A lot more progress
Since my worries on Friday, quite a lot has been achieved to calm me down. Firstly, we had two meetings on Friday – at the Lebanese artists’ association Ashkal Alwan, and then later with the organisers of the 98WEEKS project.
The first of these was quite informative in relation to the art scene Lebanon – it would appear in particular that there is not very much in the way of structure in the country in this regard, which is clearly not surprising given its recent history. It seems that business is conducted in a much more informal and personal basis than in western Europe, with small groups forming and with perhaps quite a tribal mentality as a result. It is hard not to make mental comparisons with Lebanese society as a whole.
Later, we sat in the improbably-cold surroundings of Café De Prague, whose air conditioning could do to be turned down a few notches. We were there to meet with Marwa Arsanios and Mirene Arsanios, the founders of 98WEEKS. Theirs is a project with some similarities to Here As The Centre Of The World, in that it will involve Lebanese and foreign artists and will focus on public space. Afterwards, we were faced with the strange contrast from normal proceedings when we went outside to get away from the cold…
Later, we saw a (not very interesting) street performance which was part of the street festival organised by our host, Zico House. This took place in the newly-reconstructed city centre, which has been entirely rebuilt from the ground up following its total destruction during the Civil War. What is quite alarming is that fact that it is entirely built and managed by a private company, so that this in effect not really “public” space at all. As we see with American corporations in Iraq, it is often the private sector who stand to make the most from war and its aftermath.
Despite our meetings, I was still quite agitated on Friday night when we met up once again with Tony in the evening for a drink. I was getting increasingly panicked about the lack of a visible result from our trip. My state of mind was not made any better by the presence at our table of the famous curator Catherine David, who happens to know Tony. I really tense up around such “important” people, especially when they are the type whom it is necessary to impress in order to make it big in the art world.
She was something of a living, breathing stereotype: an absurd caricature of a middle-aged Frenchwoman, nonchalantly sipping whisky and smoking theatrically out of the side of her mouth, gazing wistfully into the air after every puff. Perhaps she’s OK once you get to know her.
My impatience caused a bit of tension between myself and Nikos and Alite later, which I feel quite bad about. They are both used to working at quite a different tempo to myself. I hope very much that we can find some sort of middle ground, with perhaps a bit more urgency from them and a bit more patience from me.
On Saturday, we went once again to Café De Prague to interview Bchara Malkoun, one of the other participants from the workshop in 2006. We fired questions at him for almost two hours, recording the whole thing on tape. This proved to be much too ambitious, and in fact I have spent about five hours transcribing the whole bloody conversation, the result of which is no less than twenty-two pages long. This is a concrete result, but perhaps a bit too concrete.
We have been eating almost exclusively from Barbar, a snack bar down the road which appears to be open twenty-four hours a day. They sell a sort of folded-over pizza for 2000 Lebanese Lire, which is not much more than €1. This delicious snack plus very strong coffee has been the main fuel for our activities.
On Sunday, after I had finally finished transcribing the interview with Bchara, we went for an appointment with his fellow workshop participant Ghassan Halawani at the Sports Club bar on the beach, this time with a drastically-reduced set of questions. On the way, we had time to stop and wander around a rusty and dilapidated old funfair, seemingly staffed only by swarthy-looking children. The sentimental Arabic music that blasted from an ancient stereo system held together with tape completed the atmosphere of forlorn abandonment.
The interview with Ghassan went well, in fact so well that we didn’t have time to interview Reine, who had come to meet us once again with her baby and husband. Hopefully we will have time to talk tomorrow.
