6P
6P stands for Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Poor Performance.
I came upon the sentence in the book I was reading on my trip to Brazil: "In Afrika" (sic!) of Adriaan van Dis. It was the perfect line for the abominable setting where the "festival" was taking place: a dusty gallery space of the university of Vitoria, no announcements, no publicity, no care for the artists and endless delay.
I started running around and drumming with two sticks on whatever came in front of me: windows, floor, a lamp. I even shout sung some words I think. When my first aggression was over I broke the sticks and taped them to the wall.
I wrote 6P big on the floor, first walking then running around the number and letter repeating the sentence loud and clear over and over again, going on till I was tired enough to sit down at a table to concentrate on taping my right hand and fingers with the sticking side outwards. Then I invited, no, ordered Marcus, the so-called curator of the event, to sit opposite of me and copy me.
Here we were sitting opposite of each other with a hand full of sticky tape, spreading our fingers as not to get stuck in our own fingers.
I offered him my hand. Peace man. He took the bait and after a moment of friendly handshaking the fight for freedom started. We went on till the end. The end was that the tape slipped from my hand (or was it slipping from his hand?), he lost his balance and fell down.
Performed February 2011 in Vitoria, Brazil
I came upon the sentence in the book I was reading on my trip to Brazil: "In Afrika" (sic!) of Adriaan van Dis. It was the perfect line for the abominable setting where the "festival" was taking place: a dusty gallery space of the university of Vitoria, no announcements, no publicity, no care for the artists and endless delay.
I started running around and drumming with two sticks on whatever came in front of me: windows, floor, a lamp. I even shout sung some words I think. When my first aggression was over I broke the sticks and taped them to the wall.
I wrote 6P big on the floor, first walking then running around the number and letter repeating the sentence loud and clear over and over again, going on till I was tired enough to sit down at a table to concentrate on taping my right hand and fingers with the sticking side outwards. Then I invited, no, ordered Marcus, the so-called curator of the event, to sit opposite of me and copy me.
Here we were sitting opposite of each other with a hand full of sticky tape, spreading our fingers as not to get stuck in our own fingers.
I offered him my hand. Peace man. He took the bait and after a moment of friendly handshaking the fight for freedom started. We went on till the end. The end was that the tape slipped from my hand (or was it slipping from his hand?), he lost his balance and fell down.
Performed February 2011 in Vitoria, Brazil
screenshot of video by fernando ribeiro
