Three days to go before landing in Edinburgh and the excitement is building. Am currently sat at a large banqueting table in the South of France where I've been celebrating an old friend's 40th birthday party for the last week. This friend first met me in Anne's squat fourteen years ago. I had a mullet at the time and he describes the twenty-four year old me as being a 'rancid little worm'. Much reminiscing has been going down during our stay here and the stories of the squatting years have resurfaced. We were talking about the time when some of us were living in Berlin and how all of the former east side of Berlin was squatted for the start of the millennium and that this time was the greatest sense of freedom we've ever known. Our accommodation and artist's studio spaces were all free. We had no financial worries and were able to create without worrying about the financial value of any end product. We could create just for the sake of creating. With no concerns for health and safety. What a privilege it was to have been part of that.
We then reflected on how there are no photos of that time. It was pre-Facebook. Like the mists of Avalon, memories from a time beyond the Facecrack seem now like a forgotten mythical dreamtime. It could all have even be lies. There's definitely some embroidery attached. Who lets the truth get in the way of a good story after all. But there's something special about these non-documented memories. Precious jewels set adrift in an over saturated sea. This holiday and birthday celebration has been over documented, mainly by myself. Years from now it will be hard to remember the gaps between the photos as there are so many of them. The bike ride was photo free. Some conversations. But these moments will grow into a fuzzy backdrop behind the vibrant monoliths of photos and videos capturing so many moment and freezing them in time.
As a horrendous Facecrack and photo taking junky I'm in no position to complain. And in this line of work it is a vital tool. It just secured the funds for our HIP crowd-funding campaign. It is currently promoting the show at Edinburgh and selling tickets. It allows for a dialogue between the performer and the audience. But beyond the shiny, publicity shot facade, there's a visceral, breathing, shitting, bleeding, living show that's desperate to be released. Can't wait to get to Edinburgh now.
Then yesterday, out of nowhere, an old friend uploaded these photos onto Facebook, taken from an analogue photo album, showing images from the squats in Berlin. Amongst them there's a photo of me taken from the time I was squatting Anne's flat. Red mullet and all. A proper blast from the past seeing these again. These synchronicities surround HIP.