BLENDED GAZE – GIANNY PÄNG by GIANNY PÄNG

30 April 2013

This is an ongoing and fluid blog-post, continually updated and edited. The post collates texts, notes, reprints, interviews, photographs, drawings and recordings produced by different figures melting into the “person” of Gianny Päng.  

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This fabric is immediately associated with Africa. Maybe we could even say that it stands for African identity. Actually it comes from Indonesia and was later produced by Portuguese manufacturers to be sold on the Indonesian market. Then, English makers started to produce it and exported it in West Africa, where it was so popular to become identified as African.
This fabric, then, tells me something about notions of cultural “originality”, “autenticity” and “identity” in our world, in our age. I want to look at Live Arts Week through this fabric.

In the exhibition We, the frozen storm, Elise Florenty and Marcel Türkowsky enact a kaleidoscopic gaze on identities with a sort of deviant archeological attitude that builds minor histories focusing on cultural mythologies, rituals, legends and misunderstandings.They follow the steps of symptoms, traces, documents and legends on the slippages among different cultures. They draw portraits of characters, practices and symbols embodying unauthentic and impure identities. A path in a subterranean former shelter becomes a multilayered travel from the self to the other, from here to there, from history to the present. And back. An exercise of perspective reversal.
I listened to Dracula Lewis and Out4Pizza performance with the same gaze: I found another hybrid entity, another language coming from blended dialects, or a dynamic system of interaction among heterogeneous popular cultures. A clash of sub genres and imageries merged and diffracted into a dirty and obscure sound substrate.


I wonder: can this be thought in terms of Creolization?


Creolization is unpredictable.

Someone told me an interesting story about The Musée National des Arts et Traditions Populaires in Paris.
It has been closed since 2005 and whilst awaiting to be dismembered in order to move to the Musée des Civilisations de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée in Marseille, it has been chosen as the set for The Host and the Cloud by Pierre Huyghe (2010). But it does not take so long to realize that its empty halls, its laboratories, the auditorium and the objects still arranged in the glass cases are not just a backdrop, but they are rather the true protagonists of the film.
As the Overlook Hotel in The Shining, this building does not only house the scenes, but it leads them through its own rooms. The only difference is that, unlike Kubrick’s Hotel, this museum really exists. It exists in its suspension, fixed in its set-up inspired to the Seventies, designed by “the magicien des vitrines”, Georges-Henri Rivière. In 1937, it was right Rivière who found inadequate the ethnographic section dedicated to France at the Musée d’Ethnographie du Trocadéro, which opened in 1884. So, he began to conceive a new museum that could be able to give an overview of the traditional French society, from the late nineteenth century until his time. Many difficulties marked this project, however it was not abandoned. It was realized only in the first half of the Seventies, when the museum opened in the building that the architect Jean Dubuisson had specifically designed at the Jardin d’acclimatation of the Bois de Boulogne. In the halls and in the glass cases, the centrality is given to the objects which are presented in their nakedness, hanged with nylon threads that leave them in mid-air, offering by this way a much more careful observation to the viewer , but certainly also a bit of displacement.
The installations and the dummies – with their trivializing fiction – have no place in Rivière’s glass cases, which in the meantime had laid the foundation of the concept of eco-museum [écomusée], a museum that does not need to be enclosed in a building, but that it is open and immersed in the flow of everyday life. And maybe this genial intuition contained within itself the reason behind the fast obsolescence of the Musée National des Arts et Traditions Populaires: it is not possible to preserve life into the glass cases, even if we constantly renovate them.
Since the Nineties, in fact, from one side because of the distance from the center of Paris, from the other one because of the lack of interest in anthropological themes, there has been a sharp decline in interest from the public, which led to the decision to close the museum. Its collections, along with those of other national museums and new acquisitions, will flow into the new Musée des Civilisations de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, which will open in June 2013.
Meanwhile, shooted in three days of celebration in 2010, the alienating atmosphere of the closed museum inspires and amplifies the scenes –that are suspended and alienating, too – of Pierre Huyghe’s film.

I literally felt out of place in front of Muna Mussie’s Monkey see, Monkey do. I should say that it’s a rare condition for me as spectator. A special one. I have to add: uncanny. This performance is built on the minimal geometric calculation of the duration of two figures (two twins), who walk and activate a pedestrian rhetoric. It seems to thematise the unsettling experience of being objectified by the other  in some way (the image of an “Ideal-I”?), mirrored in the frame of the visible. It isn’t, in fact, a work on the “double” but a performance experience of a primordial stage.
Between the MIRROR STAGE and the MIRROR NEURONS.
Therefore, the question to be asked ourselves is: where is the language in the recognition of oneself as “I” which comes out from the difference between the two girls? The symbolic order of the language passed through a re-nominated fragmented body that tries to focus on a écriture féminine.
The appealing fascinum that attracted my gaze in that walking performance probably was due to a strange sense of inadequacy I was dealing with when the two performers uncover the mirror wall on the bottom. It mirrored the scene, the girls and the general spectators. We were involved into the scenario as a part of the image in the field of the visible. The interior overturns with the exterior in a material torsion and creates an effect that invests the very foundations of the performance.
That final, fatal and unexpected encounter with that mirrored image held simultaneously the maximum of subjectivity and the maximum of de-subjectification. We were facing a stage misrecognition as perturbing upset of the familiar: the fact that we were part of the performance as intruders. It refers to the problem of the figurability of the subject, in the sense that it doesn’t provide a representation of the subject, but rather a representation of the limits of its possible representation. At the end, it revealed a new punctum of view.

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/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ I met BAROKTHEGREAT /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sara Manente told me about the performance Faire un four. The title is “an expression which comes from the 17th century theatre world and means ‘to suffer a defeat’”. Literally it means ‘to make an oven’ but it almost sounds like ‘to make a four’, hence ‘a quartet’”.
Four people (two boys and two girls) compose verbal (homophone games) and physical collections of gestures in which “the productivity of recognition as well as the opacity of things are questioned, confused and challenged”. In that performance, dance is considered an occupation of space in which everyone has to find his own place, not in an individualistic posture but in reworking the “4 as a multiple space which layers ways of doing things with dance, after a long practice of interpreting, altering and adapting each other’s movements”. Starting from these reflections, other questions have been raised. What does it mean to work together and build a common living space? Opening to the failure of the Other? How is it possible to share that kind of space? I have recorded few Sara’s answers…

“Right to the house”. I’ve borrowed this concept from Henri Lefebvre, thinking over works (and attachments) by Riccardo Benassi.
Starting from the analysis of infrastructures and objects as material supports of our daily life, does he create a sound-visual universe which tries to resist the urban manifestation of economies of scale and the technological changes influenced by the potential market of globalization?
During the LAW, each nightly projections by him seem to deprave the spatial infrastructures which surround our lives by mapping a new sentimental landscape through the relationship between the image and a strange contemplative – and theoretical at the same time – flow of words.

°°°° Defusing and making flexible MAMbo’s monolithic structure and its totalitarian architecture °°°° Drawing the space °°°°  I met Canedicoda °°°° He is a tall and thin gay with big round glasses with a transparent frame °°°° He built some wooden wooden sculptural interventions, in the different spaces of MAMbo, in order to create a new environment, a new idea of occupation °°°°


Canedicoda told me: ”I use to start with the draw, using different materials: fabric, colors, cloths and wood. What I do is simply drawing the space. By changing and declining materials, the result varies. I appreciated MAMbo. Palazzo Re Enzo is for sure an amazing place, with its specific history and its peculiar pattern. But I found really interesting the choice to make MAMbo the center of this year’s Live Arts Week.
After all, the conception of the festival somehow changed, as well as the proposals, and therefore the target, if we want to call it that. People who come here are maybe more inclined to follow and listen. It is a great change to me…

I found the space sufficiently aseptic but, at the same time, flexible. It allows me to do more or less anything I want… Every night it changes according to performers and musicians’ needs. I decided to draw a kind of arch around the entrance, it is meant to be a gateway connecting the inside and the outside. These wooden dowels, apparently broken down and bound together, in different colours and shapes, to me are like kids’ blocks (“lego”). It is a primitive approach. From my point of view, the central issue is still drawing the space. Drawing”.

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cancer cancer cancer certain certain certain curtain curtain curtain tanker tanker tanker tank tank ten ten ten ten pen pen pencil pencil petit petit petit particular particular particular killer killer killer lurking lurking larghi larghi kill her kill her call her call her call her color cover color sculler sculler sailor skater skater skater scale scale skill skill skill skull skull skull scala scala scala scala scale callas callas callas callas callas alaska alaska alaska alaska alaska I ask her I ska her I ask her I ask you I ask you I ask you ice cube ice cube ice cube bicycle bicycle bicycle bicycle bicycle psychical psychical psychical psyche psyche spicy spicy spicy pais pais el pais el pais el pais help please help please help please help please please please police police police police police bliss bliss bliss bliss gloss blossom blossom blossom ensemble Istanbul Istanbul a scandal a scandal a sandal a symbol a symbol a symbol a symbol a slimoo I seem all slime slime slime slime sling sling sling sling  slang slang slang slam slam slam islam islam islam salami salami salami misled misled misled misled muscle muscle muscle muscle almost almost almost most most must must must master master master masturbate masturbate masturbate masturbate masquerade masquerade masquerade mesmerize mesmerize mesmerize memorize memorize memorize rice rice rice vice vice vice supervise supervise supervise survive survive this role this role surreal surreal surreal so real so real so weird wheel wheel wheel io io ear ear ear air air air error error error error error arrow arrow hallo rope rope war war gore gore gore groin groin groin boring boring boring boring rainbow rainbow rainbow boring boring born born born burn burn burn burn dirt dirt dirt turn tartan madam madam madam madam madam madam dam dam numb numb numb numb no number number number  member member member member membrane membrane membrane membrane my brain my brain migrate migrate migrate my greater  my greater my creature my trader my trader my trailer my tailor  tray tray trade trade trade tried try try tried again tried again tried again tried again tried again again
I saw two girls in the middle of the huge MAMbo space. They were presenting Dance#2. Eszter Salamon and Christine De Smedt. Dance#2 is a performance based on a dialogue between these two girls, generated by language games, assonances, vocalic sprains and word anagrams. Sometimes it comes in by contact (when the two performers utter words in unison), sometimes it is based on the production of gestures that refer to sentences or words. Linguists define it “Speech Act”.
Here, far from any formula, they are simply showing the mechanics of language construction and the ways in which it can involve and undermine the grammar and syntax systems. In addition, they are showing how the hand-to-hand linguistic expression is able to appear in other places other than in podiums, frontal approaches or academic speeches, which are disembodied, i.e. they lack in the body of the Other.
In Dance#2, the peculiarity of this linguistic device has to do with time. This specific quality of “timing” is developed in a process that takes place around the audience. The timing of the dialogue (which is held by the two performers) is based on the timing of the audience, who dictates it with the outbreak of a surprise, with the gesture of tracking the production of the following phrasing and waiting for it, with the burst of a laughter or an exclamation of astonishment (even internal and not shown). And therefore, the timing rules of this dialogue are established by the audience. If the language is not the current one, if the chosen language (English) isn’t comprehensible by everyone, it might not be understood which is the most important nucleus of the event, this is to say the playful and idiotic element. But the game, by its nature, transcends languages and rules. And what if we try to get in touch with this glossed English rather than inferring information or knowledge? What if the neo-language produced by these two artists is considered the exposure of an apprenticeship? Or rather a process of verification and renegotiation of production forms?

After Junko’s performance. I wondered why the public didn’t started to scream, until the very end. Or why we didn’t leap up. Cause that thin and almost invisible figure, immersed in obscurity, intensely and insistently screaming, seemed to require a much more physical, bodily and strong reaction.
You usually would reply to violence with violence. This is what usually happens at concerts when a brutal energy is transmitted from the singer to the listeners. You would feel the need to release that energy with your body. You would sing. You would scream. You would start moshing. I enjoy it.
Were we bounded by our own constructed behavior conventions? By the fact that the space was arranged with pillows where we could sit? Or, instead, were we paralyzed?
Probably the most estranging thing, the one that paralyzed me, was the paradoxical relationship between what I could hear and what I could see.
She colonized my ears with her voice for 55 minutes (someone said).
Unamplified. Natural. Pure voice. Extreme voice. Overwhelming. Obstinate. Relentless.

But her body and her movements were calm, controlled, quiet, gentle, delicate.
As if that voice didn’t come from her body.
She looked like a innocent child humming sweetly and rotating on herself, playing alone Ring Around the Rosie. She was in fact screaming obsessively.
And also, she was a woman…
Unlike other people, I wasn’t struck by her endurance, her virtuosity, her technique.
Nor by the fact that that voice was pure phonè, a vocal emission without any need to articulate meaning, the triumph of sound over signification, or a perceivable vibration going through the air and inundating me.
I was struck by this paradox of an extreme and radical vocality that does not have any bodily counterpart.
A body that doesn’t speak, but that appears to be spoken.
A violent vocal flux reaching the point of a warm and bright sweetness.
I couldn’t (re)act. That voice asked me ecstatic, astonished, petrified contemplation.

I feel the scream. I feel it, not only hear it. The scream doesn’t penetrate my mind, but my body, it goes deep into my body. My mind elaborates thoughts on the anthropology of screaming, on the fact that a Japanese shout is completely different from an Italian one. Maybe from a Chinese one, too. I’ve never heard this kind of shout before. It’s thin, it’s structured in little phonemes, it’s made not only of vocals but also of consonants. Maybe inside the shout there are true words, not only sounds. Maybe.
The shout is continuous, constant on the same key. It doesn’t increase, develop or expand. It could be eternal.
Is there desperation inside the shout? My mind doesn’t understand. It’s so different from all the already known shouts. It’s the original and eternal shout. It’s the Urschrei.

My body, instead, discovers that it could get used to everything.
My mind thinks that a continuous and absolute woman’s shout couldn’t be tolerated. However, we can tolerate it.
My body gradually sinks to sleep. Maybe it’s horrible.
But I can’t stop my feeling. And I can’t stop her screaming.

“Tout ce qui j’entend est le cri… je ne sais pas comme vous faites à negocier avec le cri”, Claude Ridder said.
But it’s only an ethical hope. The body can, now I know it. And the mind could follow it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Ochu9Q_csg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Ochu9Q_csg

Fifty-one on the Infinite Plain by Tony Conrad. When the space opened before the performance, I didn’t find the large number of chairs I was expected to see there. In the big ground floor of the MAMbo there were several Arabic carpets lying on the floor. I lay down and while I was listening to those strings (amplified violins, bass, viola, cello) – which seemed wind instruments of archaic rituals – I felt that there was something very meditational and terrific at the same time…

Someone told me that it originally premiered at the Kitchen in 1972. The first title was Ten Years Alive on the Infinite Plain. It is composed of a live string performance and features multiple film projections.

“I’m old, I like long durations!”

The first thing that I asked Tony Conrad is “What is the significance of re-proposing Ten Years Alive on the Infinite Plain (1972) today, after so many years?”.
I wondered what his urgency was. He said that the first risk was nostalgia. The fact that all this may result in a backward movement. This is not what he wants, he doesn’t take care about that.
He is rather interested in working in the present moment. From today. Placing himself and acting here-now. For this reason – he revealed – I revised the score/non-score of the performance by introducing several innovations: sounds and noises that were not there in the original version and two projectors more.
Nowadays, to re-enact, re-present, re-visit are activities that I have constantly to face. Perhaps, more simply, they are irretrievably part of our time. There are artists who have developed a whole theory or pseudo-theory about that. Marina Abramovic, for example, has developed a real methodological apparatus, almost a sort of a series of best practices, dealing with the re-performance of her historical works. Her model is aimed at the re-presentation, investigation and conservation of the performances in the museum context. The only way to propose, communicate and preserve today time-based events of the past – Abramovic  says – is to re-enact them.
The re-presentation of the Ten Years Alive FIFTY-ONE on the Infinite Plain’s at the MAMbo would seem to indicate its subtraction to the present time in order to place it in a universalizing space-time neutrality, almost like in the Abramovic’s re-performance. Actually, it is exactly the opposite. In Tony Conrad, there does not seem to be any philological, historicist or self-archival instance. Or maybe it is a different way of thinking over history and art work. History is not a line and art work is not a point, but rather a journey, a path, a movement. It re-relates every time to the present time. It has its value now. Not as a document, a shadow or a surrogate. It is not a residual trace.

In the Live Arts Week’s program there is written that one of the reasons which led Conrad to return to Ten Years Alive on the Infinite Plain is the fact that its imagery so closely linked to the ‘60s and ‘70s – to the minimalism, the structural film and the abstraction – has now become a reservoir of incentives for younger artists. But another reason is the awareness that these kinds of works “can trigger different plans related to the real and therefore can represent a political critique of the materialistic society”.
In his On Duration (re-published in the dense catalogue of the LAW) we can find elements of reflection on the subversive potential of the present re-proposal of an event which was conceived in the early ‘70s. This short text begins with a brief cultural history of time and duration, of their progressive regimentation within the chronometer temporality of clocks as instruments of discipline, regulation and social control linked to the capitalist labor market.
Given this framework, the adoption of extended durations – so characteristic of a range of research in art and music in the ‘60s – is interpreted by Tony Conrad as a direct attack against rationalism and chronometer temporality, as “demonstration of the non-linearity of experienced duration” and as a paradoxical reversal of the function reserved to cinema and music in the bourgeois society: a device to escape and a distraction in the context of a more general sublimation of free time. According to Conrad, those durations made immediately evident the premises and the promises on which the show was held, by overturning them. They “implemented a sense of duration that was even longer than ‘long’. Duration, that is, was exposed as non-linear, as paradoxical, as capable of overturning the psychic state of bourgeois expectation”.
Perhaps, this is (still) right the challenge that the re-performance of an event as Ten Years Alive on the Infinite Plain offers us today. Cutting a space-time which is absolutely another one. And if we ask ourselves whether this kind of space-time is still able to take action today on our refined and a bit snob expectations, well, I can speak for myself but I’m Gianny Päng. Maybe it is not a simple coincidence that most of the hallway conversations that I came across at the end of Fifty-one Years on the Infinite Plain, 41 years later, focused right on its duration.

The dates are three. 1972, 2013 and 2023.
>>>Since I am a post-annalist historian, I have some difficulties<<<
The first [1972] is the date of the event. The second one is the date of its reconstruction (maybe archaeological?). And what about the last one? Historiography does not contemplate any deferral and neither builds [writing] in the horizon of expectation. Fifty-one on the Infinite Plain takes by surprise the archivist (because) it puts up again after 41 years [2013] a debut. In 1972, this debut gave rise to a substantial change and made it possible its development.
My problem is its date. I am obsessed with the number 51. Which is the hidden story in those ten years post quam-post quam? Why is it 51 [Fifty-one…] instead of 41?
I know that there was placed a fake date, but by now it is inscribed/written. The answer is not in the call for the rigour of an archaeological gesture and neither for the protocol of names and places of a presumed history. My place, my story lives in these ten years. I became aware of it during the public exhibition of the recovered object, brought again to light. I recover/reconstruct the “series” but I will not close it. An event like this has an actual effect, which will last in a latency state, opened to a new inauguration. It maintains this state, which can be arbitrarily post-dated. History never gets into this poetic deceit and mystery of time. Seminal, as a concept, is used in order to protocol.
Institutions use it to write books and build time. Seminal refers to “the seed”. Here the gaze sows, re-sows, is sown and in-sown. There will be a new post-dating. The appointment will be in ten years. The infinite gesture.

The Pincio’s Garage. It houses the anthropologic and somnambulistic journey We, the frozen storm by Marcel Türkowsky and Elise Florenty. I’ve never been inside the bowels of this little hill in my town. It’s a rubble hill. A Trümmerberg in front of the railway station. It’s a no-man’s land, for five centuries, since the people of Bologna destroyed four times a symbol of the power: here are compressed the rubbles of the Rocca of Galliera, a castle of papal power. Now, not many people remember the story of this place.
It’s a hidden place inside the town. An interstitial place, an unseen place, where it’s possible to protect and develop ourselves, our objects and our ideas. During the war, people came here to protect themselves from the bombings. Here, now, an immigrant association has created its storehouse. I know the old story of this place, but I have no idea about its recent one.
Passing through the tunnel, my senses take completely my attention. I perceive the rain. The water under my feet. I feel the humidity on the walls, I smell the humidity on the walls. I have the deep sensation to realize how people could sleep inside this place during the war. I hear a voice, the black voice of a slave. He’s a king. I hear about slavery. It’s the story about an ancient kingdom and an ancient power that tames wild horses. This voice reminds me that of Samuel L. Jackson from the recent movie Django Unchained. The laughter is the same, too. A powerful voice, a resolute tone. A sarcastic voice from an obscure cavity of the mind.

When a bird sings, it is telling you what it is and where it is.
It is true, isn’t it?

Uit  Uit Uit Uit Uit Uit Uit Uit
miaow-raow miaow-raow
pk-pk-pk-pk-pk- pk-pk
crr crrr crr crrr
Uit  Uit Uit Uit Uit Uit Uit Uit
ciok, ciok, ciok – pin pin pin
tourtiu, tourtiu, tourtiu

I’m sure about it. UIT by Daniela Cattivelli deals with the ability to investigate the materiality of the voice. The human voice is closely linked to the point of articulation of sounds, therefore to the body of the speaker. It is the art of guiding the body, isn’t it? I have read a book in which one character, who explores the practice of making one’s voice appear to proceed from elsewhere (ventriloquism), starts his analysis considering the body as an instrument of the voice. On second thought, the sonorous emissions from the nasal-oral cavity are produced by the vibrations of the vocal chords, as a result of a rhythmic-nervous excitement, in a close relationship with the whole corporeality, so that every gesture, including the vocal gesture, is supported by the posture, which is a muscular visceral state connected to the bodily orifices, for example the mouth (which is the most important orifice). Hearing a voice is actually listening to a body in motion, with its cavities, its mucous membranes and cartilages, its intra-muscular plays and its empty and filled spaces in the passage between inside/outside (emission) and outside/inside (input). Voice/Sound implies hearing. We could say that it is hearing. I realize that this is a work on the inhaling/exhaling of breath. When you hear something, where do you pay attention to?

Birdwatching
Birding
Birdcalls

If I think about the unique feature of the human mouth, I should recognize its ability to serve as a mobile resonator which can change the emission forms to undergo timber morphing.

So what happens when the phonatory organs simulate the sounds produced by a syrinx or the air sac of the bird?

crocè, crocè, crocè
trouiciu, trouiciu, trouiciu
trutrutriu, trutrutriu, trutrutriu
triò, triò triò
troici, troici, troici
trii tru i, trii tru i, trii tru i

Daniela Cattivelli’s phonetic score borrows the imitation techniques of the bird sounds. The performance develops through breaths, aspirations, inspiration, whiffles and syllabic patterns that produce a precise rhythmic vocalization assisted by individually tuned bird calls, birchwood and metal instruments, which are able to make a variety of sounds similar to a lark, a blackbird, a thrush or a throstle. They give rise to a real voicescape, in the sense of an auditory landscape, where the evocation of a single event (a singing bird) is stratified into a complex acoustic framework by means of a live electronic manipulation of sound emissions.
This vocalic entity – expression of the materiality of the body that flows from the throat, where the phonic metal is forged – generates a rhythmic-phonic-sonorous score modeled through different devices to identify birds who are hidden by dense foliage, faraway birds, birds at night and birds that look identical to each other… Daniela Cattivelli and the two skilled imitators becomes vectors or carriers of this virtuosic grain of fake bird sounds into a new language to rediscover their physical and instinctual values (excluding the functionality of the voice in its role as carrier of language): controlling the pitch, changing the tension, controlling the volumes, changing the force of the inhaling of breath and changing lip vibration.

UIT has to do with the notion of imitation (mimesis, mimicry, simulation), recognition, sound localization and spatialization, nature watching and reproduction, listening and recognition, hiding and exposure, punctuation of the bodily presence and animal becoming of the human voice. They are survival techniques (protection against enemies) and strategies of seduction, control of the experience and of cultural information. They are camouflage tactics.


Does imitation mean mockery?
I don’t think so. I would rather talk about a game >>>to get a spell<<<.
I’m thinking about Roger Caillois (animal mimicry and play/game), about the ornithologist Paul Slud or about a village fair. Someone may think that this performance is a trap, a scam or a sham. Or maybe other people could suppose that it is a way to distort the signal. It is not a simple interference, an unintentional form of disruption! It is an action of >>>Jamming<<<, i.e. a deliberate use of sound waves or signals in order to disrupt communications. It is a misdirection technique.

The bird sounds spread through the air and penetrate my ear. As the surveillance centre that channels the degrees of distance and the rhythm of the sonorous vibrations, I felt forced to negotiate the reliability of my own perception. If the auditory function (according to Alfred Tomatis) is not simply the passive ability to perceive, but also the active desire to listen, this bird score – that is the event and the exposition of the same event – moves towards the rediscovery and exhibits the relational singularity of existing in the field of the audible.

Goodiepal (alternately spelled Gaeoudjiparl or Gaodjiperl) DIDN’T come by bicycle
It was supposed to come here by his custom-made bicycle from the Faroe Islands. I’m thinking. What does it mean that the composer/performer Goodiepal – wanted by the Danish police authorities for an unsolved theft from Royal Academy of Music in Aarhus – couldn’t come with his white and green vehicle?
For now I want to focus on his configuration of objects (nuts, tea bags, umbrella, screws, recording tapes, pens, notebooks…): relics, rests, leftovers of his chaotic mental and factual itinerancy able to maintain several centers of gravity…

The CD box set Destroy all Monsters 1974-1976 includes the text “Destroy all Monsters interviews itself”. What does it mean to interview oneself? To look at oneself? As a plural identity? As a simultaneous and heterogeneous entity?

Well, they probably don’t answer these questions. But nevertheless they give to each other interesting replies. When Mike Kelley asks “Does your music stem from any kind of ideological sources?”, Jim Shaw replies: “I basically don’t believe in anything”. When he asks “How do you think that all these different ideas that everyone in the band has work together?”, Cary Loren simply states: “It doesn’t work together”.
Gianny Päng’s cross-eyed, incoherent and “polysingular” gaze is perhaps an exploration of how these different identities might signify. An exploration of the possibility that it “could” work together. In some way.
Will Gianny Päng interview itself?

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I’m Gianny Päng. A book. Maybe someone will call me a catalogue. I’m your desperate but necessary attempt to give a possible order to the complexity of happening, to draw a map of the multitude. I’m the expression of my polysingular nature in the bastard folds of the writing as memory trace of what happened. Like every map, I’m a simplification and maybe a deception. Even if you’re aware of the deception and you put it always in question, you are forced to believe/trust me to continue to survive…

[...] †
I act in the field of the Letter. It’s my cup of tea.
It is a precise program of tactics and practices that perform in writings.
The procedure has to undermine the Author (the Authority) and give the impression of being in the places of the production, but actually it stands on the verge of his weaknesses.
The story of the abjection of the “I” began in 1920 with the release of The Decline of the West. Oswald Spengler was my first name. Then history continues (and has continued) with textual and extra-textual aspects of different nature: from the commentary to the gloss, from the footnote to the in-calce, from the “paraphrasing” to the reprint, up to the photocopy, the facsimile and the plagiarism.
*** The distracted West does not read the first work of its author *** (to be developed)
And Gianny Päng, me, could act and publish undisturbed.
I wrote the Postille to Friedrich Nietzsche’s The Birth of Tragedy (by Rilke).
I edited – in a philologically unexceptionable way – the manuscripts by Walter Benjamin that I found in the BnF in Paris.
I translated the Esthetique de l’Immonde.
I copied some passages of The Principle of Hope and I made it flow, diluting it in the stream of my writing.
I can do what I want in the name of a recognized identity (but unknowable). I work at the sides of a shortfall. It does not mean to look over your shoulder. Under the guarantee of the supreme law of the quotable gesture. I move – effectively – in the surplus. It is the surplus that neither the economic or the bureaucracies apparatus (of the research) consider a value, but that they archive under the nomenclature of deficit.
My presence/action here, now, attached to the bleed of time in the field of the Other, to the logic of a bastard meeting, gains a new “figure” and “quality of being”. That of the enjoyment (jouissance) and the game.

I bite my lips and look forward to get news from you about the possibility of preparing – or stopping, it is the same thing – the night of the West, if this could still for a while string along the a(A)uthors

Yours sincerely,
Gianny Päng

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BLENDED GAZE. GIANNY PÄNG by GIANNY PÄNG is an independent project around Live Arts Week II, curated by Piersandra Di Matteo and supported by NERO.

GIANNY PÄNG is the name that goes with the Live Arts Week, festival dedicated to live arts that hosts productions which revolve around the presence, performance and perceptual experience of sounds and visions, in Bologna, Italy.

Close to an abstract concept, GIANNY PÄNG is the figure of a graft-between-worlds and cultures. Not a subject of identity, rather a phenomenon. Maybe an opening to the becoming of the subjectifications. It embodies a multi-belonging. Any Chinese, any Italian. These references neutralize, in their proximity and combination, any idea of belonging. He/she/it is not a fact but a factoid.

Gianny Päng, in an ingoing-outgoing dynamic within the Live Arts Week II – Bologna 16 > 21 April, 2013 – enacts its bastard gaze, expanding the notion of poly-singularity (keyword of the festival) and analyzing the capture of speech connected to “I’m saying”. BLENDED GAZE collates texts (notes, reprints, interviews, photographs, drawings, recordings…) produced by different figures melting into the “person” of Gianny Päng. They creep into the live processuality of the works presented at the festival, within their interstices, in order to negotiate a position in relation to what is happening.
Diaristic traces derail toward something theoretical, impressionistic and abstract, using different linguistic registers. Through epileptic reversals of the eyes, revealing a black out of thoughts and memories, without being interested in the possibility to tell what happened, these materials detect the disturbances, the strabismus, the irreconcilable inversion, the autonomization of the gaze. And its nature, sprinkled with the Real.

GIANNY PÄNG is Irena Radmanovic, Elena Biserna, Luca Mattei, Michelangelo Setola, Piersandra Di Matteo, Giacomo Covacich, Lucia Amara, Elena Pirazzoli & Guests