I did not have any particular expectations. I tried to be open. But I really did not expect to be moved, touched. But I was. And that was lovely. The very first thing that happened when I walked through the door, was that two hands stretched out to me through a curtain. I put my hands in those two hands and there was a moment of stillness. The hands did not want anything from me. They just were there. A transmission of a sensuous dimension occurred.
A strong atmosphere of acceptance was present throughout the three days and two nights I was at Boarding school. The idea that time needs time, was aloud. Waiting, in presence and without possibility to escape, was an enriching part of the daily life. I came as a Visiting researcher. The challenge of exploring the intersection between education, art and activism attracted me. At the preparatory meeting my poetic self came back to me; the old forgotten clown who was buried deep within. I knew I had to awake my clown, but I was a bit afraid, it was a long time ago.
I wanted to explore how to do a workshop in the intersection of the three areas. I asked myself – what do I want to learn more about? An idea took form. Education: learning more about this female philosopher Hanna Arendt that I would call a brave activist. Art: through imagination, movements and dramatizing explore bodily and sensuous responses. Activism: what does this means for our daily lives? And then, how can my poetic self, my clown relate to this? The clown is an image of our inner child; having trust in other people, in herself, in the world. Someone that fails, braking things, stumbles – but always raises again, making people come together laughing and playing. These were my thoughts I brought to Boarding school.
I brought some black and white pictures of Hannah Arendt with me, and some black fabric. In a state of inviting my spontaneity and creativity I nailed the fabric round my bed, to have some privacy in the huge dormitory. I tore the edges round the pictures and nailed them to the fabric. Looking at the pictures of Hannah, this female activist who fled Hitler and concentration camp and became a famous philosopher – I suddenly had a strong feeling of being a prisoner in a camp, looking round at all the beds in the dormitory. My imagination continued to move my thoughts around. I looked at the trunk I brought, belonging to my son who inherited it from my father to carry his favourite accordion in. It is a special trunk. Looking at it gave me an idea how to use it in my workshop. This process of creativity reminded me of important things. I realized I lost some of it in my work at the university. I made a decision to bring it back.
The sister came to visit me, in our dialogue she formulated an important question that became central for my whole visit; how can we surrender to play without loosing our critical thinking?
15-10-08 The Playmate
A haze of steam shimmered and shone as it climbed it way from the morning grass toward the warmth of the sun. It was an excellent way for children to clean their feet; cooling their soles as the as they walked on what felt like the softest and greenest…
On the hour that inhabitation infinity came to an end, my time device stopped working. I will not archive it. I will not repair it. I will keep it and wear it around my ankle as a reminder of what I experinced and learned doing the magical time in the…