Back at the park the Sardinains translate some of their completed booklets to me and then we picnic on cheeses, bread, chilli and beer. There are 3 cheeses Olivier has brought; a hard cheese similar slightly to peccorino, a soft cheese which is subtle and more like the consistency of brie. Nobody knows what the cheeses are called but Olivier tells us the hard cheese is from a neighbouring town.
It’s much quieter than last night with a few people strolling through. An artist-writer, Domenico, I met last night tells me there was about 400 people at the opening last night. We have a conversation about London that I think we maybe had last night and there’s more pizza brought by one of the Michelas. I think I have OD’d on cheese and crave vegetables, salad and fruit.
There is another snack at 12 on the rugs courtesy of the Sardinians with olives and crisps and a vat of homemade vino bianco which is quite sweet and also refreshing. 2 big dishes of pasta are brought by Luigi and Andrea; one gnocchi dish and another which is like a thick soup. Both are delicious. After dinner we are entertained by first Eduardo and Andrea with singing, guitar and harmonica, then Simone and the other Frenchman’s rendition of some pop/rock classics such as an upbeat Wish You Were Here and some very French songs. Eduardo tries to teach me Harmonica but it’s embarrassing ‘practising’ alongside a French acoustic performance. I can’t sing either so I click my fingers while others clap and Andrea and friend bring percussion with spoons and bottles. Somebody familiar to the group has caused a scene who has a problem with the drink and he is asked to leave. He has thrown a wine bottle into the bush and shouted something probably offensive. It’s interesting watching people’s interactions, conversations and relationships unfold, not knowing most of what is being said. The uplit big green leaves swaying against the black night sky are transfixing, mesmerising. When talking pidgin English-Italian with Eduardo earlier, I had described the videos by Silvio Giordano as mesmerising and he had asked “System of a Down”? From their last album title track. It’s intriguing how some words are picked up through this kind of pop/media reference without necessarily the meaning. I wonder whether the English songs being sung have been learnt through sound and pronunciation only and if so how different / difficult that is compared to having knowledge of the meaning inferred.
02/07/10
The morning is horrible and through all the sole, sudore, prosecco e birra I am dehydrated like a sundried tomato with a dull ache in my head. I eventually get up and shower and head out to the park via the piazza for caffeine fix and pistachio gelati which miraculously cures the hangover. I take a foccacia pomodoro to the park and sit on a bench for a while. Today was forecast rain but there is still glorious sun although a cool breeze coming in might be telling. I’m wondering what do do with my day; whether to go to a nearby village as recommended, go for a swim, or to take the train to Torino and check out the contemporary galleries.
I head to the train station to check train times as I think they’re not so frequent and I need to reinstall the mp3 players which played up last night.
Mondovì is busca 11:28-12:10 TO224 or 11:28-12:10 TO226 returning via busca 15:10-15:50 TO231, 16-20-17:00 TO233, 16:35-17:15 TO235 or 18:00-18:38 and I decide to go tomorrow. I head back to the house to collect my swimming costume and towel. The swimming is €7 and its packed. I do couple of lengths and sit at the edge for a bit. After a while the attendant notices me or my lack of swimming cap which is apparently mandatory, but also in another country or in a shop in town, and I have to get out. Feeling a bit cheated of €7, I change and climb the steep incline up to the main road and home. I slap on the aftersun despite it being only 3 hours before dusk I figure the sun will not be too strong any longer.
The Sardinians have returned and are making fresh books and maps and I help them stamp the maps with the red flag. So it’s beer o’clock again but I need to be back at the park, forgetting that Italian timekeeping is not German, where I think I have only just shifted from and have stopped trying to say danke and auf weidersehen.
Back at the park, no one is immediately available to help with the daily install so I head to the piazza which has a pizza festival on this week. I get a token for a margarita and wish they had a vegetable one. The pizza is very good and I think I have got over my 10 year pizza phobia.
Simone and Michela are at the park and they say they are going to a performance in another town so will miss this evening in the gardens. The speakers are reinstalled by another Frenchman I didn’t get the name of but remember from last night. The projector has reset itself and we have to readjust which my French assistant doesn’t think he can do but Belinda helps translate English and Italian into French and it’s done quickly. Finished, I take the Incitta brochure and walk down the Via Roma which has 9 pieces of work along to Piazza Torina.
I try to find an open shop for some wine and snacks to take to the picnic scheduled later in the gardens but fail miserably and have to go emptyhanded.
01/07/10 continued
The performer of the evening’s live art event is dressed as a black latex gimp and is getting the visitors to blow up yellow balloons (!) and write what they find anger in onto the balloon surface. I draw an aeroplane in the marker pen and am asked to destroy it. I jump on it and it pops loudly.
It’s getting dark and my camera’s white balance in the dusk is not cooperating. I piss about with trying to get the right wb in the dusk light and then the artificial light and get a series of dodgy blue blurry photos.
aliment(e)azione teach me a Sicilian phrase which translates to “the glass is thirsty.”
A boy of about 5 really gets into a game with his shadow on my projection wall. He engages with it as if with the changing projected image his shadow should change with it and he is trying to understand when neither body not pen he holds up move like the prerendered video image.
Getting bored with the camera, I try to take some video footage on the flip and think that I need a tripod for it.
I decide that it’s beer time and go to the festival cafe and take a seat. The musica electronica is quite loud and I don’t think Blah Blah Blah will compete. All around is conversations in a language I don’t understand much of.
A Zoo team member recommends me to go to Saluzo and Alba for the architecture and draws me a map and some directions.
Michela introduces me to a collector who holds himself and dresses like he is royalty, with a smart blazer that he must need to wear to be in the exclusive Collecting Club. In his presence people hush and await for his Word.
I wander around the park and find my adoptive Sardinian family handing out their books. They give me more beer and we take a stroll around the park ending up at Belinda’s crochet workshop. Belinda tries to teach me crochet which I’m terrible at and give up after not even 15 saggy loops. I wander off and see Alfredo who introduces me to the graphic designer of the festival and his daughter of about 10 who teaches me Italian swearing. More drinking with the Sardinians until the festival closes for the night and we go and play on the swings and slide.
We look through the collected books with people’s observations and I try and learn more Italian and expand on my 10 year old friend’s teaching of umbriaco.
We go back to the house and I show 2 of the still awake group some Contents May Vary past expo but Luigi the super-translator has gone to bed and we struggle with tiredness and I decide 3am is bedtime for me.
01/07/10 continued
So, installation complete, I get to check out the town and traverse up and down the main road and piazzas; along to Piazza Torino and back to Piazza Galimberti with some side street detours and finally decide a glass of vino is required.
The wine is delicious and refreshing although in a thimble size measure it looks like a child’s portion. The waitress brings snacks but they look too dry and meaty so I pass and write some more.
Checking in on the installation, I see its still in full flow. A member of the Zoo team points out my text panels are up. We go and see and unfortunately they’re the wrong way around so I have to be an awkward artist and ask to swap them around. The installations around the park are beginning to take shape and I’m excited about the opening and live events scheduled later.
Pop into another bar for more vino bianco frizzante and this time it’s olives for nibbles so I’m happy.
It gets on to 7pm and think I should head back for a final check.
I meet the aliment(e)azione from Sardinia and there is Elisa who has a striking resemblance to Rosie. There is also Luigi who speaks a lot of English and kindly translate a lot for me. We go for a beer and I find the Sardianians enjoy a drink also! They have produced a piece for the festival called Bird Watching which is cool. It consists of 4 watchtowers with binoculars and accompanying these are the collective handing out wee booklets with instructions on the back. Eduardo translates: that I get to keep the elastic band, map and pen; that I should look through the binoculars and write/draw what I see in the booklet. He laughs that they have chosen an English title but have no English translation of the instruzioni.
I draw a scribbled crowd which I see when the 2 Michelas are giving their speeches that I cannot understand much of at all.
I also trip over a sneaky text panel on a stick which has disguised itself amongst the trees. It came of the worse and looks a bit sorry for itself and I try to rectify but fail.
It’s rained, causing minor panic, but it’s cleared the air and not only is a few degrees cooler but feels much fresher and I’m not melting into the seat any more.
The performer of the evening’s live art event is dressed as a black latex gimp and is getting the visitors to blow up yellow balloons (!) and write what they find anger in onto the balloon surface. I draw an aeroplane in the marker pen and am asked to destroy it. I jump on it and it pops loudly.
01/07/10
Slept very well and woke up to conversations I later learnt were with the city official sort of like a mayor or presidente.
Got directions and a map to the Fresia Gardens and set off, wondering if the forecasts of thunderstorms would hold true. Promptly misnavigated, found the swimming pool, grabbed an espresso and took up the super steep >45° path back to the main road. Located the park and set about stamping Blah Blah Blah on the designated pavilion.
Simone arrived to provide tech support and we installed the speakers and mp3 players which tried to pretend they didn’t work and then proceeded to be incredibly quiet on max volume. Simone rescued the situation and increased the volume on the mp3 files and it worked fine so we tried the positioning of the speakers for a while until I decide they should all face outwards opposite to the Static projection.
The ants crawling over the freshly stamped Blah Blah Blah were mesmerising and brought scale and a 2D reality to the surface. Both Michelas said they thought it was beautiful and I was happy. I think they thought the sound piece was bonkers and would drive me mad. Perhaps there’s something in the installation now that’s both attractive and repulsive or inviting and intrusive; the appeal of the visual Blah Blah Blah and the way it leads the eye in peaks and troughs from left to right, and then there’s the audio that’s difficult to pinpoint and distinguish each voice and you cannot just stop hearing like you can choose not to look at the visual, or choose which bit to consume so easily without physically navigating the space.
I learnt from Francesca in Edinburgh that bla bla bla is a very Italian phrase, and I have heard it often, probably more than the UK.
I wondered before, in conversation and selection by Michela how it would translate and now more educated on the matter I am still curious how the mostly Northern and softer Southern English accents and the additional h will be perceived.
I also don’t know what the curators have put in my text panel although Simone who is French attempts the first line for me in English which includes the word “obsession” or a derivative. The projection needs bringing up a little but that can wait til later.
Another artist Ryts Monet (Enrico de Napoli) is clothing a tree with what I understand to be donated/recycled clothing and although more patchwork than regular, I instantly see an affinity with Odd Socks which I’m making again for a show at Manchester Victoria Baths in September. I want to talk to him about it and those parallels and differentiations but I do not speak enough Italian and he does speak enough English. Instead I talk to his girlfriend curator about the pros and cons of being and working with different sizes of organisation.
I feel embarrassed about not knowing much lingua locale which is made worse by a strange compulsion to speak German and I keep entirely forgetting that it’s grazie not danke.
