A journey to what is living.
On a warm and sunny English saturday morning, after having a rare cold shower, I got my bike and I set off to live art.
Living through the caos of a million people trying to get to the same place I was going was a spatial experience of not having any space, while feeling the small hands of a blond girl curiously touch my legs and arms.
And finally there I was nearing the art, when I decided to stop in a organic farmer's produce store of the Sussex producers. Organic ice-cream!
And I got there. A place (a nice bid gardened house) in Falmer, being greeted with a big smile from the door keeper. On my first steps in there is a curious scene of this girl blindfolded messing with a jigsaw puzzle. A man sitting opposit of her doing the same. Both speaking nonsense. No sense of the pieces or of any connections of what they were saying. Just there. happening. A jigsaw puzzle embedded in nonsense. That was intended to stop happening three hours later.
I continued to walk around, following the map I received in the entrance. And I quickly started to notice the aliveness of the interesting things almost hiding in the garden. Then sound. "Find the spot which sets the sound off". No clue. A little girl comes and tells me she has the answer. She had definitely found her own answer-spot, and she was happy!
A small trailer parked with some seats. "this is a performance ......." So I sat there and started looking at the slides. Lived stories from an English 60's. The sound of a typewriter. Soon enough I was going to be there, crafting the art and living the story of the slide I chose. Concentrating on the story that was just being created and instantly typed, without any chance of erasing or changing a word.
Some more steps and I find this living collage (photo). The artist invited me to be part of his art and amog his words were things as "you", "art" "copyright", "all of us" "our" "health and safety", "dogs" "children" ... So there I was becoming part of his art and acquireing my copyrighted spot in that big thing. Later on in the afternoon the artist revealed he was starting the sweat.
There were small ensembles performing throughout the day in the Garage. And intimate performances of body musicality in a closed space. A 5 minute rave and rituals of sound voyage.
There was a stall of food and of drinks. Local home made Ales that were still lively fermenting. The food was also to be crafted by each one's choice of combining ingredients there available.
Assisted by the facilitator I painted and transformed a Tshirt. I shined my leather sandals.
Almost by mistake I took part in a workshop and later performance led by Marina Sossa, where a group of people lived their pathways from life to death during 15 minutes.
Other pieces of art were living around the garden. Installations in the grass, in the trees and in a glass gallery box. Dances happened in a selected area of the grass.
People of all ages were living that space and re-creating its aliveness. Art was being done, seen and allowed in the lives of the lived.
As a living person I left together with the sun to my expected intense journey home, where I knew I would have to live through the million people that would be attempting to do the same pathway as I was.
WTF was a chance to live and share ephemeral artistic liveness. To be sensitive to details and to be assisted into nonsense senses of art-crafting. And to live through the sunny and warm (unusual) English day.