Flickor leker två och två
17/03/2021


Extract from Anita Kaya's research:

Mon 27th of April 2020 / 16:03

Concerning: Wytomyśl fruit garden archive

Dear Marta,

thanks a lot for sharing your voice notes, very joyful!

While listening to your first voice note from 15.4.20 I wrote:

“Blackbird singing. Walking and talking about listening to recordings from the past, to grandfather’s stories. I need to know how to listen to it. Thoughts popping up. Relationships - my mother to my grandfather, mine to my mother and my grandfather. The voice of my grandfather got weaker from 2015 to 2018. His voice changed so much in this years, he was almost 90 years old when he died. Bats flying. How to approach this material? Text is visible. Voice notes feel more right. Walking. Reincarnated. Memory research. Cups on the street. Transmigrating soul. Walking. Relation of kinship and time and life and death and memory. I want to learn more about this.”

Hearing you walking: the rhythm of your feet, the sound of touching the ground, rushes of wind mingle with distant engine noises, the rhythm of your breath, sometimes breathless from walking and talking. Pause. Hearing your head turning. Awake and being open for the encounters with other beings. Animals and objects fading in and out between your words. Sensing your movements in public space. Pause. Walking near by you over space and time. Alive.

One story of transmigrating soul arising: When I was at the age of eleven I started to sew like manic. The following years I earned some pocket money by sewing blouses and skirts for my aunts. In the 80-s I made experiments with returns to a previous life, where I was living in Asia, working as a sewer in a manufactory. Maybe the knowledge of previous lives is still present as “talents” in the present life. In 1992 I met Akemi Takeya, a Japanese dancer and choreographer. We made a 5 minutes video-dance work based on the sound of a sewing machine and the interconnectedness over time and space, called HOLLY, HOLLY, HOLLYLUIA. I guess, the VHS-Video is still in the pile of stuff in my sleeping room waiting to be digitalized.

Big hug

Anita

Anitas's notes
Anitas's notes
Anitas's notes
Anitas's notes

24/02/2021


Extract from Alva Willemark's research:

Alva's picture


29/01/2021


Extract from Anna Knutas Blomquist's research:

Anna KB's picture

Anna KB's picture

Anna KB's picture

Anna KB's picture

Anna KB's notes

Anna KB's picture


18/12/2020


Extract from Sybrig Dokter's research:

Over the last weeks Alva and I have been working with assignments for each-other taking into account our archives. But suddenly Alva found herself walking a lot and I spend most of my time at home. It seemed more interesting and relevant to switch perspective and change the nature of the assignments. Her task for me was to write down everything I touched during 1 day.

Touched for Alva 071220

Sybrig's touched

Sybrig's touched

Sybrig's touched

Sybrig's touched

Sybrig's touched

Excerpt from various notes:

Sybrig's december

Sybrig's december

Sybrig's december


12/12/2020


Extract from Alva Willemark's research:

Alva's picture

Alva's picture

Alva's picture


24/11/2020


Extract from Sybrig Dokter's research:

Quest for an archive

As I was getting a bit stuck in deciding which archive I would want to work from, I started with something that has been lying around for some years now. In the 80ties my partner and me were hiking along the Alte Via 5 in the Dolomites. Between Rifugio Bajon and Bivacco Musatti we lost the path and got ourselves on a ridge with a considerable drop underneath us, just holding on with our fingertips. We weren’t able to go up and certainly not down. We easily could have fallen, or frozen into inaction. Somehow we maneuvered ourselves to a ledge that was a bit wider and where from we had the possibility to move up again to where, in the end, we did find the marked path.

Sybrig's note1

We took photos from each-other on the other side of the pass when we knew we were safe. So I took the map and the photos in an attempt to make sense of that feeling. To cut through the time that passed and look into that memory.

Sybrig's note2

It didn’t lead me to choosing it as an archive but the thought of travel and displacement brought me to the action of walking and walks.

‘The walk’ as an archive.

In a project that I initiated and that took place in Minsk (www.lavadans.com) I invited people that lived in a certain neighborhood, to take me for a walk in what they considered to be their neighborhood and talk to me about their memories and thoughts while we were walking. We left traces while we were retracing their past and memories. It created a multi-layered narrative from different angles.

Sybrig's notes

At this moment it is still unclear to me how to let the experience of walking spill out from my own references and have it latch on to or be taken over by other narratives.

I will start by walking.

Sybrig's notes

I have thought about walking as moving from point to point: the repetitiveness; what it feels like in the body; what surroundings one walks in; various types of hikes. The long one, the everyday one, the special one that needs preparations, the one in solitude and the one with others. To leave and to return. Exertion, wounds, sore muscles. Rooting and up-rooting.

Walking as leisure or walking because you must.


5/11/2020


Extract from Anna Jakobsson's research:

Anna's notes

Anna's note

Anna's note


1/11/2020


Extract from Alva Willemark’s research:

Alva’s note

Alva’s note

Alva’s note

Alva’s note

Alva’s note

Alva’s note

Alva’s note

Alva’s note


27/10/2020


Extract from Anna Knutas Blomquist's research:

Anna's notes

Archive of beloved garments and memories of the already worn

Dissecting, exploring and uncovering the real and symbolic insides and what we can not see

The touch and sensation of different materials in the hands and on the body


28/08/2020


Extract from Marta Forsberg’s research:

Wytomyśl is a small village in west central Poland. It has around 500 inhabitants. Its very close to Poznań - which is the city where my mother was born, and where our family used to travel every summer to visit my grandparents, aunts and unkels and all the cousins.

My grandfather was born in Wytomyśl, and I decided to choose his childhood home as the starting point of my inquiry, more specifically the fruit garden that is connected to the house.

Map Wytomyśl