the path

On my first day in Havana we go to the beach at 6am so that we can get back in time for a performance art event. Jess Dobkin is here from Toronto. She leads an afternoon workshop that introduces the participants to a whole slew of practical actions. In the last exercise we begin by writing the work COURAGE in the center of a piece of paper. We then write brief moments when we have been courageous. For some reason I decide to split the word in two. COUR, because it’s close to the French coeur (heart) and AGE, because it takes heart to age (“Ageing is not for wimps!” says my 86 year old mother).

The word courage does in fact come from the Latin word for heart as the seat of emotions. I think about ageing, my mom, Norwegian death cleaning, how I have started this process early (I hope) by going through my archives in the studio, which has led me to this residence, in which I am unpacking some old projects from my archives, at unpack studio in Havana.

Earlier, during the first exercise of this workshop, we stood in front of the group one by one, silently making eye contact with each person in the room. It was harder than it sounds. My heart was beating so fast, and I could feel it so clearly. I can’t remember the last time I felt so fully present and nervous at the same time. I am reminded of why I value live performance. There are a lot of big feelings that happen when you simply stand in front of others and are willing to be seen.

the place

It’s too easy to photograph Havana. Everywhere you look there is something beautiful from the past. But the city has been falling apart for decades and as someone said to me “at a certain point the dilapidated stops being romantic”. These are some views on Havana.

Order of photos:

• The ticket booth at Cinemateca de Cuba.
• Dilapidated symmetry.
• Sleeping dog between two Ladas. (Did John LeCarré ever write a novel set in Cuba?)
• Cars for tourists.
• Empty meat market.
• Fábrica de Arte Cubano (exterior)
• Fábrica de Arte Cubano (one of many interior space for art/film/performance)
• Table cloths hanging in gorgeous old building from the fancy restaurant upstairs.
• Garbage on every corner. I heard this is relatively new.
• Man sharpening knife with pedal power.
• The Museum. Large. Imposing. Run down.
• Mosaic at the Museo de Bellas Artes Cubano.
• The peaceful park beside the Café Literario Márquez de Arcos, an oasis in Old Havana, with statues of authors, and cats. The cats are fed, they nap on the benches.
• Amy Weinhouse reincarnated in Havana. I saw several times in Old Havana.
• Plaza de la Revolución. What’s a trip to Havana without a little Che and Fidel?
• Ocean-side café beside abandoned building site.

art + artists: a couple of couples

Adonis Flores Betancourt and Marianela Orozco invite us to their home in Central Havana. An incredible selection of their work hangs on the walls. We look, listen, and then sit and talk. They are passionate about expressing the toll of violence on the human body and engaging with transformation. Their work slows the gaze by shifting materials, meanings, and engagements with familiar forms.

Charlotte Weismann and Thomas Steiner are the other Unpack residents, they are in the room beside me. They live and work in Linz, Austria. Charlotte’s practice is grounded in ceramics and sculpture, Thomas’ in film animation. They present their work in the Unpack Studio house to an attentive crowd. Charlotte’s ceramic forms are witty, smart, and formally surprizing, Thomas’ dizzying animations are simultaneously thoughtful and excitingly manic. It’s a treat to see their work after having spent so much time with them.

art + artists: some men

This group show is one of two excellently curated exhibitions I experience. Titled Tres Tristes Tigres, the exhibition is curated by Liatna Rodríguez, and includes artists Manual Castillo, Leandro Feal, and Luis Lópes-Chávez. I am drawn to the diving Jesus, the text messages that appear as typing on an old monitor, the bird’s eye view of Berlin. When I check the sheet of paper I am holding, containing a map of the exhibition, I see a work listed where the wall seems to be blank. I move closer to see a peephole. I am reminded of Duchap’s Étant donnés. Here, looking though the eye piece, I see the words The End in neon. I fail to photograph it. A couple sees me looking and asks, “How did you know there was a work there?” We chat and after connecting on Instagram I see that the young woman has a few posts referencing tango. I find tango in Havana by peeping into a hole in a wall.

On a different day Raúl Meriño Recio’s, Células zombies, made of human hair bricks, and Alejandro Ortiz’s Cut Portrait make me take a second look. There is something performative about each of these works. I can feel the body of the artist making them. They dismember something and reconstitute it for us to consider. Someone has put their sweater over the arm of the seat/sculpture.

On a rooftop, Aluan Argüelles’ Cielo raso from the series Monumento, is an installation of clothing donated by families and friends of those who have recently migrated away from Cuba. There is a long list on the wall that contains a fraction of the names of those that have left.

art + artists: more women

Most of the exhibitions I visit are full of work by women. There are several, four, maybe five, group shows I see with artworks by women. Something is afoot. It makes me giddy. I have been taught to be serious if I want to be taken seriously but I choose to be giddy, especially when I see women take up space. Piso 34 at Social 1916 is one of two excellently curated exhibitions I experience. There are more, but this exhibition integrates the artworks into the space so elegantly and shows how a collaborative relationship with a thoughtful curator can elevate artworks. Many of the artists in this exhibition are also showing in various other venues around Havana.

In Havana Vieja, Factoría Habana is an incredible, expansive space showing Mujeres entre la utopía y la distopía curated by Concha Fontenla San Juan. This exhibition has a strong, multi-generational approach featuring twenty female artists. I am drawn to Sandra Ramos‘ La mano de la historia (The hand of history) and the quote “to all orphans of socialism”. The photo of the two girls reminds me of my sister and me in Romania. Each work carries complex conversations which multiply in relation to the works by the surrounding artists, which include Ailen Maleta San Juan, Aimee Garcia, Alejandra Glez, Anyel Judith Goenaga , Dania González Sanabria, Elizabet Cerviño, Evelyn Sosa, Glenda León, Lidzie Alvisa, Mabel Poblete, María Magdalena Campos-Pons, Marta María Pérez Bravo, Monik Molinet, Nadia Diaz, Osy Milián, Paola Fiterre, Rocío Garcia, Sirya Arias, and Yanahara Mauri.

art + artists: the responsive curator

Curator Dannys Oca Montes arrives at the house. We chat. I show her my work, I talk a bit about it. Within thirty minutes she is on the phone texting her colleague at the Museo del Bellas Artes Cuba, requesting the Museum’s screening room so she can host the first of a new series of events for artists “…in conversation with Dannys Oca Montes”. Twenty-four hours later we have a date for a public conversation accompanied by a screening of some of my film and video installation work. This is the type of response I have been waiting for, a simple yes.

the birthday party

Today we went to Lulu’s house to celebrate many birthdays. Hers (94), her son’s, and her

downstairs neighbours, artists Ed Pien and Johannes Zits, who invited us to share in the cake

and celebration. Lulu insisted I drink her rum, soaked with dried fruit, and that I bring a jar

home inside my luggage (wrapped in my underwear!) We all played pin the tail on the donkey.
Thank you Lulu, Ed, Johannes for such a special afternoon

fresh air

This is the day we took a daytrip to Soroa. We were hosted by artists Jesús Gastell and his wife Aliuska Pagarizabal, a teacher of Spanish and Literature (here in a photo with Fidel). Their house is beside a small village school. My mother used to teach in a school like this in Romania when she was 18. I was a little scared of getting on the horse but I am convinced its undulating movements cured my aching back. This is my very good friend Kim. She has come to visit Cuba while I am here. I met her when I arrived for the first rehearsal of my first professional gig as a contemporary dancer. I was 18.

the economy

This is 160 US Dollars. If you change it at a bank you get 120 pesos for 1 dollar. If you change it on the street you get 300 pesos for 1 dollar. For those of us lucky enough to eat out in the evening, there is a lot of bill counting at the end of the night. On the corners, piles of garbage eventually get picked up. There are some stores with a few things in them. There is a giant, state-run ice cream palace called Coppelia. When they started in 1966 there were 26 flavours. When I went with Camilla and Jess they had chocolate. I usually order chocolate. One scoop of ice cream is 9 pesos (roughly five cents). At the ice cream parlor near the residence one scoop of ice cream is 240 pesos (roughly one dollar).

the future: bigger dreams

During my first week I met a young woman working at a restaurant nearby. When she heard I was from Canada she said her dream was to try maple syrup. I messaged my friend who was coming to visit and asked her to bring some maple syrup. A few weeks later I go back to the restaurant to give her a small bottle of maple syrup in the shape of a maple leaf. I say “now you can have bigger dreams.” But she does, she already has bigger dreams, it’s just that she did not tell me about those.

the question

Healing from the world, for the world.

This is what Charlotte said on the way to the Babalawo when I asked her what she needed from him. A Babalawo is a Santeria priest, a spiritual healer (the word literally means “father of secrets” in the Yoruba language). Charlotte has been researching Santeria. She met this Babalawo a few weeks ago and has decided to ask him for guidance. He acts as a conduit and reads her fortune through a binary system of divination. We all come to witness this ceremony in his home. He is welcoming, kind, funny, and humble. Amongst other things, he tells Charlotte she needs to trust herself more. It’s a special morning.

the future: equilibrium

Today’s activities included a translation session with @mila_betanzos at @unpackhavana to create Spanish subtitles for HEX. As we were nearing the end of the text the phrase “unstable equilibrium” came up and Camila showed me her tattoo. Clearly it was meant to be. Like her tattoo, Camila is gently present. She is grounding and generous. She invites me to her home for a meal, we walk, we talk, she teaches me a lullaby her grandfather sang to her, she comes to sit with me on my last night.

the house

There are few photos of the house on the Unpack Studio Instagram page that are not filled with people. These are the spaces of the house, empty and full of promise.

the future: these two

This is my favourite photo from Havana. Me and Mike and Camilla. They are both 22. They are smart, funny, and kind. They are the future.

the farewell

(no words just 4 pictures)