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No time for blogging.

signa — Fri, 21 Sep 2007 23:54:00 +0000

Berlin & Dox

signa — Thu, 16 Nov 2006 00:04:52 +0000

We have been to Berlin looking around for a building for our project there next year. A great week, learned a lot, saw a lot – and found the perfect building which we maybe – maybe not – will be allowed to use. Now we are back in Copenhagen where we once again sink into the rainy darkness of Danish winter.

At the Copenhagen Documentary Film Festival we have so far experienced:

- The Great Happiness Space – tale of an Osaka love-thief. In the documentary we learned about Japanese host clubs where young men sell expensive champagne and their charming company to young women who in most cases have to prostitute themselves in other club to pay the sky high bar bills. Unbelievable – yet these boys sometimes reminded me of how I was feeling back when I was a hostess at Venus Bar.

- Ulrich Seidl master class. Today we saw one of the most amazing films ever: “Mit Verlust ist zu rechnen” from 1992. I can not find ways to describe how touching and truly beautiful I find this portrait of people living in the Austrian/Czech borderland shortly after the borders were opened. We saw clips from other of his films too – equally chilling and grand. Mr. Seidl was there himself patiently answering questions and putting up with a very poor translation.

Soon we will go deep into to the basement under Turbinehallerne the changeling to prepare for special 12 hour treatments for a small courageous audience in February. We will also soon go to Cologne, to Vienna and to Arthur´s home town Laakirchen – reports to come on this blog!

Now some pictures from Berlin:

An abandoned small town brothel

signa — Fri, 20 Oct 2006 23:05:13 +0000

My grandmother lives next to this house. It is situated behind the public toilets on a parking space where the truckers stop to rest. Acording to my grandmother the brothel was closed down because the police discovered that illegal East European prostitutes were working there. From her window she has often seen heavily made up women way past their prime patroling the front porch. Now the house is empty, windows are smashed and the doors wide open. Arthur and I went inside to take a look. The house was moist and uncomfortable and the rooms strikingly unpersonal – everything has seemingly been cheeply restored in the nineties. A filthy mattress beside a large pile of cigaret buds indicates that somebody spends the nights here. S

6100 Hatesville

signa — Fri, 20 Oct 2006 14:55:44 +0000

I grew up in Haderslev, a town in the southern part of the Danish mainland. Arthur and I have come here to lick our wounds from The Seven Tales of Misery, while my parents are away on some German island. The house is big and cold and in the garden a thousand autumn roses are blooming. My old room is empty, the walls have been painted white and through the curtainless windows the panoramic view of my pityful home town is almost the same as in the cruel days when I was trapped here. I am still cursed by bitter memories of loneliness and school yard brutality.

Yesterday I took my husband on a walk through the childhood streets and down the abandoned railroad to the harbour. Here are some pictures from where I wasted my childhood years and tears. Shame on Haderslev! S

All the world

signa — Sat, 26 Aug 2006 15:42:11 +0000

Ever heard of that Club called “All the World” at Reeperbahn in Hamburg?

Campfire Residue

signa — Wed, 14 Jun 2006 23:33:24 +0000

On one of these crispy winter afternoons we went to the hills and the high rise houses of Bellahøj. In the snow I stumbled upon the mysterious remains of a campfire. In the ashes I collected the following objects: an old red devil´s mask torn into pieces, playing cards, African heads (50es wall decoration), several purple crystals and a jadeite frog. I am still puzzled and drawn to the site. S.

Suicide Season / We Are No Flies

signa — Fri, 19 May 2006 18:25:17 +0000

On our way home from Berlin, our train had to change the usual route. A voice in the speaker told us in three languages, that they had to clear the tracks from the body, that´s just been hit by the train ahead of us.
Like autumn leaves, we start to fall now. In front of a hard train, on wet concrete or into an everlasting, barbitural sleep. It´s dark at this time in the north, and if we were allowed to have guns, we would die like flies now.
Apropos flies. The worlds most popular suicide is made by a Danish company. Asian farmers enjoy Cheminova´s “first class” insecticides. 150000 people drink that stuff in China every year, and most of them regret. But “first class” means highly toxic…
Here in the west, most suicides regret too, but as we prefer sleeping pills, it´s easier to get back. It´s sad, but there´s always a connection between access and rates.
Yeah, it´s lonely and cold, and if you think, that nobody loves you, I can guarantee loneliness, even if the whole world loves you.
Yes, you are alone. But you are not a fly, goddamnit. So play with yourself, or call your friend Prozac

. Your ship is coming in. A

Bremen Moods

signa — Sat, 08 Apr 2006 13:35:58 +0000

There is not much to write about Bremen. But then again, we never made it past the train station. S&A

Master of Art

signa — Wed, 29 Mar 2006 22:31:11 +0000

This is the Royal Danish Academy of Arts.
In the past seven years it did its best to make me what I´ll soon be called on paper: a master of art.
I met many good people there, but masters are rare. Most important to me was undoubtedly the technical advisors and the secretaries. Thanks, A

Horses

signa — Fri, 10 Mar 2006 08:41:45 +0000

At the old wooden restaurant by the race-course I was loading eighty bleak plastic chairs into a truck. Something to fill up our storage and to destroy my back. A single horseman was doing rounds. The sound was low in the snow and some comfortable twilight fell over the scenery. I´ll bet a day on that rider. A