"Что Значит: Я здесь" (What does "I am Here" mean?)

I was obsessed with idea of place for a long time, but now i've lost my thoughts a little bit, but that's better, because i am far away from the concept and more close to "thing".
I have one idea, will think about it. I had funny experience last week. I had to move to another flat. I gather ALL the stuff i had in my previous room (furniture, clothes, dishes, everything). I put everything that surrounds me in front of me. and that was so striking! The trailer was late and i had to seat with this mountain if stuff for 2 hours in the hall of my house building. It was very strange experince like i had transformed the place (my living space) into the object. like i collapsed the interior (i was the part of it) into heap of objects, separating myself from my own place... i don't know i have to think more about explaination of my experience.
This is the first idea i had in my mind thinking about your topic.

any thoughts from others?

- Yana Klichuk

response to Yana:
I think that you've pointed at an interesting issue here. The way i read your experience suggests that your perception of space shifted to the perception of things the space is filled up with. As if the identity of space is thoroughly determined by the object occupying it. This led me to consider one common example. When, you know, one have a need to bring something familiar in the impersonal space, let's say office, in order to feel more comfortable there. I always thought why people have all those photos of their families, small toys, or cactuses at their working places. Is it a way of constructing a connection with the unfamiliar space? Or is it a way of declaring your personal identity out loud, so that strangers would know you better without actually knowing you at all? Or maybe these two points are inseparable and construction of one's identity always goes along with the different methods of attaching to the space one finds him/herself in? If the last thing is true, space appears to be something like a constant reference point in the identity building process. And objects are some kind of mediators on that way. For example, I don't constitute myself by possessing a cup with a funny face on it (oh god, maybe i do?!!), by i sort of do, when i bring this cup in the public space. From now on this space "considers" me as a girl with a funny cup.
However, the cup is not the only thing i possess, i also "possess" race, gender, age, etc and the space is not always public...

xoxo,
alina

sorry Megan!

Алина, ты правильно это обозначила. Самое странное для меня явилось то, что мое пространство есть ни что иное как вещи. Что между ними ничего нет. Сейчас я переехала, расставила их везде и вот! теперь я снова дома.

Интересно про идентичность. По сути квартира есть публичное место приписанное ее хозяину. Не хочется говорить о себе, но мне снова вспоминается моя предыдущая комната. Я жила с подругой, у нас была огромная 35 метровая комната. Но какая бы большая она не была она была одна. У нас были просто космические войны, когда мы покупали мебель, вешали что-нибудь на стену или каким-либо образом через предметы пытались "обозначить свою идентичность", потому как помещенные в нашу комнату предметы навязывали мою идентичность моей подруге (звучит по-идиотски, но так примерно и есть). Тут же я вспоминаю студенческое общежитие (я там не жила, поэтому всегда это замечала), где постеры над кроватями говорили, кто на них спит. Более того, иногда можно было наблюдать обширный диалог между постерами, их вешали друг другу на зло, иногда своим постером комментируя постеры своих соседей.

response to Yana:
I think that you've pointed at an interesting issue here. The way i read your experience suggests that your perception of space shifted to the perception of things the space is filled up with. As if the identity of space is thoroughly determined by the object occupying it. This led me to consider one common example. When, you know, one have a need to bring something familiar in the impersonal space, let's say office, in order to feel more comfortable there. I always thought why people have all those photos of their families, small toys, or cactuses at their working places. Is it a way of constructing a connection with the unfamiliar space? Or is it a way of declaring your personal identity out loud, so that strangers would know you better without actually knowing you at all? Or maybe these two points are inseparable and construction of one's identity always goes along with the different methods of attaching to the space one finds him/herself in? If the last thing is true, space appears to be something like a constant reference point in the identity building process. And objects are some kind of mediators on that way. For example, I don't constitute myself by possessing a cup with a funny face on it (oh god, maybe i do?!!), by i sort of do, when i bring this cup in the public space. From now on this space "considers" me as a girl with a funny cup.
However, the cup is not the only thing i possess, i also "possess" race, gender, age, etc and the space is not always public...

xoxo,
alina

response to Yana-

I wanted to respond to the sensation of collapsing a space:
first of all, did you feel that you could construct the collapsed space again? That it was like a tent that would snap back into shape when organized properly no matter the location? Was it a sensation that you had removed a layer of space, or in this case the layer of "place" (ie. because you had removed your things from the room it was no longer YOUR room. It no longer was partially defined as YOUR room.), when you collected all of your belongings in one spot?
I'm also curious about space existing between objects. For me I understand a space as its own entity, not necessarily relying on things to define it, but at the same time we cannot understand a space without boarders, without limitations and points of reference. Because of this I consider these limits to be part of the space itself.

Thank you for questions!
About collapse - now i live in new flat and i put everything around and again it was my home. I think carrying all my stuff i can feel home everywhere.
I realized that there is no secret space between objects - my space is unity of my stuff. like puzzle which i can carry in a box and spread it anywhere and it always be the same picture.

Strangely enough it is exactly this question that has kept me from answering earlier. It's a strange moment in time, I know that I will leave Helsinki soon, I am constantly aware of it. But in stead of being already there (Brussels) I am more here than ever, and it's hard to focus on anything else. But I am not sure if I am more here than ever or more in the image of being here...Sometimes my enthousiasm doesn't seem to fit the reality of november, december in Helsinki. I'm living in a total idealisation. (At least of the place, love for example is an entirely different story.) This 'I am here' is shifting at the moment and I don't know if I am able to think about this question while it is shifting so much, but I want to try, with all of you.
For now I wanted to share a small fragment of a text by Roni Horn..will search the exact version and the rest soon, couldn't find it now.
'I don't want to read, I don't want to write, I don't want to do anything but be here. Doing something will take me
away from being here. I want to make being here enough. Maybe it's already enough. I won't have to invent enough. I'll be here and I won't do anything and this place will be here, but I won't do anything to it. I'll just let it be here. And maybe because I'm here and because the me in what's here makes what's here different, maybe that
will be enough, maybe that will be what I'm after.'
all the best and a kiss, Sarah

That text encompasses so much of what I am considering. I can't quite bring myself to say that I don't want to do anything other than 'be' in a place and have that be enough or have a stagnant relationship with place and be satisfied with it. My understanding of "being" somewhere includes engaging with the place, being active in it...however, Horn writes that "and maybe because I'm here and because the me in what's here makes what's here different...", so she is also interested in the evolution of a space in relation to her existence in it, but she also writes "Doing something will take me away from being here." Is it possible to "do" something in a place while still being aware of "being" there? This reminds me of what we talked about during FORUMAK Leto: that the avant-gardists wanted to make people aware of the fact that they were looking at a painting, sculpture, etc. while they experienced it; being aware of the process of what you are doing while doing it, being objective during a subjective experience.
Also how can one "make being here enough"? Enough for what? It requires a deep exploration of presence and fascination with intricacies, a realization that, no matter what we are doing, we are some where, we are "being," living, existing. It is a constant. I think being more aware of your own act of being could eliminate the distance one feels between your "self" and your actions, opinions, thoughts and any external form your thoughts take.

- megan

response to Sarah and Megan:
i feel so much related to the text you (Sarah) have shared and somehow it's difficult to respond in an articulate way, so i'd like to propose some of my thoughts, questions and associations that i believe are strongly connected to Horn's text and the whole issue of "being here".
maybe later i'll pick up one of the following and expand it, maybe not, maybe we could do that together...

- "I am here" is always shifting. Because apart from "here", there is always "there", apart from "now" there is always "then". Identity cannot be fixed. Here and there, now and then are always simultaneous. There is a constant buzz of being on the background.

- I remember experiencing one dream-like state constantly when i was a child. It's hard to explain, but i felt as if something was growing inside me, evolving, gradually becoming bigger than my actual physical limits. That inner "thing" was everywhere: in my legs and arms, in a stomach, but most of all in my chest and my throat. Making me almost unable to breath but at the same time provoking me to feel each single part of my body. That could be compared to the experience caused by smoking pot or something like that.
I think most probably it was a repeated dream, but once i do remember experiencing that in a reality. I was in a yard playing with my friends and then this thing started and i was so excited to have witnesses around, someone to prove that it was real. but obviously no one noticed anything. I recall sitting on a porch trying to concentrate on the experience, I was afraid and enjoying the feeling at the same time. And i wanted everything around me to disappear so that i won't be distracted from just being there, from feeling myself there.

- I am bound by the limitations of my perception and i''ll never know what's beneath it. Thus the question "what's the cause of the feeling" - is essentially unsolvable one. Anything could be the reason but there is no way for me to find that out. There is no a single prove of the existence of the world beneath me.

- What does it mean to be here in this particular place and time? From physics we know that sun rays reach the Earth in 8 min. Thus the Sun we see is always 8 min old. The more something is distanced from us, the more it it is in the past. Literally.

xoxo,
alina

Response to Alina:

- I've been thinking about inverses since our program this summer (especially after seeing John Stezaker's work). Is the complete inverse of a thing possible? If we cannot ever "fully" understand a thing, in that it is impossible for us to be conscious of every context in which it exists and thus the millions of layers of its existence, can we ever see the complete opposite? Does the inverse of a thing hold as much of that thing itself as the original form? For example, can we understand a concept or a thing by what it is not or by its opposite as well as we can understand the thing in the positive form? I believe that what a thing is not, that is the "there" side of "here", is as much a part of that thing as the thing itself. "There" defines "Here" as much as "Here" defines "Here." I think one of the reasons why it is so difficult to understand "being" is that there is no immediately recognizable opposite.

- This feeling you describe, Alina, is incredible. I had a somewhat similar feeling when I was in Peters, especially when I was standing on Troytskiy Most. I felt a swell in my throat and a lifting in my chest and a great sort of expansion. It was not an out-of-body experience. I did not mentally or spiritually exit my body, but I could feel myself existing where I physically stood and out in every part of the city. I could envision a presence in other countries as well, with people I knew and didn't know. It almost felt like a breeze or a volume that my consciousness filled.

- What is physically between us and a place? What is in that time that Alina mentioned?

xo
Megan

Hi friends!
sorry for my english, i know it's terrible
but i have so much to say, and so curious with your thoughts about it

- about being here in a place and a stuff - it is interesting for me – how your relation with a space, and all belongings changes in time. First time – you notice a lot of things – all things says something, watching you – sometimes, when I’m found in unfamiliar place – I fill like in museum - starting to examine all surfaces. But in course of time, when space become familiar, you stop notice everything around, things become invisible – how does it happen? We just settle down to place? Or we transform it?

- about being here in a space – it is always appear a question for me - how our behavior ( physical emplacement ) depends of a certain place. I mean – how do we choose location for our body in a space? Especially if it is big and empty - as a big hall, or field, or square, or park? How it depends of other people’s situation? How will I cross a field ? How should I move in the church (or in museum – according Yana’s “church and museum” project)? Which branch, or table will I choose? Is this choice only in my head, or determine by surroundings, or it just happened by itself.

- But for me – “I’m here” means - being here mentally at first. I’ll try to explain it with my experience of prayer. When I’m concentrating on short simple phrase, thought, and continue doing this during some period of time, I notice, that all my thought always flying somewhere else. It emerged that, there no more hardest thing for me, than just concentrate all my attention in one place, in one thing. It seems to me, that when I’m reading, or writing, or doing something, that I’m really interested by – all my attention, all me is in this thing, but now I can understand – no, it isn’t. When I’m reading – I’m I the book, writing – the same thing, even when I’m thinking about me sitting here write now – it is not - “I’m here”, because in this moment I’m watching me sitting and thinking, from other’s point of view. For me – being here is something like concentration on the one point – without any distance, any analyzing, just being like intention. Kind of volition. Wow it sound’s like opposite thing for critical art.. isn’t it? What do you think?

love,
olya

Olya - I'm so glad you mentioned distance. I feel strongly that the distance, be it physical or mental, that is between you and a place is a vital part of our question. Obviously if there is a great physical distance between you and a place it is hard to argue that you are "there." For example, I cannot claim without explanation that "I am in St Petersburg" when I sit in New York. But it is possible that with concentration I can mentally be there, or be in a past experience in that place, or feel that I am in an idea or perception of that place. I also want to consider the distance between you and a place in the form of videos; trying to capture that space in between, and see what is there. Is the ultimate goal of being present in a space to eliminate that (mental) distance? Can that involve becoming entirely familiar with a place, feeling that the place is actually an extension of self? Or that your self extends and permeates all aspects of the place? Can this occur without you being conscious of it?

It is funny to hear about how you enter a new space, how all things are new and curious and you examine the surfaces and details. I find that I do not do this. Yes, when I enter a new place I try to take in as much as I can, but my immediate instinct is not to grab the details, but to absorb much of the larger, grander, elements of the place. Only when I spend time in it, only when I become familiar with it and then am caused to see the familiar space in a new way (avant-garde goal!) do I become acutely aware of my relationship with small details of the space. Maybe then I get closer to presence in a place. But, now that I think about this seriously, I think that I may be more sensitive to my own existence in a place when it is completely new and unfamiliar. I am still learning about my own movement in and relationship to the place. I honestly don't know which scenario achieves a greater sense of presence.

Does this greater sense of presence require hyper consciousness of self? Must you be actively thinking about the various aspects of your self + their relationship to a place in order to "be" there? As I stated before, I do not think "being" is a passive state.

As some of you may know I recently moved to New York and have been swarmed with obligations (mostly of my own making). My life has become a list of tasks. Rarely do I feel mentally present or give myself space to concentrate on existing, on understanding + articulating what I am doing. Like Yana, I too moved to a new apartment, but I had a different experience. Rather than seeing all of my belongings that made up a space in one pile I have seen bits of places, things that have made various places (from my father's house, my mother's house, school, my grandparent's house, etc. all over the country), come together for the first time. It feels like an incredible relief: that life and my living space is finally starting to make sense and is coming together in a nice way. I have been in so many places, with my father living in Philadelphia, my mother in Seattle, other family in other states. My things have been scattered for most of my life and thus my mental relationship to those things has been this way as well. If we continue the conversation that Yana started about our relationship with things and space then I feel that my living space has been stretched over hundreds of miles and, by my choice to move here, I have been able to collect it together. I picture myself sitting in New York, pulling on threads that are tied to each item I own and connected with my body. These threads run from me to Seattle, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, and else where and I'm tugging on them, reeling the items in to me. It is very possible that once I surround myself with these things that have strong connections with other places and helped define spaces all over the country I can at the same time imagine myself in that other place and feel that a part of my self is more present where I physically am. We will see.

I had a few questions about format for the catalog:

Is it important to use the original text from our conversation in the original format (not edited)?
Shall we include images? Will these images act as illustrations of some of the ideas we have discussed? Shall we each create our own images or shall we illustrate each other's texts?

Please send thoughts on formatting!
love
Megan

(SEE PHOTOGRAPHS IN MEGAN SNOWE'S STUDIO TITLED 'PORTRAIT/PLACE 1 & 2')

A couple of months ago I was looking at photographs taken in the last 2 years and I noticed that there were multiple instances where I took a photograph of myself and then imediately turned the camera around to take a photograph of what I was looking at, or what was in front of me. This often ended up to be a very boring photo (of a parking lot, airport, roof of a house). I believe I took these shots when I was incredibly bored or wanted to document my existance there, but had no one with me to take my photograph. This unexpected series reminded me of Alina's photo journey when she took photographs every 15 mins of what was in front of her and what was behind her. I wrote a text (see below) about a similar idea/project relating to these photos: process of capturing a place and your existence (physical) in a place for a moment. I was considering making impossible/ideal postcards with my picture printed on one side, the view printed on the other, with the message "I am here" or "Wish you were here" or something tied into it. I think coupling the two photographs together (portrait and corresponding view) and making it clear that they are two sides of the same view the viewer could extend the two dimentional space of the mounted photograph by imagining the space between and, while viewing one photograph envisio the existence of the other behind them. To do this it may be necessary to mount the photographs directly opposite one another in a narrow hall way. The viewer would stand in the space of the camera, as the eye or object documenting the place and existence, possibly in between me and the place...possibly not.
 
Clearly not much is clear in these musings, but I did want to send something along for the project that was more than just text.

I wrote on this in my notebook relating to these photographs:
"'What is Between You Physically + the Space You are Physically In or Occupy?' This question came up when, looking back on photos from the past year + a half, I noticed a number of particular pairs of photographs taken without conscious reference to one another, without a plan: photographs, camera turned on myself, close up, coupled with rather drab photographs taken either immediately after or before the corresponding portrait, of my view at the time or what I saw from where I was situated in the portrait. There are at least 11 of these pairs from the last year and a half. I should emphasize that the photographs of my view, or rather of the 'place,' are not taken necessarily OF a particular thing, that is OF a monument, person etc. ...My immediate response to the initial question of What is Between Physical Self + the Place in Which You Physically Exist? was: one's perception. The arrangement of these shots are such that the camera acts as the vessel of this perception. If the viewer is placed in between the two photographs they now exist as or in (?) my perception of the place where I was.
Are we part of a place as well as separate? That is, we directly contribute to the atmosphere + makeup of a place, but because of our perception + consciousness we are also separate from a place? What keeps us separate from a place and how are we a part of it?"

Thinking about olya's thoughts I knew that the question of I am Here is actually this lovely concept of JUST BEING... not do anything but just BE.
(It was the main point of criticality form the very beginning. canvas is just canvas)
It's very tricky, i am thinking about this just being thing from time to time, and i am looking for a way of just being. It's funny, i am always training myslef in the train - i look out of the window trying not to think about anything but saying to myself "I am". It's like a trance and it is really funny because i am able to stop thinking for 10 sec and it's SO HARD, and after these 10 sec all my thought are rushing into my conciousness all over againg.

And it's interesting Megan what you say about subjects from different flats that you carry with you. Because for me all these things automaticaly become the belonging of this new place. And for me they even loose this connection to other space. Like i have kazan (couldron) from my mother and granny, very old one. And it looks like it's not mine, it's older than me. But now i know it's mine, today i can not find it in my mother's flat, it's not her object anymore, it's mine. The same with souvenirs. They remind me nothing except themselves - in my mind they have lost their magic power of being aboriginal when they become a part of my space.

Yana

Do you think we are interested in engaging with a place because we are all on the brink of leaving one or shifting from one? Or we are at points in our lives between places, or not yet settled in places? I spoke to a friend yesterday and she mentioned the experience of being in a place as knowing it intimately, being "plugged in," being inside it's spirit and contributing to its essence. This is so curious to me. I don't know this feeling very well. The last time I had a feeling like this was actually in Peters, before that at college, but I was in either place for such a short period of time that I doubt that I felt a truly deep connection. However I was in a the places for a short enough period of time for things to still be new and challenging. I yearn to settle in a place, but am put off by the idea of idle, stagnant familiarity. How can one maintain an alert curiosity with the intimately familiar? Why am I concerned with this? Is striving for this similar to the pursuit of some sort of nirvana? It is very possible that I've reached a point where I am pursuing the idea of this topic, of "being," rather than the actual state. Time to react in a different form.

I am here and am ready to create.

I'm afraid I forgot for a moment what that means, 'I am here'. As I said before, when I was there, I was so aware I would soon not be there, that I was more there than ever. But I was not sure if I was really more there than ever, or more in the image of being there. It was impossible to only be there, I was also already in how I would remember being there. It's funny that when I last wrote you, almost two months ago, I was working on a video, that visually already realised what I can name only now. There's a short fragment on my site; http://www.sarahgerats.be/sarah-gerats/staging-merihaka Sending some stills as well.
 I love the image of Megan sitting in the center of her world, pulling the strings of all her things, knotting together all the fragments.
 At the moment I can't even think about things, I have been with my backpack for a while again, everything is still waiting somewhere else, in different places, until this center will solidify. The only thing familiar are my blue clothes, and that might very well be a reason why they have been so blue for years now. When I moved to Iceland, I taped them all on the wall of my tiny room, appropriating the space.
 I didn't really arrive in Belgium yet. Have been sneezing since I'm back. A stubborn flu that keeps me at a distance from everything. It's about time it wil be over. I'm already in the stage of magic tricks; sleeping with garlic in your socks and that kinds of things. All suggestions are welcome...)
A hug and a warn kiss, Sarah

I often think that a change of place will automatically bring about a change of heart and spirit. Sometimes I rely too much on a place to define my mood and state of mind, disregarding any other factors, and often times I blame a place for a negative experience or mood. But that is not entirely fair, because I carry a mood with me as much as a stimulus may bring up a particular mood from within me. Nor is it fair to disregard the effect of a place on ones' psyche entirely. A place has a certain pace, a certain attitude, a certain movement.
I fled New York to breath a bit in suburban Philadelphia. Just a few days of eyes open elsewhere and, if past is prologue, I anticipate a matured, or at least evolved, view of New York once I return tomorrow.