I am writing from Geneva, Switzerland, I have French and Italian citizenship and I am based in London. I arrived here from Istanbul
and will be leaving for Stuttgart next week. This journey to Geneva is actually the first in a few months that was not for work. Going back in time and geographic locations, I was in Istanbul working on an exhibition for September next year at SALT (the future reincarnation of Platform Garanti), where I had travelled to from Cairo where I was attending the Speak, memory symposium organised by Laura Carderera at Townhouse. I presented my new project There is Nothing Left there, a lecture-performance rehearsed the previous week at the Serpentine Map Marathon. In between these two talks, I went to Paris to install a newly re-configured piece called Les Batailles du Centre (The Centre Wars) in the exhibition Fun Palace at the Pompidou Centre.
The week before the Marathon, I was in Murcia for the opening of Manifesta 8, in which I had been setting up the installation There is Nothing Left, part of a larger project I am developing next year at the Alexandria Contemporary Arts Forum, and starting point of the series of talks I mentioned above. I spent part of the summer working on this
piece in Berlin.
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There is nothing interesting about this list of times and places except the fragile strings all this moving around creates between projects and people, but also ideas and places, references and knowledge. This may be a very familiar story, with the names of places and events interchangeable, highlighting a general condition in the artworld – representative enough, I suspect, for this blog to exist and for me
to be asked to write in it – but it highlights in fact both the extraordinary mobility that is the privilege of some (freedom of movement was after all one of the main revindications of democracy), and the sheer weirdness of such a diary.