I am chugging through the German countryside south of Munich, white and brown cows in green fields to my left, an ancient red roofed village to my right. The train is headed for Rome, and up to now, my grand European tour by train has been nothing but a pleasure, relaxing in first class seats with little snacks brought to me while I tap away on the computer.
Breakfast on the Deutschebahn train
A Eurail ticket for six days first class unlimited travel through four countries costs less than two economy return flights between Joburg and Cape Town, and I can highly recommend it. Up to now, that is. This train is uncomfortably full, and on top of that, instead of proceeding to Bologna where I would have changed for Rome, there has just been an announcement that passengers to Italy will have to get off the train at Innsbruck and catch a bus to Brenner and get another train to Bologna from there. Damn.
To go back to the beginning of this trip, my first stop was Bern in Switzerland, for the annual Nominators Day of the Sommerkademie of the Paul Klee Centre. For this event, 12 under 35 artists are nominated from around the world, and come together for 12 days of intense workshops and art experiences. This year, the event kicked off with presentations by each of the fellows, a display of highly accomplished and diverse practices. (Outside the train window the landscape is getting rapidly more mountainous, forested slopes crowned with clouds). One South African nominee had been awarded a fellowship - Mohau Modisakeng – but he was not amongst the other fellows. The story was that he had not applied for a visa until the last minute and would arrive the following Tuesday. He never did show up.
From Bern, which also included such cooling activities as blowing bubbles at sunset next to the river, (top pic), I went to the Basque coast of France, Biarritz, to spend a few days with my brother, and then up to Paris. My hotel here was the La Louisiane, perfectly located off the Boulevard St Germain, and really reasonable. Gus van Sant is said to make this his Paris stop.
Surfboarding class on the Biarritz beach
I only have 24 hours in Paris, so I have to make some quick decisions. Gerhard Richter is showing at the Pompidou. A good place to start. Outside the Pompidou an old man with a trolley is feeding a vast flock of pigeons with purloined cake.
Let them eat cake
Inside, Richter’s retrospective takes us through the whole career of the master German painter, from his early monochromatic paintings based on black and white photographs with seductively smudged edges through to his gorgeous colour portraits and abstractions. The lucid artist’s statements which accompany the changes in direction give a clear insight into Richter’s thoughts.
One of Gerhard Richter’s portraits of his daughter Betty
From here, it’s on to La Maison Rouge, an art gallery constructed around an old red house, which will host an exhibition of South African art as part of the South Africa/France cultural season next year. Foamy suds are sliding down the roof and into the courtyard as I leave for my last stop of the day, the Palais de Tokyo, where the Paris Triennale is in its final days.
La Maison Rouge
I have a dinner date, so cannot linger, and do not see Nicholas Hlobo’s piece or Guy Tillim’s photos, but I am again struck by Chris Ofili’s’ gorgeous paintings, two executed in the style which filled the British Pavilion in Venice in 2006 - a palette of red, green and black dots, made brilliant by the addition of tiny mirrors, and a later work, in the lush ochres, inky greens, wines and purples of a Gauguin.
Chris Ofili on the Paris Triennale
Reaching the Gare de l’Est at an early hour at which tout Paris seems still asleep – or perhaps it’s just because it’s Saturday – I board the train for Kassel, home of the most important contemporary art event in the world, so carefully planned it happens only once every five years. I’m talking of course about Documenta (13), curated this time around by Carolyn Christov Bakargiev.
From tomorrow I will be viewing the delights – or otherwise - of Documenta with writer Sean O’ Toole and artist Lisa Brice, but on this first afternoon I will go to one of the most highly recommended works – a performance experience by Tino Seghal. The line to enter the door of what looks like a garden shed is long. And when you get to the door, one steps into a room which is totally pitch black. Nothing visible. But ones ears become ones eyes … chanting, humming, rhythmic explosive sounds are happening all around. Someone pats me lightly on the chest in passing. It’s like being thrown blindfolded onto a stage where something really interesting is going on. A visceral body experience in which one feels even more included in this charismatic group as one’s eyes gradually become accustomed to the dim light and can ascertain the performers, who on one occasion drop to the ground and wriggle between the legs of the disconcerted audience.
Gerard Byrne’s A man and a woman make love
An hour passes, and I leave, moving next door to the fifties style ballroom on an old hotel, where Gerard Byrne’s piece A man and a woman make love is projected onto a number of screens set at angles around the floor. It’s an acted out conversation between members of the surrealist group on the mechanics and conventions of lovemaking.
I have four more days of Documenta, and I can’t wait.
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