Old nomads and new landscapes. Tiny Spaces Deep Connections, Day 4

Civitaveccia - Roma - Bologna - Rovereto

I slept like a rose in the red poppy room (Papavero, the other 2 rooms are called Ortensia and Mimosa) in a B&B in the centre of town. I wake up early and go for a walk. The first seedbombs of the day I leave in a little field around a tree under a permanent rainbow. The rainbow colours are everywhere around this square, a symbol of peace, tolerance and the acceptance and embracing of otherness. Since the 70s it has been used as a symbol by the LGBTQ community. Civitavecchia Pride, a 3 day event, is starting today but I have a train to catch to Rome, from there to Bologna and then Rovereto, where La Foresta is located.
The train to Rome stops at many small stations, sometimes in the middle of fields, and the seedbombs land inbetween abundantly growing plants and crops. 

The landscapes—if you can call them that—at the main station in Rome couldn’t be more opposed to each other. We arrive in a far corner of the complex where everything is rough and wild and chaotic and I think my seeds will like it here, but what I mean of course is that I like it here. I also like it when I arrive at the other side though, where the train to Bologna is already waiting. The area in front of the buffer stops or bumper blocks has been turned into a little meadow with abundantly growing plants and yellow flowers. In the middle there is an olive tree. A water system keeps the plants and the tree in good shape and I think my seeds might like it here as well but on second thought I am starting to doubt: cosmea thrive in poorer soils with little care. No reason not to leave them there: as Masanobo Fukuoka says, seeds know best themselves and we human beings can try to create the perfect—according to our human minds—conditions for them, especially when we want to use what they produce, but sometimes it is better to see what happens and how nature organises itself. It didn’t need us to thrive before we existed and it won’t if one day humans are no longer around.

When leaving the station 40 minutes after I arrived I think about the people who got really excited about my itinerary when I told them where the trains would bring me. Leon! Valencia! Barcelona! Rome! All beautiful cities indeed, but the focus during this journey isn’t on visiting cities. I’ve never been in Rome. And I still haven’t really. “What a pity!” somebody said, “Why don’t you stay longer in those places?” “Because I am working and I’ve got a specific task to fulfill” I answered, “I am not on holiday”. I rather stay in nature or villages or small cities anyway so I don’t feel any regret when my 2 hours in Bologna are spend in and around the railway station,. First I explore the area below ground level where there is no daylight but a resting area filled with plants that are kept alive with artificial light and a little birch tree that upon inspection turns out to be made out of plastic. I double check the other plants, but they are indeed all alive and breathing. Breathing in their own way: exchanging gases—oxygen and carbon dioxide— through their microscopic pores—stomata— and roots. Whereas human beings inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide, plants do the opposite.

The last stretch to Revereto I embroider a question while the 3 people next to me and the 4 on the other side are all on their phones. It is a bit crammed but fortunately I have fed the sourdough starter on the train to Bologna. It stands quietly on the little table and nobody takes an interest in it.
Martina welcomes me at the station and we sit for a while on the bench in front of the building of La Foresta, a Community Academy, catching up. When I looked into places that could be interesting to visit on my journey, La Foresta was on the top of my list because of their work with community building, education, art and gardening. When I got in touch I got an answer from Martina, who has been working there since three years, but who I have known for more than 10 years and hadn’t been in touch with in the last years. We once spent time together in the Nomadic Village on a mountain in Austria and afterwards in a former factory surrounded by other artists during Schmiede. It was a complete surprise that she is here and a joy to see her again.

To be at sea. Tiny Spaces Deep Connections, Day 3

 At sea - Civitavecchia

The hour of the wolf. I wake up in the middle of the night, slightly sad I missed out on the evening entertainment, if there was any. There is a casino but I am not sure if it opened. Surely at least one of the bars stayed open, and there might still be people up and about, especially the ones who have a sleeping chair instead of a cabin. I feel privileged, sharing my ferry room with a bubbling jar only. The round window is big enough to sit in and I spend some time there, staring out over the moonlit water. It is almost painfully beautiful. It isn’t silent, I guess it is never really silent on a boat, with its machines pumping to get us all across, but I feel silent. The starter is always silent, although when it is peaking and bubbly, it defenitely makes sounds. 
In the morning I explore and get lost a few times. There is a spa on board with a sauna and a jacuzzi with a view and an open air swimming pool on the top deck. I install myself in the large room with the stage, now empty. People are drinking coffee or watching the tv in the corner. A curious little boy comes up to me, wondering what I am doing and I explain that there is something alive in the jar that you can use to make bread. He looks at it in wonder and I am not sure if he understands or how he has translated this information but he seems to have realised something and when his mother comes to see if he is bothering me, he explains to her what is in the jar. “It is alive!” he says, “and it makes bread!” She laughs and tells him: “Yes, that is how your grandmother always makes bread, didn’t you know?’ He shakes his head, but I think that next time when he visits his grandmother he will remember.
At some point, when we are are still hours away from dry land, a little bird lands and flutters around in the outside bar. It doesn’t look like it belongs here, it is either a stowaway or it got caught in a strong wind and was blown in the wrong direction. Or maybe not, maybe it is a travelling bird. 
All outdoor surfaces are slowly being covered in a thin layer of sea salt. It foms oval shapes on the decks and when you slide your hand over the railing, it is covered in salt. I start collecting it from areas that aren’t in contact with any polluting agents, thinking it might be nice to use it when baking bread later. 
It feels like a desperate act to throw seedballs overboard here, how long will it take for them to reach a shore? And if they do, will the seeds survive the salty water? I give it a go anyway, but only when land is in sight. Italy, Civitaveccia.

Yes and no. Tiny Spaces Deep Connections, Day 2

Valencia - Barcelona - Civitavecchia

I work in the area of the hostel from where I can see the trains. Sitting in front of the window I feed the starter, fill jars, write labels. People who just got off a train or people who are about to travel pass by, some stop to look at what I am doing, somebody even tries to scan a QR code through the window. When I make a hand gesture to invite him inside he shakes his head and points at his wrist where there is no watch but I know what he means.
Matilde arrives and we talk about her Institute of linear Research and Sociópolis, an iconic “unfinished” social housing urban development in the outskirts of Valencia about which she wrote her PhD. She gives me a little tour through de Estacion del Norte, showing me her favorite parts. In the train to Barcelona I have an aisle seat, something i normally don’t like. When I travel on a train I prefer to sit at the window so I can look out at the landscape. This journey, working on the train and meeting people comes first and an aisle seat is more practical because it is easier to move around if I want to. It is also less private, and since there is a performative aspect to what I am doing, the more visible I am, the better. This time there is a restaurant car (I think that is what the wagon containing a place where you can get drinks and snacks is called), there are no proper tables or seats but you can hang around, drink coffee, stare out of the window or chat with other passengers. A man who is drinking his coffee next to me inquires after the suit and I tell him my story. He gives me a question, Sí o no, explaining that when he was younger, he was often in doubt about or even fearful of things that were new to him but lately he started just saying yes more. It had brought him in some awkward situations but it mainly gave him a lot of wonderful experiences. When I return to my seat I embroider his question while thinking about it, about his “yes”, but also about the art of saying “no” when you know it will disappoint somebody but it is necessary in order to take care of yourself.

It is strange and normal at the same time to arrive in Barcelona, a city I know so well because I lived there for many years. I hope to meet two Austrian artists who are visiting the city and I hang around the Columbus monument that is loved by many but equally despised by many—it is a symbol of colonialism—, trying to organise a meeting point but in the end there is too little time. I leave a little jar with sourdough starter on the chair I was sitting on and make my way to the ferry. I don’t remember the last time I travelled in this way, it will be a whole new adventure, 22 hours at sea.

Taking off. Tiny Spaces Deep Connections, Day 1

Fontao - Monforte de Lemos - Leon - Valencia

A planting ritual before taking off. Or not really a ritual, just a planting of Cosmos Daydream seeds. The first flowers-to-be of a trail leading through Europe, marking my journey. In the last week before I left I made seedbombs, little balls of soil and clay and nutrients and seeds. I carry them in the pockets of my suit, so I have them at hand whenever there is a good location to drop or throw them. The suit I am wearing has accompanied me on earlier projects. A three piece business suit that has questions embroidered on it. I collected them in all kinds of encounters with people, through social media or walking around. The idea is to add peoples’ questions during the project. I love both the slow process of embroidering and the act of walking the questions around.
I am also travelling with a sourdough starter, and one of the important questions during my journey is: how do you take care of a more-than-human entity? Or maybe less specific: what is it like to take a sourdough starter on a long journey? There are all sorts of tips online about how to travel with your starter, but they are all about making it as easy as possible for the person travelling. How will it influence my journey if I will focus on the wellbeing of the community of bacteria and yeast in the jar that neatly fits in the pocket of my jacket? 
I fed the starter in the morning and filled some little jars with the discard. The jars have the name of my project on them: The Bureau of Slow Endeavours, plus a QR code that links to a page on the website explaining how to take care of a sourdough starter. 

A slow train to Leon where I have two hours to spare. I imagined working in the restauration wagon but it wasn’t in use today. I talk for a while with the woman sitting next to me and offer her some sourdough starter but she gets a bit nervous about having to look after it and declines my offer. Whenever the train stops, I walk to the area inbetween the wagons and when the doors open, I try to spot the best area for plants to thrive (which isn’t always easy) and throw some seedbombs. 

In Leon I pass the stone lions guarding the city and cross the big river. In the park I find the perfect spot for my cosmos daydream seeds. When it is time to go back to the station I leave a little jar at the bench where I ate my lunch. I am not sure if anybody will take it. Would you if you found a mysterious container with a little message and a QR code on it? 

The second train does have a little bar on board and I get into a deep conversation with a young couple who are very excited about adopting a community of bacteria and yeast. “It is like a pet!” she says. And in a way it is. An American tourist hesitates, she would love to take some starter with her but she will be travelling for another week and isn’t sure if she can take it back home with her. “You can also make it at home yourself” I tell her. “But I want this one!” she exclaims. 

I embroider a question on the back of my waistcoat, “What does remoteness mean?”. Tomorrow I am meeting Matilde who did research about the notion of remoteness. I put it on the back of my waistcoat, where I can’t see it. There is still a big empty area there, uncovered, empty space.

In Valencia, I walk from the station where I arrive to the station where I will sleep. The hostel is situated inside the station building. From my bunkbed I can see the tracks. What is the best place to put the starter overnight? There is a fridge in a communal space but it might be hard to wake it up tomorrow morning if it has cooled down too much. The bedroom with 16 beds is hot and no food is allowed inside. Is it food? I guess it counts as food but I am making my own rules. Before going to sleep I feed it with extra cold water from the bottle I put in the fridge upon arrival and the flower I brought from home. I hide it between my mattrass and the wall.

Cosmos Daydreams

 

Next week I’ll travel through Europe by train leaving a trail of Cosmos Daydream seeds. This particular Cosmos Bipinnatus, a flowering plant in the daisy family Asteracea, grows to more than a metre in height and it has dreamy pink flowers with a yellow heart. It is best sown in May or June and it doesn’t need much care. They look wild and sophisticated at the same time.

I love that name, Cosmos Daydream, and I worked with the seeds in the past, once using them to grow the ground plan of my apartment in a farmer’s field when I couldn’t return home during Covid.

After arriving at Inwole/Projekthaus Potsdam for Tiny Spaces Deep Connections (a 2-year research initiative designed to develop a more sustainable model for artist residencies) and living in a tiny house creating new work, I will travel back, spreading more seeds.

 

The trail will lead through these places: Fontao - Monforte de Lemos - Leon - Valencia - Barcelona - Civitaveccia - Roma - Bologna - Rovereto - München - Berlin - Potsdam - Berlin - Karlsruhe - Paris - Toulouse - Narbonne - Barcelona.

 

If you’re on my route and would like to meet up, let me know! I’ll be handing out little jars of my travel companion (a sourdough starter) as well.

Notions of care

This is my sourdough starter. It has been moving around with me in the last year and a half and in less than 3 weeks we will go on a journey as the Bureau of Slow Endeavours from Galicia in Spain to Potsdam in Germany. A 6 day journey by train and boat as part of Tiny Spaces Deep Connections, a 2-year research initiative designed to develop a more sustainable model for artist residencies. A sourdough starter, masa madre —mother dough— in Spanish, is used to make bread but I am just as interested, maybe even more, in experiencing how working with —which means living with— an other-than-human organism opens up a thinking process about notions of care and how to relate to non-human entities. I have to admit I haven’t given it the best care possible in the last months, sometimes storing it in the fridge for longer periods of time or throwing out the so called discard—the part you don’t need when feeding your starter—instead of using it for something other than making bread. 

 

It is still not too warm in Galicia so I use wool from the sheep that are herded on the heath close to my house in the Netherlands to keep my starter warm and happy.

 

Can a community of bacteria and yeast be happy? And does my sourdough starter have a name (people asked me)? Which leads to the subject of anthropomorphism: the attribution of human traits, emotions, intentions or behaviours to non-human entities. More about that some other time. 

 

 

 

In search of connections for Tiny Spaces Deep Connections

The Bureau of Slow Endeavours will embark on a new journey in June. I have been invited by Tiny Spaces Deep Connections to travel by public transport (train/bus/boat, no flying) from the Bureau’s new headquarters in Fontao, Galicia (Spain) to Inwole in Potsdam (Germany). The residency offers a unique opportunity to research slow travel while creatively integrating the journey into the artistic process. At Inwole, an educational and cultural association focusing on political and cultural education, sustainability and solidarity-based economies, I will live and work in a tiny house/trailer at the Project House Potsdam-Babelsberg for three weeks, connecting and collaborating with the local community before travelling back slowly.

I will travel with a mobile version of the Bureau of Slow Endeavours that will have 3 components: 
1. travelling with a living culture: a sourdough starter (bacteria & yeast) that has to be fed and taken care of during the journey and can be shared with people I encounter (because it multiplies very fast) 
2. cosmos daydream seeds that will be dispersed along the route, creating a living trail of the journey & collecting new seeds while travelling 
3. collection of (natural) materials that can be used for drawing and will be used to both document the journey (during and after) and the on-site explorations but are also an integral part of the journey because they are found on the way (f.e.: plant material to turn into wild ink, liquids, pigments, grease, mud, anything that leaves a mark when put on paper). 
I will wear a business suit, aka three-piece-walking suit. In the last 10 years, I’ve been doing many slow projects using a suit in a non-conventional way as an anti-capitalist act. I call my suit my Soft Armour, it keeps me warm, safe, sound, it opens doors. It is my uniform, my costume, my house, I use it to collect stories in and it is as comfortable as any outfit I can think of, especially because I don’t mind when it gets dirty, torn, worn out, when the world leaves its traces. The suit I’ll be wearing is covered in hand embroidered questions people have been asking me during earlier projects and while travelling I’ll collect new ones and embroider them on the suit.

Workshops connected to the 3 components that can be organised during the travelling and/or on-site: working with sourdough/fermentation processes, guerilla gardening with seedbombs, using & making natural and alternative drawing materials, slow practises/walking art

I am looking for connections and exchanges on the road. People who can host me for a night (or 2 if you’d like me to give a proper presentation or workshop). This can be very low-key: you offer me a bed or sofa and I’ll share my sourdough culture and knowledge about using it with you (and friends or family if you’d like them to take part), embroider your question on my suit, leave some cosmos daydream seeds on your windowsill or in your garden, share my stories from the road. This can also be at a cultural, art or educational institution where I can do the same but also give a presentation or workshop. 

I am looking for places to stay and exchange:
* 1-7 June in: Northern Spain/Basque Country/Barcelona or a city like Madrid with a good connection to France (around June 1-2), France (around June 2-4), Northern Italy/Switzerland/Austria (around June 3-6), Southern Germany (June 6-7)
* 29/30 June: Paris
* 30 June/1 July: Barcelona
* First week of July: anywhere in Spain
But I am open to making detours if it can fit my planning

More info about me here
More info about Tiny Spaces Deep Connections here

You can write me at mwabesten@gmail.com or connect through facebook, instagram, whatsapp