June 26, 2009
(winner of the Cannes Lions International Advertising Festival 2009)
Yesterday was the first day of the three day event "exhibit: international exhibition of digital art". As it was raining, it took a while for the artists to set the projects up, but eventually they did. In addition to the electronica DJ set, there were some interactive installations.
One was Chris Sugrue's Delicate Boundaries, of which I'm a huge fan.
(I didn't take good documentation, but here is a proper video):
Another was Memo Akten's Body Paint, which was quite a bit of fun to play with, especially with techno and spritz.
My personal tribute to Michael
(back in 2002, NYC Police foresinc artist Stephen Mancusi answered the "what if" we've always had in our minds)
and a joke.
(Argentine Filmmakers Juan Jose Campanella and Fernando Castets place a delicious line in one of the many outstanding scenes of "Son of the Bride". Jump straight to 1:28, if you understand Spanish)
Here is Kingston Trinder, our very own anthropologist! He joined Colors team nearly 5 months ago, long enough to see most of his conceptions about Fabrica change completely. Have a look at his answers and welcome him as our new blogger.
How did you come to learn about Fabrica?
An avid reader of COLORS since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, amongst the tea cups & fish & chips in darling New Zealand, I first heard of Fabrica through the COLORS website. Or something like that. I think. Its quite romantic that. Isn't it?
What have you been doing before now?
Cycling without a helmet in London. I felt devilishly rebellious as a result. I had some mittens, women's mittens, that folded open to reveal your fingers. There were little flowers made from beads on them. Marvelous. I was reading quite a great deal, & as it was very cold, I had a lovely plaid blanket. I did have a job, & then I didn't. Writing puns all day, for a bizaare company that sold flights in fighter jets, & tours of pottery factories. Things everyone needs really. I seem to recall dancing most Fridays, & you could buy six beers for five pounds from the wee shop on the corner. I lived with some lovely lasses who liked to read their fortunes, & mine, most mornings. Usually over a fine cup of chamomile.
Do you feel like you understand Fabrica by now?
I have fleeting moments of suspended disbelief, when I feel I may have a rudimentary grasp of what exactly Fabrica is, & then I realise its all marmalade. Inconsistent at best, but pleasing in the mornings, over toast & tea. Bitter moments & sweet, & a terrible metaphor or two.
If you were to explain to an old aunt what is it that you do here, what would you say?
Immersion. Talk, thought, I'd tell her I was exploring, engaging, sating my curiosities, & learning to learn anew. Optimistically I'd tell her I like to think I'm exchanging in all senses, with some of the most exceptionally people from around the world.
If you could have known all you know by now about Fabrica, would you have come or would you have made a different decision?
There are things of course which trouble me about Fabrica, like anything in the world, but the overwhelming enthusiasm for knowledge & exploration, of self-discovery, excuse a multitude of deficeits. That, & almost daily weeping with laughter at some of the most hilarious things people quietly mention to me means I wouldn't have missed a moment of these amazing idiosyncracies.
So now, what do you expect to get out of this experience?
Perhaps a friend. One would be nice. I'd like to say I've been under the Tuscan sun. Literally. Stroll arm in arm with a beautiful lass through Venice. Cycle through the spring sunshine & have some truly insightful chats with some intriguing, engaging, perceptive & engaged things from around the world. managed a haircut. From Jackie. & Maia. & myself. I think the most important thing is to acquire some more lay anthropological observations, a little more
empathy, & a greater understanding of the self & the other, that one almost inevitably gains through full immersion in a foreign land.
What will you miss from home?
The Jamaicans. I'll always miss the Jamaicans. I really liked sheltering from the miserable weather. Under a plaid blanket, huddled by the radiator, cup of tea in hand. There's something pleasing about taking refuge with friends, indoors, over crumpets & jam. Oddly, I do sincerely miss fish & chips. I think I miss the night buses. That, & the grime, & the exhilaration of a fierce & thunderous city, & the delicious anonymity that only a gargantuan city can bring. That, & wearing Nepalese socks in the hallway. Its just too accursedly hot here, & Nicolo would never approve.
Anything else you'd like to share with us?
When I left my parents' home to seek my fortune, my father said always look after your ankles. They're the only thing between you & the ground, & certain trouble. Wisely observed old bean. Live fast, & die young, I'd say, eyes peeled & ears alive at all times. There's things to be learned all the time. That, & there's always time for a drink & a chat, a time to laugh, which I like, & a time to ponder. Lets swim in the river, & everyone should read The Famous Five as a
Encastrable is a collective of three guys (Antoine Lejolivet, Paul Souviron and Jean-François Barbie) who took up a temporary residency inside a hardware store. Quite brilliant. I should take up a residency inside a coffeeshop.
He bakes, drinks well, speaks proper English and has a sarcastic answer for any question you might have. You won't get more British than Walter, the graphic designer from Bath who has entered the building ages ago, has refused to reply to this interview properly and is now introduced in a lame ichat talk we had one of these days!
could you, in one of those breaks from work we all take every now and again, reply to your interview
you can be monossilabical
can you i chat to me and i will do it
(don't know if this is a word)
so let's do this
we'll ichat now and that's gonna be your interview
is that ok?
monosyllabic is the word
monosyllabic. good thanks
what's the other words you taught me? that day at tocai...
ok. anyway. how did you end up here?
i heard about fabrica through a friend a few years ago, and became interested in the place, when i was asked to come to Fabrica i didn't have to think i knew i had to come.
are you serious?
does it matter
what do you mean if it matters?
of course it matters
"i knew I had to come" doesn't sound like you
also i was a speaker at a lecture where Adam And Ollie where also guest speakers . i really liked the work they presented and spoke to them afterwards about fabrica. they were complimentary about my work and suggested that i should apply
ok the truth
i was offered a job so i didn't need to apply it was so easy and i was bored with the job i had been doing for 4 years so i came
sorry. i had to leave my computer. will read it now
and have you regreted the decision yet?
no, i am enjoying the work and meeting people and living in another country.
you are full of cliches today
it really doesn't sound like you
what is it that you do here?
im sorry i find i hard to write about myself
what do you like writing about them?
Since arriving here i have had sever acid flashbacks. the general drudgery of life has continued and the only saving grace is the lunches.
are you missing englang already?
(is that ok if I go grab a coffee while you write this answer?)
Cider, Brixton, english radio, rain cold, strong Chedder, proper pubs.
do you want to come down for coffee?
yes ill come for coffe
June 16, 2009