 6.00 - 9.00.

They are going to screen RQV2, the first video-walk I made at the camp. 

http://www.jonathan-moss.com/

# 16 [6 March 2009]

It was snowing in our village this morning, so I thought I'd escape with my baby daughter, Emilie, to warmer climes. Armed with A-N magazine I was prepared for a morning of catching up on the art world, drinking coffee and rocking Emilie to sleep. The café was bustling with locals gossiping and drinking Pastis.

An hour in to my quality time with Emilie an acquaintance walked in with his wife. We had met a few times and discovered a common interest in "religious" art and the Modern Painters magazine of Peter Fuller's day. He asked me how my work was going, I told him about this blog on the camp at Rivesaltes – at this, his wife, Suse, nonchalantly said, "My father was held there when the war ended". I was quite taken aback... Here I am making work at a site whose history is far removed from me sitting in a café reading and entertaining my daughter whilst escaping the snow. It turns out that her father was a German soldier in Russia at the end of the war; he was sent to Rivesaltes as it was a large camp that could hold thousands of prisoners. She explained how he was a pacifist and caught up (as were so many) in the Nazi regime. As a prisoner -of -war it was a difficult time, but locals took pity and gave him food through the fence.

It was by coincidence that she ended up living in the same part of France. When she first came to the area, she visited the town of Rivesaltes, went to a café, and asked about the camp, the place fell silent and she realised that it was not a subject that they wished to discuss. 

I now want to find out if the camp was run by the same French (locals from the nearby town) who worked at the camp during 1942 when so many Jews were held there.

I told Suse about the blog which she seemed keen to read. So, Suse, I hope that you don't mind me recounting our encounter and I look forward to talking more in depth with you.  

http://www.jonathan-moss.com/

# 17 [16 March 2009]

Yesterday I started another collaboration with a photographer friend (Chris Webb) who is going to organise a joint show of work made at the camp for the Wirksworth Festival.

I was quite shocked to find most of the huts on Ilot F (the section reserved by the Conseil General for the memorial) to be rubble - the result of a huge storm we had on January 24th, winds were over 100 miles an hour. The hut from which Peter Watkins and I projected my videos has disappeared, the yellow wall photographed by Peter and featured in post 12, 2nd Dec has also gone. Most of the Red Cross hut has fallen, including the painted 'red cross' and the word 'Entrée'. The school room, with children's murals, is now also rubble - I am pleased that I had the opportunity to photograph these before the storm.

I don't know if it can be described as a morbid fascination or not, but I found the afternoon inspirational. As I guided Chris around the camp the aroma of thyme filled the air as we trampled across the scrub - I went with the intention of drawing tree trunks for a new series of paintings but ended up photographing sun shining on the decaying walls of one of the still-standing huts, painted yellow again with fissures revealing white lime, new and old graffiti and crumbling plaster.

Some of the graffiti was recent ('tags' made since this part of the camp has been accessible to budding Basquiats) but some looked pre-60s and older. I discovered a small drawing of a couple wearing striped tunics - could this be from the war? I need to do more research. In fact I have just ordered a book of photos which were taken here during 1942 and a book of records from that period - lists of those held at the camps of this area and those who were sent to Auschwitz. Chris photographed a Star of David which was gouged into one of the walls.

I made a short video of the shadow of a tree rhythmically moving on the wall which was a glimpse of beauty amidst the heavy oppression of the past.

Chris took lots of photos as night fell, illuminating the exterior of the red cross hut with a torch, the result was suitably eerie. 

We popped in to a bar on our way back - the atmosphere was subdued, it wasn't until later that we realised France had just lost the rugby to Les Anglais. 

http://www.jonathan-moss.com/

# 18 [14 April 2009]

I've spent the last month researching Vichy France, the Holocaust in France and finding the odd respite in painting. To be honest it got me down a bit.

I've been reading original documents from 1942, notices sent to Mayors regarding reporting the Jews living in their towns in order for them to be sent to Rivesaltes and then on to Auschwitz, letters from the Bishop of Toulouse pleading for innocent people not to be interned in the camps, records of those sent to Auschwitz.

One thing that really struck me was that many of the Jews interned in the camps were refugees and were genuinely seeking refuge on their journey away from the anti-semitism of Germany - so at the start of the war they voluntarily stayed at the camps, as the war continued it became harder for them to have a day-pass to leave for the day, have food vouchers and have visitors; in 1942 their liberty was taken away and most of them were sent to Auschwitz. A Nazi collaborator in Petain's government, Laval (who Petain attempted to fire), arranged to send the Jews of occupied and free France to the extermination camps as part of the Final Solution.

I watched Shoah, which is a ten hour documentary made in 1985, made up entirely of interviews of Holocaust survivors, extermination camp guards and local residents who lived next to the camps - powerful stuff (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shoah_%28film%29 ). The director and interviewer, Claude Lanzmann, pressed the same questions again and again and would not relent until the interviewees went into great detail regarding the events. What came over strongly was the continuing anti-semitism in Europe. I thought that this spoke strongly about the feelings of those of a certain age who had lived during the war . . . However, I've had two shocking encounters recently.

I was eating at a friend's house last week. One of the other guests asked on which landscape my work was based - I started to enthusiastically tell him about Rivesaltes, he just stared at me and said that he didn't understand why Jews still go on about the Holocaust . . . I was taken aback, (he went on to explain that he was brought up living next to a camp) - this was the first time I've come across a view such as this. The following day a middle-aged French lady visited my studio, the same question was asked and I explained that I make work based on walking through the ruins and across the scrub of the camp - her response was of bewilderment: "Why make work on the theme of the Holocaust? That's in the past".

http://www.jonathan-moss.com/

# 19 [14 April 2009]

I read this week in a journal on French cultural matters for ex-pats (which I would normally avoid) that the Holocaust in France is a taboo subject, which I now know to be true . . . I'm still trying for that elusive show in France of my work based at Rivesaltes - it's probably too close to home, strange how, as a nation, they have not come to terms with their recent history. I won't be deterred though.

I am showing my videos and paintings in a barn next month with three other artists from the area: Sam Sweeting, a performance artist, Blaise Merino, the musician I have recently collaborated with and Paola Di Prima, an installation artist - it's a privilege to show with them. We've hi-jacked a local organic farm festival - I was in two minds to explain my work or not, but have now decided to include my statement and photos of the camp as part of the exhibition; I will find the visitors' responses interesting (I might even secretly record them).

I've just finished some prototypes for a show later in the year, sand on aluminium, I'll show them in the barn on the 1st May. 

http://www.jonathan-moss.com/

# 20 [1 May 2009]

I woke at 7.00 to create an installation in a friend's barn as part of the "De Ferme en Ferme" (an open day for organic farms in the area) with three other artists.

The sheep were milked at 8.00, so I couldn't set up until they had left the barn. When I arrived the smell of sheep-shit was overwhelming, still steaming. This must have been the coldest and wettest day we have had in a long time - the barn might be warm and cosy for the sheep, but I was freezing. The roof leaked and many of the drips landed exactly where I wanted to place the screen, simple solution, hang a bucket over it to catch them.

The barn was dark, so I exploited this: two spots gave a warm light, the paintings on metal seemed to glow from behind as the light hit them whilst they swung in the wind, which incessantly hurtled through.

The afternoon was quite entertaining, following a long May-Day lunch many visitors were just a little intoxicated, some rolling about in the hay (pulling cables), some singing and others just giggling - a unique experience amidst my videos and paintings. Many stumbled at the fact that the videos were shown on an equal level to the paintings, so I decided that it would have been too much to expect them to be open to the origin of the work, I therefore didn't include a written explanation. Amidst questions about technique and "how long did that take you?", there were thankfully several visitors who took the time to be absorbed in the atmosphere I had created and took an interest in the underlying theme. A French friend told me that this blog, the research and creative work that I'm doing is important, which was refreshing to hear.

The sound of my videos filled the barn; Andi, the farmer, had been recorded milking the sheep, so, in the background, a calming, repetitive and quite meditative sound complemented my installation; I feel though, that it would have been good for the sheep to be roaming in and out, bleating and causing mayhem amidst the cables and lights.

The sheep were milked again at 6.00, so, following the final visitors I had to pack up pretty quickly.

http://www.jonathan-moss.com/