The residency Villekulla is meant to be in a process of constant transformation; editing, developing, focusing, re-elaborating and re-enacting.
Our main interest lays in one’s current state of thoughts, experiments and expression, rather than in what has been achieved in the past. Which traces are followed, what influences are taken into account?
Besides fertilising a space of focus on one’s own artistic activities, it is fundamental to us to as well constitute a basis for exchange and a nourishing ground for cultural discourse for and with the immediate environment of the residency. What components take part in and define the artistic processes? Does the village baker get invited for breakfast or included in the process of a work? Are the picked pears just put in the cellar or do you enjoy their juice?
«Abandoned old houses and streets
its people, hidden behind curtains only lured out of their houses by shy sunshine or a fresh baguette from the bakery
steep paths lead into the forest, overgrown with moss
ponds, appearing here and there hidden in between trees
hands covered with soil
surrounded by flowers
loosing myself in the garden
loosing myself in deep silence.»
«With that very feeling of remoteness that is accompanying me staying at Faucogney-et-la-Mer, I repeatedly experience times without too much fuss, that enable work as well as leisure time in an indeed raw and honest manner. Everything needed is to be found in and around the spaces of Villa Villekulla.»
«Waking up, fetching firewood, lighting a fire
in the studio, sanding wood, feeling the warmth
opening the gate, welcoming the sunlight, catching passers-by; «Vous êtrs sculpteur Monsieur?»
later in the day through the village and in the garden; «Bonjour, profiter du soleil!»
stoveside bench evenings.»
perception is shifting
time expands, time becomes viscous
time slows down
a fire flickers
in the stove, the smell of autumn
warmth deep down inside
mist the day after
rowing up by the street
«Propriété privée. I was sitting on this terrace with view on the school building, which every time anew sparks the impression of a rather unsuccessful homage to le Corbusier. I had lit a fire in front of me, the heat of the flames rising into the heat of the day. Well, I was neither cold nor was it dark, but I love the fire and its calming effect on my thoughts. A new arrival. I sat there, read texts I had written and then threw them into the flames. A simple action, though something I like to do again and again. Sometimes I find it extremely pathetic and romanticising to pursuit this sort of ritual. A‑rosé, ah a rose or just like somehow too many roses. Like our neighbour gardener, he must have a preference for roses, because his garden is overflowing. Now, however, a stranger has apparently dared to plant hemp in this overgrown garden. Well. Propiété privée only counts with lakes, here in this area. Suddenly there was a dog, and a man, with a slightly younger man, and about 20 seconds later a panting middle-aged woman (tendency towards later middle age) in my propriété privée Gärtli. Bünzli Gärtli Selina. After a language remix, long explanations about the fire ban not yet being lifted after all – the local warning by SMS still came in, two days ago – it turned out that the family cultivates the terrace garden directly below the one of Villekulla. Out of neighbourly love, the woman sent her son down there with Zack to fetch water to pour over the fire, in a somewhat encroaching manner however. Arroser, Arroser. Sun-bleached yellow watering can, forty litres of water and a spectacle of smoke in the sunshine, resistance was rather futile. After the accomplished and apparent feat, the three of them sat down with me on the bench, snugly, rolled a cigarette on the forlorn stone slab on the right hand side, and stared, somewhat less taken aback, together with me at the somewhat failed homage to Corbusier.»
«My main source of inspiration in and around Faucogney-et-la-mer is the forest, with its numerous smaller and bigger sized lakes and ponds, the moss and the fern. fairly perfect for those who appreciate the kitsch.»
September 03 – November 25
Iva Svoboda, Béla Rothenbühler, Synnove Kruse Serup, Pia R. Schwarz
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