An exhibition by Bianca Lucas at UNO Gallery Saturday August 14 – Sunday September 5th Opening: 6pm – 9pm UNO Gallery, 2429 St Claude Ave, New Orleans
From Grief to Forgiveness, an Alchemical Process explores the processes surrounding Bianca Lucas’ making of her first feature, Love Dog. Utilizing the Jungian principles of Alchemical Transmutation, it traces the artistic evolution of the Opus at the core of the exhibition as simultaneous to an archetypal psychic transformation. From Nigredo – the dark matter, the shadow, the grief – through to Rubedo: the Philosopher’s Stone, the Gold, or forgiveness and the individuated Self.
Bianca Lucas has been working with Deltaworkers since 2019, when she took part in the residency program. She is a Polish/Australian filmmaker whose work explores the intersection of fiction and documentary. She is a graduate of the Film.Factory- a three year programme helmed by legendary director Bela Tarr. We’re proud to present the first constellation of film scenes at UNO Gallery. The work features performances by John Dicks and contain photography by Jozefina Gocman-Dicks.
UNO Gallery has invited Deltaworkers to curate an exhibition to continue the contact that has been built up over the last seven years. This iteration at the gallery will be followed by a larger project in 2022.
March 1st 2020 I went to New Orleans to be with and learn from people who engage in collective public practices of intimacy with death. 13 days later the Covid 19 pandemics forced a social distancing protocol onto us all and there was no public nor collective practices for a long time. I left New Orleans on the 1st of April through ghostly airports.This text was written in bites over the last two years.
March 25th 2020
Security measures are technologies to keep you free from harm, injury or damage, and induce the feeling of safety. Safety however is a state that our nervous system learns at a very young age. A disruption of this state can be caused by trauma – physical, developmental, social, ecological or intergenerational trauma. The feeling of safety is something that can be thought outside a logic of harm. As humans, this safety relates primarily to our relational environment. Safety is the base on which a human being develops their capacity to be socially engaged. It is nurtured by sounds and vibrations in the human voice range, it is nurtured by touch, it is nurtured by breathing in fully and exhaling completely. I discharge energy in an uncontrollable tremor. I wear my mask to hold you in my gaze, to not avert the direction of my eyes with the vector of my breath. We hold each other in distance. You are not what I want to be safe from. Our interconnectedness shows up in the fear of and for each other. Holding that thought as I would hold you. With space, giving space to what we could be. Not holding on to a normalcy that never was. Anticipatory grief of lost lives, lost work, lost meaning, lost relations. The streets were never smooth here. The earth is in a state of constant liquefaction where water and solids segregate into cracks and potholes. Years of meandering scars shift the earth into uncontrollable landscapes. Softness. Emotional landscapes that move through us in the old rhythms of inhale exhale bounce. Bouncing between life and death I feel you more then ever my dead sisters.
May 20th 2020
The space afforded us as unrecognisable bodies and if space is bodies are not owned but places where the alien likes to stay, to linger, to grow. Soft matter is solid but behaves as fluid under pressure. It is an action of re-orientation and re-organisation. The membrane holding new connections, other needs. We attach ourselves to the surface. Small conduits pointing in the same direction. Sucking in the area that gives itself as a receptor. Abrasion opens. Spikes are welcoming, scratching, caressing, lacerating. There is a binding which is not bonding, but an entrance. Sometimes you can enter only through the cracks in a system, other times the walls suck you in through their pores. Sometimes desire is the driving force, sometimes it’s fear, always power mostly chemistry. When you put pressure on solid bodies they start behaving as fluid. And edifices tumble on the way, structures of thought and stone and habit. The loss of bearing strength is a possibility for new formations The loss of bearing gaze is the possibility for touch
Until then my friends, strangers, and lovers I have a small offering:
Last summer I made an ointment in a workshop run by Cat Jones: Medicament for your Predicament. What was the predicament? How should the medicament be active? What is it’s delivery system? Would it be taken through the mouth, the anus, the vagina, the nostrils or the skin? I wanted it to be a treatment that takes time and that ideally needed to be performed by more then one person. The predicament it should address is to increase the feeling of safety in the face of radical change. It is an abrasive scrub/exfoliating massage ointment made of coconut oil ginger infusion mixed with sodium bicarbonate, and ground hibiscus flowers, which are full of citric acid and go pink when desolved in water. Being an effervescent it creates a continuos fizz when it touches water. It has three components and four phases. A scrub. A water spray. A kelp powder mist. Apply the scrub to the area you want activated. The exfoliant takes old layers of skin off and the ginger works anti-inflammatory inducing cell regeneration. Spray with water. Watch it bubble and change colour to dark pink. Sense the bubbles clinging and bursting on your skin. When this micro massage is over and the scrub has changed its colour completely use it to massage the deeper skin and muscle tissue. The coconut oil feels fresh and juicy while the ginger builds up heat for you. Once the skin is open and subtle, refreshed and breathing apply light touch stroking to enervate the
Merkel cells. They are special touch receptors. To end you apply the kelp mist, connecting with the tidal forces of the ocean and their periodic variations in gravitational attraction exerted by celestial bodies.
Ask someone to apply it for you. Offer to apply it for someone else. If you are alone apply it to yourself. Breath slowly inhale fully on six exhale completely on six. Caress your heart with your breath. Touch yourself inside out.
December 12th 2020 I want to come back to you. I need to be in the swamp for a long time.
June 13th 2021 Over the last one and a half years I continued my conversation with you in my ways. One way I could be with you was by sound. A wave is a force that moves energy from one place to another. Waves travel through matter and space. Sound waves travel around the planet through bodies of water and matter. Light waves travel through the universe connecting celestial bodies. Seismic waves shake up the ground on which we stand.
Dear listener friend stranger lover, I’m happy to meet you soon.
Can we acknowledge the complicated grieves, that are present in this time? Grief for the dead, grief because of the climate crisis, grief because social injustices, grief because of anti blackness, grief for a certain idea of future; individual, collective, worldly and planetary grief.
Engaging in the entanglement of forces that waves porduce I invite you to this listening sessions as collective grieving practices. I want to invite you to listening with the whole body. Giving our bodies as resonances to each other to be in the wild place of grief, of joy, of regeneration. They are sound meditations for wondering together into a space that we don’t need to be alone in. Building on a practice of nourishment and regeneration we want to sustaining transformative quaking while asking: How can we be together otherwise?
Bring something heavy that you can place on your body or hold in your hand. Bring a hot water bottle or a blanket. Lay down if you want. Listen with your eyes closed, or listen in the dark. Listen with headphones.
November 1st 2020 your body holds future past present it flows feel feel your history as ANIMAteriality aniMATERiality aniMATERIALITY anIMATERIALITY when we connect through pressure and feelings hold you hold that thought holding future past and present we cannot survive without many hands holding us on the wild edge of grief we have time for grief this is what we are called for in a mutual gravitational field to consent not to be a single being the alchemy of loss is to feel yourself tangled in a planetary nest it is a prayer a plea a protest at the centre of grief there is a presence that is not your own you are not alone
July 21st 2021
So, as they are talking, death is with them and their cousins loss and grief and love and care. And sometimes one takes the lead sometimes another. And they stay together and stand together against capitalist heteropatriarchal powers and winds of functionality and isolation. And they stand together against the claim, that it is up to them to get over it, and that it is personal and not political. And as they are walking together in the swamp, decay and regrowth all around them, they think about the temporality of smell and how it crosses and connects generations and landscapes and how it is the materiality of the body that grows after death, becoming pungend and rich. And they stand in the swamp seeing it die around them in the fragile equilibrium aerobic and anaerobic bacteria and microorganisms that transforms huge biomass and sediments and stores nutrients for a future to come. And they feel the vibration of subsounds surrounding the planet and how it crosses and connects generations and landscapes. And they learn to listen to the swamp and listen through their skin with more or less pigments and listen with their gut and with their bacteria in their gut, and listen to lives lost, and listen to sendimented layers of saturation, and listen to voiced unheared and voices not listened to. And they learn to listen to vibrations with their whole bodies. And they attempt to speak with their feet in the swamp and the bacterias in their gut resonating with the bacteria in the swamp. Languaging in ways unknown to themselves they are curious what will come (out) of these bodies crossed and connected by generations and landscapes. They stand together appart in an entanglement with that what was and that which will be, the becoming of new meaning, values and possibilities.
Siegmar Zacharias is a performance artist, researcher, and death doula based in Berlin. She collaborates with humans and uncontrollable materials, such as smoke, slime, drool, the nervous system exploring generative ethical dynamics of transformation and radical change. She explores performance as collective grief-work in the tension between intimacy and alienation. Affiliated with Roehampton University she received a TECHNE scholarship for excellency and inovative research to persue her PhD project. She is a fellow at THIRD DASResearch at AHK Amsterdam.
Sunday June 13th 11am NOLA (CDT) / 6pm A’dam (CEST) ONLINE: shorturl.at/gqHX5 Zoom MeetingID: 858 4966 1843
How can we be together otherwise? Let us listen with our bodies
With ANIMAterialities Siegmar offers a sound meditation for wandering together into a space where we don’t need to be alone. Let’s acknowledge the complicated grief, which is present in this time. Grief for the dead, grief for the climate, grief for social injustice, grief for anti blackness, grief for a certain idea of future; individual, collective, worldly and planetary grief.
ANIMAterialities invites us to practice giving our bodies as resonant space for each other’s nourishment and regeneration. How to sustain transformative quaking while asking: How can we be together otherwise?
Bring your headphones, a heavy object, a hot water bottle or a blanket
Siegmar Zacharias is a performance artist, researcher and death doula invested in immersive visceral art practices that accompany processes of transformation.
Red Vaughan Tremmel’s work explores spaces of play and pleasure, as historically significant sites of social struggle. He is a multidisciplinary artist and professor of history & gender and sexuaity studies at Tulane University.
Documentation excerpt from the event, ‘Slow Violence, Tracing the Invisible’ – a film in real time (bike ride) produced in collaboration with residents of the Lower Ninth Ward/ Holy Cross. The live film was shown on Instagram.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.