SWEAT

Sweat is the new film by Elsa Brès, who filmed most of it during her stay with Deltaworkers in 2019.

Sweat premieres at FIDMarseille on the 23rd of July 2020.

Counting, walking, getting lost, then dissolving into the landscape. Such is the movement in which Elsa Brès involves us in Sweat, a film shot in the Mississippi delta. At the very beginning, at the pace of a walker, the mischievously incomplete count of steps, captured in fragments. A scansion that is both a recollection of the first mapping of the delta (as suggested by the outfit), and an elementary impulse to measure the world. An opening gesture that the film quickly erases to better go with the flow, drift, and immerse us into the meanderings of the river, between flood tides and overflowing. We drift from one nameless place to the next, following tributaries, through a luxurious nature, bearing scars of human presence and exploitation, like the gigantic oil complex we catch a glimpse of. Through this both sensorial and mental journey, between yesterday and today, while alluding to fruitless fights to try and tame the elements (flood, swarms of insects), the film gives prominence to brief encounters, either with men or animals. An invitation to let ourselves be absorbed into the very matter of a space with unstable contours, made of indecisively drawn banks, like so many convergence lines. Thus, Sweat draws the passage from a charted area to the shapeless, from the ridged map to the smooth space, to borrow Gilles Deleuze’s words. And here we are, plunged into an environment teeming with the noise of its inhabitants, rustling like so many cautionary news about the excesses of a delta that is lived-in, oozy, sweaty, as indicated by the title, like a body, a living organism. (Nicolas Féodoroff, from FIDMarseille catalogue)

Original version : English, French.
Subtitles : French, English.
Script : Elsa Brès.
Photography : Elsa Brès.
Editing : Elsa Brès.
Music : Méryll Ampe.
Sound : Elsa Brès, Maxence Ciekawy, Rémi Mencucci.
Casting : Liam Conway, Alanna Maureen Geare, Libbie Allen, Chase Mathey, Telltales Collective, William Jackson.
Production : Parkadia (Elise Florenty & Clémentine Roy).
Distribution : Elsa Brès.

You Don’t Need Nothing

Each writer that joins Deltaworkers in the residency with support from the Dutch Literature Fund gets the possibility to publish a short text, long poem, or expert from one of their novels. During their reading events, we usually hand them out to the audience. But sadly, we didn’t find the moment to share the last three we published with y’all yet due to Covid-19 restrictions. The three publications are by Dean Bowen (DW2019) with GRIS GRIS, Nhung Dam (DW2020) with A Thousand Fathers, and Frank Keizer (DW2020) with Sweet Bad Thing.

As an additional gesture to share what our visual art residents have been working on during the lockdown, we present a fourth publication, You Don’t Need Nothing, (limited edition) with inspired contributions by Artun Alaska Arasli, Carly Rose Bedford, Inas Halabi, Maggie McWilliams, and Siegmar Zacharias.

Mouthways

On Wednesday, June 17th, Carly Rose Bedford will present Mouthways: a 48hr sequence of transmissions from the swamps of the Atchafalaya Basin. 
These will be uploaded live via Instagram stories, to join follow Carly Rose and Deltaworkers.

Carly Rose Bedford is a multidisciplinary artist (AU/NL) whose practice consists of performance, sculpture, research and curation. 

[The inner rooms fade to darkness…]

Thursday May 21st, 7pm at Chateau Curioso (641 Caffin Avenue) and online through instagram live: https://www.instagram.com/deltaworkers/
The day after we share the documentation online too.

A reading of the initial bits of a reworked “A Streetcar Named Desire” written from the perspective of the house it takes place in. A monologue that has no escape route. Performed by Xavier Juarez, possibly with live music.

Artun Alaska Arasli (1987, Ankara) is an artist who lives in and works from Amsterdam, NL. He graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academie in 2011, and later attended the Staedelschule in Frankfurt am Main. He was a resident at the Van Eyck Academie in 2019. Arasli has had solo exhibitions at Kantine in Brussels, Rozenstraat in Amsterdam and The Tip in Frankfurt am Main. He regularly curates exhibitions, most recently “Parallax” at Wilfried Lentz Rotterdam and “Porcupine” at Van Eyck Academie in Maastricht (both 2019). In 2016 he has written and directed a theater play, The Beauty Commission, that premiered at the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam.
http://www.artunalaska.com/

Xavier studied film at Columbia College Chicago. He has lived in New Orleans for eight years pursuing photography, video and theatre. He is a brilliant actor and director.

THE MUMMKE PITT

For the Corona Cookbook by Markus Miessen and Lena Mahr, Deltaworkers contributed a cocktail that has it’s roots in the history of creating cocktails during each residency season, brought to perfection during the Covid-19 lockdown.

The Mummke Pitt
Mix in tall glass:
1,5 shot Vodka?
1/2 Grapefruit ?
1/2 organic Lemon 
4 thin slices of organic Ginger from Whole Paycheck
6 fresh Black Mulberries 
3 slices of Jalapeño Pepper
Dash of Bitters ?
Pinch Black pepper
Steens to taste ?
Shake of red ‘Slap ya Mama’ ?

Mix all ingredients together, stir, add ice to fill glass, and stir again. Wash hands with Florida Water before serving The Mummke Pitt. Canoe down any bayou?, one alligator distance apart. 

?any not too sweet vodka is fine
?Louisiana Pink Grapefruit
? Underberg 
? Sugar Cane Syrup
? Authentic Cajun Seasoning
?“Bayou” originated from the First Nation Choctaw word “bayok”, which refers to a small stream. The current spelling of the word comes from the Louisiana French variation of the word “bayouque.”

The Mummke Pitt is offered to you by the 2020 Deltaworkers New Orleans Corona Cohort: Artun Alaska Arasli, Carly Rose Bedford, Nhung Dam, Maaike Gouwenberg, Inas Halabi, Maggie McWilliams, Siegmar Zacharias, Jeff & Sugar the ??, and six ??????.

Bonus limerick from local New Orleans musician and friend Tom McDermott ?

Some people think I’m a goof; 
others might say I’m aloof.
Now, I’ve assistance:
with new “social distance”
it’s easy to confound the truth. 

Download the full cookbook here.

SLOW VIOLENCE (Tracing the Invisible)

A film in real time.
A loosely scripted bike ride with stopping points in Holy Cross

To confront slow violence is to take up, in all its temporal complexity, the politics of the visible and the invisible. What happens when we are unsighted, when what extends before us in the space and time that we most deeply inhabit, remains invisible? Through geographic journeys and encounters, the launching of a (online) space becomes a (temporary) form to engage with the present (for the future), and explore how film can bring the unseen out of the shadows.

Inas Halabi, born in 1988, is an artist and filmmaker from Jerusalem, Palestine. Her practice is concerned with how social and political forms of power are manifested and the impact that suppressed or overlooked histories have on contemporary life.

Visit www.tracingtheinvisible.film for more information.
Follow Deltaworkers on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/deltaworkers/) and join us for the live event on Thursday the 14th of May at 5pm NOLA time (midnight A’dam).

A Collective Note taking Here and There

Online reading with Deltaworkers resident Frank Keizer, New Orleans writer Skye Jackson, and poet Kelly Harris.

Thursday May 7th, 2020, at 2pm New Orleans / 9pm Amsterdam
Zoom in here

Youtube documentation here

Kelly Harris received her MFA in Creative Writing from Lesley University in Cambridge, Mass. She has received fellowships from the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown and Cave Canem. She recently completed her tenure as guest poetry editor for Bayou Magazine at the University of New Orleans.
Her debut poetry collection, Freedom Knows My Name, is set for release next month.

Skye Jackson was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana. She holds an English degree from LSU and a JD from Mississippi College School of Law. She is currently an MFA candidate in poetry at the University of New Orleans Creative Writing Workshop where she serves as an Associate Poetry Editor of Bayou Magazine. Her work has appeared in the Delta Literary Journal and Thought Catalog. She was recently a featured author in Rigorous: a journal for people of color and has work forthcoming from the Xavier Review. Her prize-winning chapbook, A Faster Grave, was published in May 2019 by Antenna Press. An interview about the collection is forthcoming in the New Delta Review. In March 2020, she was awarded the Vasser Miller Poetry Prize. She is currently an instructor at the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts, where she teaches poetry to young artists.

Frank Keizer (NL) is a poet, critic and editor. He is the author of Onder normale omstandigheden (Under Normal Circumstances, 2016) and Lief slecht ding (Sweet Bad Thing, 2019). His current writing project Hot Autumn revolves around the crisis of current political, historical, ecological and literary imaginaries, and the urgent need to develop critical languages situated between science, theory and literary writing that respond to this crisis.

Frank Keizers residency is supported by the Dutch Literature Fund

Spring Training, at the Muck Studies Dept.

by Geo Wyeth

Stupid smile in my new Nikes,
down by the river that
My ancestors linked
to the stars.

I say, I’m grateful for the money and
the time and then I cry boo hoo.
Green totems stacked on my (male) brain
with (white) glue (matter),
Keep it high up so
That Master can see
I’m pretty enough
To move my legs
For a living, and I love
to be alive but that
Part’s mine. The
trucks pass by and
Must think I’m crazy I’m
Running
Really Running
Until I fly and
the stars waterfall out
the sky

Into the water.
Running while
Crying
A freshwater whale
Song
next to the water,
Cry like
Diamondback
shake
Picking up silver
Foil and enjoying myself way
Too much, crystal
Sweat and
Heavy cursing under
Smoker’s breath
that’s my secret Propaganda,
It’s what I have
I can’t throw it away because
that’s how I was raised
To be more than
I am.

Knowing those
Dirty constellations.
What stars in the dirt? My
Finger pull
At small scrubby weeds, part
Gray flakes from
Eczema I got
served for
Free.
For free!
Next to my lover’s
profile picture
I place a piece of
it.

I don’t need to
Go to Natchez, my
Bitches, I
Only know the Olu Dara
song about love and that’s
Enough telescoping
For me.

I make
Friends with
Weapons I’m not
surprised, I know
All
About
It and
I’m on their
Side.

When I
Meet with the man from Shell
I play
it like I’m mad
I wear sunglasses
And slurp my
Iced coffee that
He ordered for
Me.
It feels weird cause really
I have a car
And I love TV and the
Smell of gasoline but
I don’t mind
wearing horror makeup
Almost ever it makes
me feel more
like myself
Disarms people
In power
I let them think I’m a
Dumb Faggot
I’m more of a
Lost lesbian
Goblin.

When I meet
Wilma, dirt chemist,
Heavy blue
Blankets behind her
Lids
Roaming through gas and listening for dogs in
The River,
I say, I got too scared to go in above my shins.
She knows
Trouble from God gonna
Get in, above my waist one
Day and it’s okay to
get angry sometimes and
Kick a door in and say
DARNIT and be
pulled apart by the dust
from Old Stars and
Be technical about things
I only heard about on the
Internet and
In Bars.
Learn to
Defend yourself
Love yourself in
Front of
Some MAGA
Men driving
Too fast down
the highway near
The plant
by your
House, where your
grandchildren are sleeping
where you are supposed
To feel safe, where
Surround is
an appropriate
tactic of
Mourning and
Retaliation, she
Sweet syrup pink skin and
tired eyes, she say
DARNIT like
she’s a tired black lady, and
my mother is a
tired black lady.

When I go to
a zone
Where I
Am Seen
In the most
Racist state
In the country,
Where I
Said I
Would never
Ever
Ever go,
They call me
“Brother”
Say
“Our ancestors blood”
And crush me.
I am destroyed.
I join our dirt lost
Whale song
Tears I bring seeds
I’m from a city I
Can’t know. I bring
Crumbs
Back to my
lover, to
Pray over
I put my
anger out
to the
Sound of
Rotten carp
crackling in the
Reservoir I
Slouch by the
Pearl River with
my hydrophone
and trap soundtracks I
Record the toilet
Flushing in the gas
Station for
Comfort. I am
A ghost baby floating
in the

Water.
Watching and not
Knowing how to
Speak or move in
this clown-ass heat.
She said
It’s about that
Time I had
To run
Which time? I’m stunned
from a snake next to water
at night.

I leave
The critique
Cause its
About field and
I “ain’t” about to
Be that lost
Lonely figure
Wrapped in Anger in
The middle of some
Pastoral scene.

My friend come to visit
And get stopped at the door
Cause his
Stories were
too
long and
He was my family and
The cops targeted him and I say
“Overcooked pasta” and
then kick a door.

I can’t see
The Dollar Store kids it
Reminds me of something
I tried to
Forget, it’s the truth that

I’m really a boxer, Imma stick
Out my chest at the chicken spot and
Men will respect me,
I could be in
Law school, I got
Issues.

I seen skinny men in
Heavy spaces, rattling
Saying I could. The
Persmission
I could learn
to carry
how I am
Black everybody
Knows its an inheritance
You just cannot throw
Away even if
It makes you a
more difficult person
to understand, says the
tattoo I wanna get
On my face.

I once had Two tits but
Still cry
Remember when you
Get hidden
By rules you didn’t make up?
Live the politics
Underneath expletives
Imagined enemies Shout at you in
Your history that becomes
The stop sign of

Research dreams. 80 hours
of Crumbling walls next
To the river to get
Into
Soggy fingers
Glinty shards
Grills and peels of yellow onion
And silver wrappers. And
How to how to
In the way I can handle
a tub of dirty wires
It’s a
Swamp too.
Thank you.