Deadline_1 by Lunik

Deadline

This is not a weekly newspaper Well. After a first edition test in Cluj, you presently hold in your hands the « real » number one of Deadline. We felt a need to try, even to experience, the possibility to make a weekly publication during the summer workshop of Mechanisms for an Entente. Except for myself, we do not have to pretend being journalists. Because Deadline does not deal with objective (or pseudo objective) facts that we had observed in the cities we have crossed ; this little object is the receptacle of subjective feelings, furtive sensations, seen and heard things, dialogs, reflections... or whatever the 25 participants of this adventurous trip would like to share : images, rather serious texts, jokes, fictions, images... Enjoy the reading ! Valérie de Saint-Do

Editorial

Tout v a vite. Traversée de villes, de paysages, de réunions, de rencontres, d’affinités. Voici maintenant deux semaines que Mécanismes pour une entente, ce projet un peu fou lancé par Marta Jonville et Tomas Matauko, nous rassemble, à vingt cinq artistes, chercheurs, journalistes, des Slovaques, Polonais, Hongrois, Roumains, Français. Deux semaines de tissages entre nous, entre nous et les villes traversées – Bucarest, Cluj, Budapest, et désormais Kosiče – entre nous et ceux qui nous accueillent et ceux que nous rencontrons sur place. D’où l’impression, parfois de ne voir et percevoir les choses qu’à travers une fenêtre et à la vitesse du train, (même s’il ne s’agit pas de lignes à grande vitesse !). Cette frustration sûrement inhérente à un tel projet, est probablement nécessaire à notre imaginaire. Paysages urbains, discussions, rencontres, fêtes, arpentages passent au tamis de la mémoire – ou de la confusion des mémoires. Nos matériaux sont là, précisément, entre sensations fugitives, enthousiasmes, fatigues, et même déceptions ou malentendus. Dépasser, par exemple, le coup de foudre pour une ville à la beauté et la frénésie quelque peu écrasantes – Budapest– pour y découvrir l’inattendu – les militants de la décroissance du Szalon et leur vision décapante de la situation politique du pays. Surmonter la banalité de quelques discours parfois clichés dans les conférences grâce à la contre argumentation de quelques voix incisives du collectif. Quelque chose est en train d’arriver. On the road again soon, to be continued... Valérie de Saint-Do

Everything goes fast. We are crossing cities, landscapes, m e e t i n g s , encounters. Elected affinities. Two weeks have now passed since the beginning of this summer workshop of the somewhat crazy project « Mechanisms for an entente », courageously initiated by Marta Jonville and Tomas Matauko. This project, which puts together artists, researchers and journalists from Romania, Slovakia, Hungaria, Poland and France. Two weeks to weave relationships between us; between us and the cities we cross – Bucharest, Cluj, Budapest and now Kosiče–, between us and the partners who welcome us, between us and the people we meet in different places. Hence the feeling we have, sometimes, of just seeing things just through the train window (even if our trains are not high speed trains!). This kind of frustration, certainly unavoidable, is part of the project itself and is probably a necessity for our imagination. Urban landscapes, dialogs, meetings, lectures, wanderings have to cross the filter of our memories. Flying sensations, quick enthusiasms, tiredness, and even disappointment and misunderstandings are our material and tools. We need, for instance, to overcome our love at first sight for a too heavily beautiful town – Budapest– to find what we didn’t expect: the activists of degrowth, in the Szalon, and their incisive point of view of the political situation in Hungary. We also need to overcome a few lectures somewhat « cliché », well counterbalanced by the answers of some of us. Something is happening. Bientôt de nouveau sur la route, à suivre... Valérie de Saint-Do

“Shit! What did I do wrong?” Cluj-Napoca, July 2013 photo by Tomas Matauko

4. The chan g e s w h i c h occur in that reality make the existing meanings no longer valid; social practice becomes the ultimate criterion. The fact that certain meanings lose their validity affects our life-styles, results in a loss of privileges that have been gained by one group in favour of another. There is therefore a constant trend towards upholding meanings which have lost their validity. Because of the diversified range of meanings in the definition systems, there is the possibility of construction apparent meanings of reality, and in consequence, of producing an apparent reality. e x c e r p t , , from Jan Swidzinski’s “12 Points of Contextual Art”

by Joanna Bednarczyk

9 VII 2013

Hot. Spotkanie w ogrodzie. Meeting in the garden. Siedzą, gadają, palą papierosy. Ja

brudzę sobie tyłek w małym domku japońskim. Sama już nie wiem, gdzie siąść, jak siąść, żeby a) nie pobrudzić sobie tyłka jeszcze bardziej, b) nikt nie zobaczył, że nie mam majtek, c) mój sąsiad nie ćmił fajek. Romek wypluwa kilka kamieni na podłogę. Roman is spiting few stones on the floor.

Czarne usta i czarne uściski dłoni. Black

mouth and black handshakes. Potem randki. After that dating. Gilliamo i Nils. Idziemy na randkę na cmentarz. Gulliamo kładzie się na grobie. Guillaume is lying on the grave.

Nils – cyka zdjęcia. Nils takes photos. Ja – rozglądam

się z obawą. Potem obiad. Znów całe to szaleństwo, które tak lubię. Talerze

śmigają tam i siam, jedną łyżeczkę liże pięć osób. The plates are flying

here and there; one spoon is being licked by five people. Na języku tysiąc smaków z dwudziestu pięciu półmisków. Za moją sugestią. After that is

screening; everybody is drinking lemon beer (1,8 %), because there is no other.

Ha, ha.

Ha, ha. Potem impreza w gazecie. Idziemy,

tańczymy i wracamy. Ostatnia noc w Cluju. The last night in Cluj. 10 VII 2013 Gorąco. O 12 musimy zmywać się z naszych pokoi. At 12 a.m.

we have to quit our rooms. Ha, ha, ha. Jesteśmy bezdomni.

We are homeless. W kuchni kłębią się nasze toboły. To ich projekt. Ich, bagaży.

We are sending Rom’s

box to Poland. Kosztuje w chuj dużo. Ja płacę i z

I would like all participants to write together a collective diary of the journey. The first step, started at the Academy of Fine Arts in Cracow, was to print a special notebook for making a visual and textual diary. I wanted to enrich the idea by collecting my own notes for the first part, and then, by asking other participants to take part in the process. From now, everybody can write in his native language, while translating some sentences into English. This open formular creates a secret shape for understanding each other in different ways. Joanna Bednarczyk

przerażeniem liczę pozostałe na koncie pieniądze. W jakimś starym kinie trwają warsztaty. Nie ma

mnie nie tam, nie ma, nie ma... Ludzie zbierają

taśmy. Jarek, co tam masz? Ach, film animowany. Wow, myślę, pewnie jakaś porządna, kultowa

animacja. Rzucam wzrokiem, a tam Herkules z

Disneya.

Roman

gazeta,

zabić

pali

jedną

klatkę.

Potem obiad, premiera deadline, potem czas

pociągu.

We are on the station about two hours too early. Wielka impreza. Big

party.

Pociąg,

kuszetki.

Po sześć głów na dwa metry

kwadratowe. Obijam głowę o

wierzch pociągu. My head hits the ceiling of the

a 21st

train.

11 VII 2013

century

Hot.

porą.

M e t r o , bilety,

travel diary

Budapeszt

wczesną

money, money

kolorze. Na schodach ruchomych nieruchome wcześniej, wpatrzone przed siebie głowy nagle zaczynają się odwracać. Przyciąga je arystokratyczny kolor blue. It is magnetized of

aristocratic blue color. W instytucie obchody pełną parą. The formula of ball was changed a little bit since the nineteenth century. Tolstoy would turn in their grave, I think. Proust also. Znów się upijam, ale to dlatego, że nie ma co jeść. Ciastka na obiad.

Zmywamy się stamtąd. Metro party and long walk to the island. Tam – kawałek trawnika i ciąg dalszy party. Zimno, spać, wracajmy do kosmicznego.

żegnajcie!

14 VII 2013

Francuskie

śniadanie i:

owoce,

Hot. Podejmujemy decyzję: nie jedziemy na plażę naturystów, idziemy do wód

termalnych. Na stronie: 2300 forintów. Spoko. Na miejscu: 4300. Money,

bakerollsy

Potem

metro

suche i

money, żegnajcie. For ten minutes I feel totally overwhelmed by Romek’s

fistaszki.

znów

pensjonat.

hostel.

performance.

rzut

pełen

Pokój

oka

wychodzą

–

mankamenty.

termalne ściągają ze mnie całe napięcie. Potem trip do

Bakalitu. Spotykamy Valerie, Simona i Gulliamo. Simon and Guillaume are late for the bus. They are waving to us.

barek z alkoholem i batonem – płatny.

Głowa, makijaż, prysznic i znów metro. –

ekstra!

kinie wagon i dość mierna dyskusja o modernizmie i

mieszkaniu bywał swego czasu Stefan Prus. Zupełnie

nie

dostrzegam

rzeźbionych

Obije

się

dopiero

In the corners of their mouth wanders sad

smile. W Bakalicie pożegnalne party. Świetny film w

Ale cóż z tego? I tak jest zajebiście! Lunch

postmodernizmie.

technicznych

oparć

oczy

jutro.

Ponieważ

odwołano

przyczyn

koncert,

pozostaje

nam tylko picie i jedzenie. Ewentualnie

krzeseł i kryształowych żyrandolów nad głową. mi

One time

and very demanding performance all time. Na szczęście wody

Szare

antykoncepcyjnych w koszu na śmieci,

waiting.

stan

people don’t detect the fact, that Roman stays in permament

czasem

do mnie puste opakowanie tabletek

sprawdzam

I asked. Mathieu. Ale co dalej? Dobrze, że to już koniec. Most

zacieki w wannie, nie należące

Szalon

I can not, I can not ask. WSTYDZĘ SIĘ. I am ashamed.

pierwszy Z

kasę

some t- shirt from sombody for Romek or some shoes, but I can not,

nieskazitelny,

luksus.

kompulsywnie

a następującym po nim palcem. U nogi. Everyday I think how to take

hotel.

Cosmic building dying of AIDS.

liczę

konta, codziennie patrzę na nabrzmiały krwią odcisk między kciukiem

Nie,

Codziennie

papierosy. Most people come back with the

Potem

znów jazda, jazda. Bakalit, prezentacja o Europie

Wschodniej. Ekstra! Potem obiad. Naked session on the

roof. Przy stole nikt nie pije białego wina. Opróżniam

first night bus. Some people are without tickets.

15 VII 2013

całą butelkę. Club. Wracamy taksą. Spać, spać, spać. Mgiełka alkoholowa dobywa się z moich ust.

Zimno.

Cold.

pobudka.

Piąta

Pociąg

rano,

innego

kraju. The train to another

12 VII 2013

country. Następują zmiany.

Hot. Śpimy. Dzień zaczyna się o 12. Potem – higiena osobista i

The

potem – metro, Salon, lunch. Dyskusja. I cannot concentrate. Nie

mogę oderwać wzroku od kusych spodenek mówcy. Skóra na nosie jeży

mi się. Potem uciekamy we czwórkę, Julie, Łukasz i my. Kino vagon. Po

kinie przystawki na obiad. W ustach pani z siwymi włosami znikają kolejne

wykałaczki z serem i ogórkiem. Jarek, mieliśmy wczoraj seks w klubie przy

changes

Ludzie

wszystkich i nikt nie widział. Wiem właśnie, widziałem! Today is no party.

śnięci

occur. przez

cały dzień.

Ratuje

poczucie

humoru

great

sense

nas tylko wspaniałe Łukasza.

We come back to the hotel. We need to sew a dress for tomorrow ball.

of humor of Łukasz.

13 VII 2013 Hot. Piknik. Picnic. The

stacks of food on the two blankets taken out of the hotel.

Cristina initiates some game in square. Everybdody is shoving each others, everybody

wants to win. I cut my finger. Kakao z kartonu. Okrąża nas – francuski napis. Zaczyna się

granie. Ostra jazda. Ludzie mijają nas z należną nam uwagę. Romek szyje sukienkę na bal

z okazji rocznicy rewolucji francuskiej. Ja drapuję spódnicę w tym samym arystokratycznym

The

Kosice, 2013/07/16 Joanna, tu m’as demandé l’autre jour de te faire part de mon journal en français. Bien que j’ai du mal à cerner tes motivations, je m’exécute. Je n’ai jamais tenu de journal. I never had a diary. Une des raisons certainement pour laquelle j’ai du mal à tenir les délais. Certainly one of the reasons for which I can’t respect the deadlines. La raison de ma retenue. L’exercice m’a toujours semblé relever plus de motivations narcissiques, que de réelles prises de position. L’écriture, à mon sens, se doit de caractériser une volonté, un désir d’échange inhérents au sujet auquel il s’apparente. Writing, to me, means to characterize a wish, a desire to exchange through the subject you are talking about. Je m’adresse à toi précisément car je n’ai personne d’autre à qui m’adresser. J’ai toujours eu le sentiment d’avoir à faire face à quelqu’un lorsque je devais écrire. Cela relève plus de l’exercice de la parole, la parole que l’on ne sait pas exprimer. This is more about talking, about the words you can’t express orally. Et c’est toujours dans les moments où je me sentais le plus acculé que mon verbe s’en est libéré. Seydou Grépinet

Alexandra, Ne-am scris astăzi și mi-ai spus că te-ai despărțit de D. Îmi pare rău. Îmi pare rău în primul rând pentru că este încă o confirmare a faptului că poveștile de dragoste din filme nu există, că nu trăim în Fairyland. Mi-ar plăcea să inventez o mașină a timpului și să ne întoarcem pe 31 decembrie 1997, seara, să ne punem alune în nas și să tăiem covoare. Mi-ar plăcea să nu știm câte știm acum, să nu mai primim nici un șut în fund de la viață, să fim în Eternal sunshine of spotless minds. Tot ce știu este că eu te iubesc și că sunt mândră și bucuroasă că așa cu suișuri și coborâșuri avem tipul ăla de prietenie cu care nu mulți oameni se poate lăuda, prietenia aia din poveste. Pe de altă parte, my rațional mind îmi spune că despărțirea asta în absolut nu înseamnă nimic, doar ai trecut de la o etapă a vieții tale personale la alta, că nu există dramă dacă nu o construiești în mintea ta, iar eu te sfătuiesc să nu o faci. Treci mai departe, fă cum a făcut Maya când s-a despărțit de persoana despre care credea că este iubirea vieții ei. 10 zile de patetism, regrete și plânsete apoi erase everything and go on. The future is bright. Deși sunt în excursia asta înconjurată de oameni și locuri noi, smsul tău este cel care mi-a dat cel mai mult de gândit în perioada asta. I am not good at words, dar asta îmi place la prietenia noastră, că nu trebuie să folosim prea multe, deja știi ce simt și ce îmi doresc pentru tine. Suntem cele mai frumoase și cele mai deștepte! Tzuc, Cristina

13 VII 13 Wstawanie bez budzika. Ze słońcem. Jadło prawie w betonie. Jak w środku cyrku nieznajomych. Waking without alarm clock. With sun. Victuals almost in the concrete. As in the middle of a strangers circus. Głód. Nuty wychodzące z oceanu. Przemykające między trójkolorowymi taśmami. Barbara nie znosi ich i ucieka. Wchodzę na dach. Obserwuję ręce Cécile’a. W gardle Dunaju wzburzone fale.

photo by Alexis Emery-Dufoug

Mathieu Lericq

Le concept dâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;arbre ne porte pas de singes The concept of tree doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t carry monkeys Guillaume du Boisbaudry

« I don’t make performances, I make experiences » Interview with Roman Dziadkiewicz by Valérie de Saint-Do

It seemed to me (maybe a little falsely) that much of the project would be about performance, especially in public spaces and in train stations. Here starts a collection of interviews with the performers of the team with this question in mind : What is and what means performance art today ? My research begins with the Kraków-based performer Roman Dziadkiewicz. What does performance mean to you ? I don't call myself a « performer ». I work with some elements of the tradition of performance. But I take it as a part of more complex way of thinking, where performance is a part of a triangle. The triangle is based on three capital points : everything related to language, eveything related to pictures, imagination and perception, and then everything related to body and action. I situate performance or performative activity on the latter angle. It is a little bit different than within the performance studies, where performance necessarily connects itslef with language. You refer yourself to « traditional » performance. What mean « tradition » in performance ? (Silence.) In one way, you can take it as a very fresh field of contemporary art, which is still a bit out of institutions, on the move. From a regular position, performance is a bit marginalized. At the same time, performance art has its own international network of institutions and festivals. So, if we take it in historical way, 1960's and 1970's are the most significant periods. But we have also roots for it in the 1st avant-garde. But it has also much deeper roots – not only in theatre – because theatre is so much related to language – but more to something that you could call « popular culture », or « folk culture » or interpersonal relations. Russian theorist of culture Mikhaïl Bakhtin wrote about these non religious but sacred roots, based on dialogue relations. Performance would correspond to some sort of secular acts in public spaces, f.e. in the market squares, within social relations, which I take as crucial roots for contemporary performance. There are hidden parts in our unconsciouness but still active in situations of conflict, stress or unfamiliar happenings. All this are the roots of our performatives potentialities. In this way, performance deals with social, interpersonal relations, and thus dives very deeply into daily life.

The situation in which you have particular places dedicated to art and to have visitors is also a very important context or frame for activity, which could be related to performance, directy or indirectly. This institutional frame is very meaningful. I don't want to keep performance out of it, without confrontation. If you tell me « it is not a good place for performance», I would answer : « Why not ? » Maybe, if you put a performance in a white cube, you have another kind of confrontation. On the other hand, I feel a bit fictional the opposition between institution, white cube and public spaces. Each artistic activity, each performance, is generally related to institutions, even though this institutional context is less visible. We have still this idea that in public spaces, the performance is more free, more independant, but usually, it is false. Institution is something more than walls and places. It is an economical and political context and the meaning of production of particular work. Usually, a perforamnce in public spaces is in the same economic situation and dependency than in a white cube. The difference might be in the people who watch it, and who will interact or not... Yes, a kind of accident is still possible. And I really like accidents. But if you make a performance in a public space, you have a small group of people interested in it, and watching the performance from the beginning to the end, and usually, some people pass by, and will stay for a moment and pass by again. If you want to interact, I don't think that the short time show would work. This is why I am against short performances. I feel that the potential of the living body in time and space is much more effective. In the same time, this short format of performance is more and more conventional. This is why what is important to me in performance is experience and long-term investigations, based on researches, rehearsals, tests or samples. Finally I prefer the term experience instead of performance for my work. Is it always prepared in advance, or is it possible that you welcome a kind of improvisation in these experiences ?

What about the context ? Public spaces, audience ? The triangle I refered to is about strategy of activity, about several forms of language you decide to use – it can be either verbal, visual or physical – but each of them are immersed in contexts. So, the context is a space where I can put the triangle in. It actually creates the act, and inter-act whatever its shape : act of the body, act of the langage, act of image. Does it make sense in any context ? And especially, does it make sense to perform in a place which is already dedicated to art, when people come just as an audience ? I would think that performance precisely make sense when it comes without expectations...

Usually I prepare myself, or, if I work with a group of people, we prepare ourselves to be ready, to be open to have such an experience. Wether an action takes 24 hours or one week, the preparation can take few months. We discuss the elements and prepare some equipment, we collect iconography, make rehearsals, which are autonomous works as well. And we prepare ourselves to be open to others, as much as possible. Then we start to create interpersonal situations. It is about Munüs project as well... Could you define more precisely the word Münus ? I found inspiration in different roots, but also some reflections after the long-term work for the project in Kraków. Munüs comes from a kind of crisis which questioned the content of the project « Mechanisms for an Entente ». What is it about? What will

connect us? There were so many discussions during the Open_ Studio with students and participants about relations, history, geography, diagrams and the tools for collaboration... But still, there was something like a hidden panic about what we want to connect and with whom, with what. What is really the engine, or the gas, for these mechanisms? Then, I've heard a lecture from the Italian philosopher Roberto Esposito, who put the term Munüs, and I realized : « This is what we've lost! » But at the same time, this is not the pure answer. It is impossible to give a clear definition of Munüs, which is a core for com-munism, com-munication, com-muniti. The word comes from old Latin language, and has few different and sometimes opposite meanings. Each of them is related to exchange, to situation, which involve two sides: a gift, for example, but also debt. It is also « performance », or « show » or « service », or « obligation ». If you collect these terms, you have a set of tools related to possible interpersonal activities and their ambivalences.

This is not a performance #1

Would you relate it to ideas of anthropology like gift/countergift, or Potlatch ? There was also the Kula ritual, from the islands in Oceania, studied by the anthropologist Bronisław Malinowski. It was a ritual of exchange on a bigger scale, in an archipelago. The Kula are kind of ritual objects that circulate in opposite directions, and connect islands together. There are different islands, but they keep a common identity by this exchange. Guillaume told us that « money » also derives from Münus. We evoked what comes before a performance or experience. What about after, about traces and archives? Is it part of your work to keep archives of what you are doing (images, sounds)? Within the field of history of art, I think that this is still a relevant question for researchers: Who did decide that performance needs documentation, pictures or videos? Maybe galleries, which started to be interested in performance? At the beginning, most of them were against materiality, documentation and petrification. A kind of soft institutionalization started a bit later. And it produced a need of documentation – good pictures or objects to be put in galleries. In another hand, I absolutely understand this need, because to deal with material reality is a very important aspect of activity in art. I am against pure conceptualism reduced to ideas and language. The interaction of objects, bodies, images and language is what I want to work with. In this context, images and comments are something that we can transfer and move from temporal activity, keep them as documentation, connect to other and build up next levels. But the question remains: for what, and why? Is it for merchandizing? And who decides of it? Sometimes we feel that we make decisions but decisions are made without us. But what is clear for me is that we need or we should create our own archives. It is a kind of political fight to have power to cover our own archives. If we don't archive ourselves we will be archived by others, or we will disappear... Roman Dziadkiewicz - Münus

photo by Łukasz Jastrubczak

Roman Dziadkiewicz dressed as a ghost

photo by Julie Chovin

An open process is by definition a challenge against the program, against the predictable, and as such, a factor of realityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s enrichment and enlargement. An art of process, by extension, walks over an accidental and inexpected ground. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a creation that fecondates the instant, as much as it is fecondated by that same instant. This impredictibility designates the moment were by action we produce beeing. It is about abandoning the primacy given not to the confection but to the finished work, a vision where the process is depreciated for the benefit of the finished work, while we should give justice to the activity. text by Tomas Matauko

PRZECIEZ LUBIMY GRANICE / BUT WE ALL LIKE BORDERS ANYWAY , text: Barbara Nawrocka / PALCE LIZAC collective translation: Marek Mardosewicz

Cały ten zamęt o porozumienie, presja o kolektywność myśli, walka ze stereotypami, próba odgradzania się od idei podziałów zaczyna coraz bardziej przypominać mi jakąś odległą, skąpaną w środkowoeuropejskim słońcu, utopię. Po tygodniu badań etymologii słów ‘entente’ “rozumieć” “ to „understand” i ‘“comprendre’’ , po próbie rozłożenia esencji na części pierwsze, wyobrażam sobie proces wzajemnej komunikacji jako rodzaj fali. Wyobraźmy sobie jej rysunek. Idealne porozumienie wyznacza jednostajny wykres. Stąd też najciekawsze w tej fali stają się nagle jej zaburzenia. Zderzenia i zgrzyty. Wszystko to, co oddala nas od utopii. O zaburzenia toczy się gra. O idiomatyczne gry słowne, o nieodczytany ton nieco ironiczny, o wszelkie wahania amplitudy. Nagle okazuje się, że w projekcie o porozumieniu sami jesteśmy (my oraz nasze wzajemne relacje) przedmiotem projektu. Jesteśmy w środku koła. Presja tworzenia porozumienia w konkretnym gronie rodzi we mnie kolejne pytania. Jak bardzo zorientowani dośrodkowo są ci, którzy chcą tworzyć między sobą porozumienie? Z chwilą gdy utworzymy mocne “My”, automatycznie pojawią się na zewnątrz wszyscy “Oni”. Tak powstają granice. Wstyd się przyznać, ale przecież większość bardzo mocno ich potrzebuje Czasem chcemy tylko wymurować ściany domu, od czasu do czasu w oparciu o granice budujemy swą tożsamość, innym razem potrzebujemy tylko ramy, za którą można wyjść mniej lub bardziej szaleńczym gestem. O zaburzenia toczy się gra. O idiomatyczne gry słowne, o nieodczytany ton nieco ironiczny, o wszelkie wahania amplitudy. O wszystkie drobne nieporozumienia. Dlaczego dzieci lubią grać w “głuchy telefon”? Bo nieporozumienie tworzy tam nowe warstwy znaczeń, kompletnie nową rzeczywistość. Bo to dobra zabawa. I hope you understood me well.

All this mess about entente, pressure about collectivness of thought, struggle against stereotypes and attempt to cordon off from the idea of divisions starts to resemble a very distant, bathed in Central European’s sun, utopia. After a week of etymological researches of words „entente” and „comprehension”, after the attempts of decomposing the essence, “the meaning”, on the first, i imagine a process of mutual communication as some kind of a wave. I imagine a drawing. A perfect entente is determined by a steady graph. That’s what is the most interesting about the wave is their sudden distractions. Collisions and crushes. Everything which puts us away from the utopia. There is a game where disorder is at stake. The game is about idiomatic plays of words, about unread tone, a little bit ironic, about all fluctuations of the amplitude. Suddenly it occurs that in a project about entente, WE are (with ourselves and in relations to the others) the subject of the project. We are inside the circle. The pressure of creating an entente in a very specific group of people, rises up other questions. How much inward-oriented are those who wants to build entente? As soon as we create a strong “WE”, automatically the “OTHERS” appear, those who are not inside, those „not with us”. This is how the borders are made. It is a shame to admit, but most of people strongly needs borders. Sometimes we only want to build the walls of our house, from time to time, basing on borders we build our identity, other time we just need a frame, through which we go to the outside, as more or less frantic gesture. There is a game where disorder is at stake. The game is about the idiomatic plays of words, about the unread tone, a little bit ironic, about all fluctuations of the amplitude. About little misunderstandings. Why do kids like to play chinese whispers? Because in there the misunderstanding creates other layers of meanings, a completely new reality. Because this is good fun.

*Old English understandan “comprehend, grasp the idea of,” probably literally “stand in the midst of,” from under + standan “to stand” (see stand). If this is the meaning, the under is not the usual word meaning “beneath,” but from Old English under, from PIE *nter- “between, among” (cf. Sanskrit antar “among, between,” Latin inter “between, among,” Greek entera “intestines;” see inter-). That is the suggestion in Barnhart, but other sources regard the “among, between, before, in the presence of ” sense of Old English prefix and preposition under as other meanings of the same word. “Among” seems to be the sense in many Old English compounds that resemble understand, e.g. underniman “to receive,” undersecan “to investigate,” underginnan “to begin.” It also seems to be the sense still in expressions such asunder such circumstances. Perhaps the ultimate sense is “be close to,” cf. Greek epistamai “I know how, I know,” literally “I stand upon.” Similar formations are found in Old Frisian (understonda), Middle Danish (understande), while other Germanic languages use compounds meaning “stand before” (cf. German verstehen, represented in Old English by forstanden). For this concept, most Indo-European languages use figurative extensions of compounds that literally mean “put together,” or “separate,” or “take, grasp” (see comprehend). Old English oferstandan, Middle English overstonden, literally “over-stand” seem to have been used only in literal senses.

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still from Silence and cry (Csend és kiáltás) by Miklós Jancsó (1968)

Hi I have one picture. The quality is bad but it's normal, this is a part of a project which is called "Sorry I don't have a Smartphone". It's possible to include the picture to the fanzine with the name of the project (Sorry I don't have a Smartphone) and the mention "Work in progress"; If not it's better to present the picture small or big with the pixel, it's depend of the rest of the edition. We can talk together about that on the real life. Nils Clouzeau

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Train tracks, Cluj, Romania

photos by Edyta Masior ,

The Raft of the Medusa. I saw a sea of fictive memories. Seizable but unwatchable. I took a bath into them, tried to swim, at the end aground on a floating broken chair, like a castaway of romanticism. Film reels become pure objects, strangely signs of a spread dematerialisation. Disarchived archives. I am sure Godard would like to shoot his last film there. by Mathieu Lericq

photo by Mathieu Lericq, assisted by Judit Kurtag (Cluj-Napoca - 08/07/2013)

Le concept du train ne transporte pas de voyageurs The concept of train doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t carry travellers Guillaume du Boisbaudry

photos by Alexis Emery-Dufoug

story and photo by Beáta Kolbašovská

Alexis proposed to made a party in subway, so it was spontaneous night full of surprises. Our friend Chris took us to the Sziget island and we saw contrasts between strange and beautifull in the same time. We met a guy, who was guide of the park, but he looked more like homeless. From the beginning it was one night long performance. Photos are documentation of how this night was going on chronologically. It started in a shop and ended in a trashcan:)

â&#x20AC;&#x153;A strange man in the subway, moustache, middle-age black clothes, leather with medails bags and bootsâ&#x20AC;? Budapest; drawing by Julie Chovin

photo by Julie Chovin

Pamiętnik. Dziennik. Żurnal z podróży. Zapiski z historii, jaką przeżyłem w czasie prostej podróży pociągiem relacji Kraków – Warszawa. Właściwie, chcę żeby czytając ten wpis widziano mnie, jako starca, z siwą brodą. W bujanym fotelu, fajką w ustach przed rozpalonym kominkiem w chatce gdzieś wysoko w górach. Albo nie, lepiej, szczęśliwego brodacza dożywającego swoich dni gdzieś na plaży czy na szczycie urwiska, kamiennej ściany, ciągnącej się aż od wybrzeża do jego tarasu, gdzie ślęczy nad starymi zapiskami i śmieje się przepisując głupoty, jakie pisał. Ale w tej historii jadę liniami tanimi kolejowymi polskimi. A w wagonie, wiadomo, miejsca ponumerowane, z urzędu po sześć w każdym przedziale - na szczęście zapłaciłem wcześniej, więc tyle dobrego, że nie musiałem być na korytarzu. Albo właśnie nie dobrze, bo na korytarzu nikt nie zaczepia, co najwyżej żeby przejść do toalety, czy wyjścia, ale po co w ogóle mówię o oczywistościach, każdy odbył taką podróż, żeby zrozumieć o czym mówię. Albo i nie. W każdym razie, owe trzy godziny osiemnaście minut siedziałem na zakupionej wcześniej miejscówce, rozmyślając. Śpieszyłem się bardzo, czy w ogóle o tym zapomniałem i nie wziąłem ze sobą ani gazety, ani książki. Bateria w telefonie padła, innej elektroniki brak. Więc patrzyłem się tępo w szybę, patrząc, jak zmienia się krajobraz, bez poczucia czasu, jedynie ze świadomością, że droga nie powinna zająć więcej niż było w rozkładzie. Było lato, więc nie spodziewałem się opóźnień, ale, wiadomo, wypadki się zdarzają. Pamiętam jakieś drzewa, polany, sarny, dziki i pola, żółte i ciężkie od zboża, czekającego na nadchodzące sianokosy. Stacji nie miało być wiele, dlatego tak żałuje owego stojącego miejsca na korytarzu. W każdym razie koło Miechowa, był jakiś ból egzystencjalny i rozważania nad bogiem i resztą metafizycznych cudów. Przy następnym postoju na stacji miałem więcej szczęścia, bo przystanek nazywał się Włoszczowa i łatwo odpłynąłem rozważaniami do polski prawicowej, narodowej. Do rządu religii, partii i piętnowania każdej odmienności. Do kadencji, w czasie której były budowane pomniki i wręczane medale, do kadencji, gdzie rotowały stołki w wysokich urzędach państwowych na rzecz tych prawych, według panującej partii. Naturalnie bardzo szybko w myślach wykrzyczałem moje deklaracje polityczne, wraz z tymi dotyczącymi wartości społecznych. Toczyłem walkę, patrząc w oczy mnie siedzącemu na tym samym miejscu, ale gdzieś tam w odbiciu. Mierzyłem się z nim, licząc, że on mrugnie pierwszy. Robiłem to bardzo intensywnie, długo, jednak ku mojemu zdziwieniu nie wygrałem. Byłem tak bardzo skupiony na tym konflikcie, krew wrzała mi w żyłach, zagłuszając nawet rytmiczne stukanie, że nie zauważyłem, jak do mojego, dotychczas pustego, przedziału wsiadła grupka mężczyzn i dopiero, kiedy poddałem się opadłszy z sił, nie mogąc dalej kontynuować owego konfliktu, uświadomiłem to sobie. Machali biletami z podwójnym blankietem, więc raczej mieli gdzieś wykupione miejsca, nie umiem powiedzieć, czy na pewno w tym przedziale, ale do końca drogi nikt nie upomniał się o swoje siedzenia, więc żadna różnica. Nie pamiętam kiedy właściwie zaczęliśmy – powiedział zbyt głośno ten siedzący koło mnie, ciemnowłosy, nieogolony. Miał dziwny akcent, ale dało się wszystko zrozumieć. No chyba całe życie, co chłopaki – zawtórował drugi, siedzący koło drzwi, z nie mniejszym zarostem i nieco rzadszymi włosami. Światło odbijało się od zaczątku gniazda, rażąc mnie refleksami. Nadal patrzyłem w pędzące drzewa za oknem, udając, ze spojrzenia i słowa moich kompanów do mnie nie docierają A ten to co? - zapytał ten pierwszy wskazując na mnie, gdy rechoty pozostałych na tyle przycichły, że mógł dalej kontynuować, widocznie trwającą od jakiegoś czasu, dysputę. Jakiś ułomny, albo pretensjonalny – zabłyszczał zaczynającą się łysiną ten spod drzwi. Po prostu jełop, cep, frajer debil. Debil, słyszysz, kretyn, ty psie. - rzucił ni stąd ni z owąd trzeci, ostatni, z brodą nieco przestylizowaną, ale czupryną nie mniej bujną niż pozostali. Z każdym wyrazem był bliżej i bliżej mnie, tak że nie mogłem dłużej ignorować wesołej kompanii. Chciałem spławić ich rozmową o pogodzie, ale przy ich szampańskim nastroju stwierdziłem, że może to być za słaby temat na panującą tu atmosferę, nie dająca się przeciąć niczym poza prostą kosą, pewnie pod żebra. Panowie to daleko jadą? – zaryzykowałem, dając im miejsce do popisu, zarówno statusu, pochodzenia, jak i pozostałych pięknych wyznaczników. Słyszeliście go chłopaki? Czy my jedziemy daleko – zripostował momentalnie pierwszy, wydaje się przywódca, po czym wybuchli wspólnym, miarowym, rytmicznym śmiechem. Ta, bo co – brylował dalej ten promienny z wyczuwalną groźbą czy innym instynktem w głosie. No, po akcencie mogę zauważyć, że nie Polacy. - odpowiedziałem, nie wiedząc, że podtrzymuje dalej rozmowę. Co, obcych się nie lubi? Wielki pan polaczek. Ledwo jest u siebie i już zaczyna rządzić i pozycjonować. - nie odpuszczał ten z promykiem we włosach. Generalnie przesiadamy się jeszcze kilka razy, jesteśmy z bardzo daleka – odparł nad wyraz dyplomatycznie ten dbający o wygląd bardziej niż pozostali. To długa droga przed panami – odparłem spokojnie i wróciłem do konkursu na mrugnięcia z twarzą z szyby. Chcesz, to możesz z nami jechać – zaproponował z podejrzanym uśmiechem ten trzeci i wręczając mi kubek, z którego pili wszyscy. Wziąłem łyka i tyle pamiętam z tego wieczora.

english version on http://blog.mecanismespourentente.eu/ text by Marek Mardosewicz

Transcarpatium: The Victim of Furrier from Cracow Story of brutal act of violence in Cracow: Furrier took a skin from his victim. text by Jarosław Wójtowicz

Did Katarzyna also belong to the group of people experimenting with drugs? Quite possibly. Her absence at the university for a few weeks before her death could suggest this theory. What could she have done at this time? Wander, drift, once again with a sense of loosing the meanings, err, knowing that the measures taken so far by her were accurate. She was tortured by guilt, because she didn’t realize the expectations of the family, but at the same time, she missed the opportunity to fulfil a dream, that perhaps she didn’t have the courage to realize. She may have been looking for opportunities in life in the wrong places, with the wrong people. Her shyness was the reason; she hid her goals even to herself. Her distrust, she could not go through. She sabotaged her own need to make changes, she did not know what decision was to be taken. I’m wondered by her photographic portraits. I can see more, trying to recognize the physiognomy, facial expression, way of looking and a kind of energy. I can watch the details and draw a different story. The mother of Katarzyna hired a detective to search for her daughter. A few months long investigation had been ineffective. The trail was found by accident. January 6, 1999. River Boat “Moose” (“Łoś”) sailed on the Vistula River close to Zabłocie. The crew just wanted to moor. Suddenly the screw propeller turned off slowly and the captain suggested that something could have blocked the machine. When the sailors removed the screw propeller, it became clear that the reason was human skin. The “Moose” was a pusher. It was used to push larger river ships. As it turned out to be, the boat pushed part of the human body: a surgical precision-made “leather jacket” human skin. The police found another fragment of leg. The press announced to the public: “January 14th (...) Among the floating wood

and garbage in the shore of the river, the police found a leg with a cut in the knee and fragments of pants. The location of cuts matched those found in the skin”. DNA tests confirmed that the skin and the body parts belonged to Katarzyna. We still didn’t know who could have committed the murder. If this was meant to expose the muscle tissue of the body, made with precision by a trained hand apparently knowledgeable on those things, it was only for pornographic pleasure. FBI employees who are interested in the case of “furrier” as a precedent in criminology, compared Katarzyna’s murder to the movie Silence of the Lambs, and provoked to see the killer as the “Polish Hannibal Lecter”. This film could have fascinated the perpetrator. I

can imagine him as an intellectual, perhaps a medical student, intern or a surgeon or physician with privileges to practice. It’s hard for me to imagine him as an amateur who does not have a clue about how the autopsy and how to cut up the body to separate as much as possible each individual tissue. How else could he have learnt it, if not in college, internships, trainee or as a student of medicine or related fields of technical knowledge? How somebody who would not have the opportunity to learn the technical skills of cutting the flesh in a proper way, could master the technique to such an extent that it was possible to the press to tell that a sewed leather jacket from human skin apparently could be wore? Perhaps it is true that he had a huge need to identify himself to the victim whom he pulled the skin from, and wear it when he needed. He could need a replacement of “ego”, which turned out to be impossible to use, and that’s why he finally threw the skin into the river.

In Cluj we met the station chief. He showed us the romanian train network map. In the evening Kubo and ﾅ「kasz made a concert together in the Fabrica de Pensule.

photo by Marta Jonville

photo by ﾅ「kasz Jastrubczak

Several motives on letter S - sculptures

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Mechanisms For An Entente Deadline staff: Valérie de Saint-Do = editor Tomas Matauko = co-editor Łukasz Jastrubczak = design & layout Mathieu Lericq = corrector and translator Judit Kurtág = corrector

List of participants of the project: Agata Dutkowska Alexis Emery-Dufoug Beáta Kolbašovská Cristina David , Desmesure collective / Agathe & Fred Edyta Masior Filip Przybyłko Guillaume du Boisbaudry Jan Sowa Jarosław Wójtowicz Joanna Bednarczyk Judit Kurtág Julie Chovin Kubo Pisek László Milutinovits Lujza Magová Łukasz Jastrubczak Małgorzata M. Dudek Marek Mardosewicz Marta Jonville Mathieu Lericq Nils Clouzeau Palce Lizac – Dominika & Barbara Paul Maquaire Roman Dziadkiewicz Seydou Grépinet Simon Quéheillard Thomas Desmaison Tomas Matauko Valérie de Saint-Do The main issue of “Mechanisms For An Entente” is the production of a multiform collective artwork, to promote a deep aesthetic, philosophical and political reasoning about the becoming of Central European countries in relation to the idea of the European Union. We want to work the nature of the European condition. edition of 150 copies / july 17th 2013 Kosice printed in Copyvait by Boris Vaitovic http://blog.mecanismespourentente.eu >