geert lovink on Sat, 28 Apr 2001 23:07:06 +0200 (CEST) |
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<nettime> (No) Paris No Cry: Hans Ulrich Obrist interviewing Anri Sala |
[The contemporary arts curator Hans Ulrich Obrist interviewing the Albanian artist Anri Sala. Posted with permission on nettime. /geert] (NO) PARIS NO CRY HUO interviews ANRI SALA in Paris, November 2000 Hans Ulrich Obrist ... In a conference in Tokyo, the Japanese artist Tsuyoshi Ozawa asked me when I last cried in an exhibition, thinking it happens allot in the cinema, in films like Lars von Trier's Breaking the Waves and so on... but quite rarely in exhibitions. We started from there some weeks ago when we started the interview but the camera did not work... Anri Sala And since that time I have been asking people the question. For example, in Dancer in the Dark, people responded that either they cried non-stop, or they saw people crying in the cinema. Each time I've been inquiring why they cry, what specifically makes them cry. One of the answers I preferred, certainly because it was in my interest to hear it, was that "it's the camera, the movements of the camera, that makes me cry, it's not the story". Someone told me that through to the 19th century people would cry in front of a painting. I haven't been able to verify this part of the history of art, perhaps you know more. Is it plausible? HUO Yes, allot, before the moving image. AS So what happened within one hundred years or even less that people don't cry anymore? HUO It's shifted, they still cry, but they cry more in the cinema. AS Yeah, so before they were crying in front of paintings. HUO Yes. AS I can understand that people cry in movies, but I dislike it when they cry for the wrong reasons. HUO You mentioned a story about tears... AS I was speaking with XXXXXX, whom you met yesterday, and he saw La Dolce Vita a few days ago, and cried, and said he was very happy not to have seen the film before. I think this is a case where someone cry's is unconditioned; it's the work that makes you cry, it's not because it's a film, and it's not because the people tried everything possible to make you cry. I mentioned to you these objects that I saw in Albania, I believe they're of Illyrian and Roman origin, and belong to the period before Jesus Christ. They are small (I don't know how to describe it, so I just draw it in front of the camera, like this, and this in glass, although at that time glass wasn't very transparent but still a little bit green. Archaeologists found them in a dig; they were used when someone died, only by the family of the deceased, who would cry and pour the tears in there. In Albania we call it "Lotore", which comes from "tear", and in Italian they call it Lacrimore or Lacrima, that which has to do with Lacrima or tears. These tear-objects gathered from the family would then be put into the grave with the body. HUO Like a Warholian time capsule. AS The practice was stopped, as it didn't conform to the Christian religion. Before the Christian era, these mourners cried because they didn't believe the beloved would enter into the next life, they believed this was the end. In Zurich I found this book, "No drawing No Cry", but I didn't get to have a good look at it, I just saw three pages, including this hotel stationery... Is it all like this? HUO Yes, it was Martin Kippenberger's last book. He used to do all these drawings on hotel paper, and then he died, so the book is full of empty hotel paper from all over the world ...No drawing, no cry. Last night I saw for the first time your very first short film. So to begin at the beginning, I thought you could talk about how this film came about. AS This is the first thing I did when I came to Paris four years ago, and nearly the first time I was working with a computer program. That was in 1997. >From a turn-of-the-century photograph taken by an Albanian photographer of Italian origin who established himself in the North of Albania, in a town called Shkodra. You can see from the photo that it was taken at the beginning of the century in some part of the Ottoman Empire, as Albania was part of this empire at the time. It was the first time a photographer's studio appeared in this town, and they say people were so surprised when they saw themselves on photographic paper and so on. In this photo you see three women, two Muslims and one catholic, sewing with a sewing machine. I prepared a fabric with Manet's Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe ... It's just a joke about taboos, especially taboos in Albania in relation with this woman being naked, this foreign body... but also about the first reaction to this painting when it was first shown in Paris. So in the film's animation, the women are sewing the painting in order to dress the naked women as themselves, in traditional North Albanian dress. It was a little bitter, not only about the gap but also about the different contexts. HUO Have you always worked with photography and film? Did you ever paint? AS I can show you photos of paintings I did from the time I was ten years old in Albania. I did mainly painting for a while, and then started making installations. Then I came to Paris. I didn't actually have an interest in cinema. I liked to watch movies though, but in Albania you could only see Albanian, Vietnamese or Indian movies and the like. When I came to Paris, I did first some animation also because I was just amazed that I could work with a computer program and animate photographs. The next thing I did was Intervista, but when I made Intervista, I didn't know I was making a movie. It was just in the nature of the project to film what was happening with me and with the voice... all this you can see in the film. It was afterward when I had to edit the video that I began to realize it was becoming like a movie. HUO And that was the first moment you felt you were becoming a moviemaker? AS Yes, when the rushes were all done and the movie was already in the computer. The moment I was completely sure is when I had to give it a title, and credits, and to thank all those who helped me... HUO So it wasn't a conscious decision to become a video artist or filmmaker, it just kind of happened. AS Yes. I had become interested in researching this interview with my mother... I always become interested in things before I know how I'm going to handle them. In the case of Intervista, I happened that the way I thought to handle it was with a camera, and I also learned allot doing Intervista, because before making it I had only picked up a camera a few times. HUO When you were a painter in Tirana, was there a pre-occupation, or curiosity in, or obsession with cinema? AS Curiosity in cinema was not proper to cinema. You know in Albania you couldn't see everything, but you could find things sous le manteau (underground). If you searched you could find books circulating illegally, but only if you knew certain people, and if they trusted you, because it was very dangerous for them and for you. You could find movies, but to see a tape you need a VHS player, and this was not part of our apartments as it is today. So to see an illegal movie was practically impossible. I remember one of the first movies I saw when I had access to a VHS was A Clockwork Orange. Some of the special things we could see from the beginning were Chaplins movies like The Dictator or Modern Times, which I find fantastic, especially Modern Times, I really find it amazing, and I still have the tape. There are thirty seconds in this movie where you understand what happened with the art of the 1970s in America, or Pop Art. It's Chaplin dreaming: he¹s playing a guy in love with this girl and they are starving, so they¹re dreaming. In the dream the man is leaving this nice, American-type house and the wife is saying good-bye. She is very happy and runs after him and kisses him, dressed in a polka dot dress like a Roy Lichtenstein painting. When she re-enters the house, its just Pop, like the promised life, incredible. Subjectively, personally, I find this the beginning of Pop Art. HUO Who are your other films heroes? Films you saw over and over again of that have influenced you. I'm interested in your musée imaginaire of moving images. AS I have to say I saw some Epstein films several times. HUO Also early on in Albania? AS No, here. In Albania I saw fewer movies. There is a place in Paris called La Bibliothèque du Film where for one hundred francs a year you can go and see all the films you wish. I used to go there a lot my first year in Paris, without really thinking about making films. I don't think I became interested in making films by watching them. I think it was because somewhere I lost interest in painting, and because video was a better way, a better medium to express what I was feeling, my desires and what was important to me. HUO Tell me about the origin of Intervista, as it really was a chance encounter. AS I left Albania in 1996 and had been in Paris for one year. So in 1997 I went back to Albania for summer holidays and saw my parents. They had moved into a smaller house and asked me to sort out my things, to go through the boxes and throw away what I didn't need because there was not enough space. I came across this 16-mm thing in black plastic that I had never seen before. I later realized that it was my parents', but they had forgotten about it. They thought that anything related to image, painting, photography, etc. would have to be Anri's because he's the artist in the family. HUO Great, so it was attributed it to you. AS I don't think they even looked at it, they just saw a film and said "Anri", tubes of colour and said "Anri"... So I found this thing and that night I looked at some of the frames and saw that it was footage of my mother. Of course looking at it like this was funny, I just saw it as photographs, I didn't see the movie, so I didn't know what was happening as the roll was quite long. I got to see it only upon returning to Paris after summer holidays, when I got access to a 16-mm machine. I realized it was an interview with my mother, and afterward she was in a congress with Enver Hoxha, who was dictator at the time. That was a small surprise; I mean historically I knew she had attended congresses so she might have met politicians of the time. But the thing was to see how young she was! She was about thirty, but when I found it I was twenty-four and now she is fifty-three, so thirty was much nearer to me than to her. I found that this image of her belonged much more to me, to my age, to my moment, than to her age. So this was the big surprise that moved something inside me and made me curious to find the sound reel. I had really hoped to find the sound and not just the words, but as the story turned out I couldn't find the sound so I went to a school for deaf-mutes for help. I didn't imagine it turning into a film at this point. I just said, well, I'm going back to Albania so I might as well take a camera and shoot all this. HUO Whistler said, "art happens"; it's not necessarily a prewritten program. AS The only thing I wrote before going there I didn't really use. Once I found the words, I had the subtitles. I wanted to remake this interview with my mother, so I had prepared five questions to pose to her, but you only find the first one in the film, as the answer changes the following questions... But this was the only thing I knew I was going to ask. After doing this I had learned allot and became interested in continuing, not the same experience or same type of story, but continuing to learn about making film. HUO What happened next in terms of genealogy? AS Nocturne was next. It was different. I knew I didn't want to make a film in Albania because I wanted to try something more challenging; somehow it's easy to find a subject and to work in your own place. And I had the possibility to make a 16-mm film so why not try it? With Intervista as I said I didn't know I was making a movie, and I didn't know how to shoot, everything just happened like that. So after finishing the Intervista video I wanted to make something where I could control the image. As I came from painting, the frame, the composition of each scene was important to me, and I think it came with Nocturne. Once more it is a real story with two real characters but I could decide much more how I wanted to film it; the image was much more important this time. HUO Less improvisation, less chance, less randomness... AS Improvisation remained, with the young military man for example, as until the end I didn't know if he would even come or if he would let me film him. And improvisation comes sometimes from constraints, for example the fact that I could shoot only his hands, or his legs, not his face. This was a constraint that pushed me toward improvisation. Afterward I did a documentary on a French artist's exhibition in Tirana where the subject could be much more ordinary. I found it very difficult to make something out of an exhibition. What was interesting for me was to have the French artist going to Albania, his works confronting another context, people there visiting the exhibition, people who I know, who were my professors and sometimes references at the time. Now me being between these two things: him and them. It seemed much like an art history fairy-tale. HUO With Intervista you reconstituted a missing voice so to speak, and Nocturne is nearly the opposite, a weird sort of loss of voice, or inability or resistance to communicate which you can also see in your Uomoduomo. It starts in Nocturne with the fact that the two protagonists do not meet, and continues in Uomodomo where in the end there remains no one to communicate, which is sort of Thomas Bernhard or Samuel Beckett-like solitude or silence. AS In Intervista I am showing the story as it happens to me: what you see is what I saw. In Nocturne that's not it: what you see is what I show. Intervista is more personal and could be very dangerous politically, all this dealing with the past and the truth and so on, but if you don't believe the story at least you can believe the character, who in this case was my mother, and I think there it works. But to believe the story of this young military guy?! I don't show him, I don't prepare the story, I don't search for him; he is just there from the beginning, and he becomes credible. HUO How did you meet him? AS I arrived in Tourcoing, a small town in the north of France where the Fresnoy school is, and I was trying to meet people because I knew nobody. And as I told you before I wanted to make a film in France, and the only possibility was to make the film there where I was living, so I needed to meet people, to meet stories, to understand a little bit where I was to be living. It was very strange; by night for example it was very strange because the streets are so empty. HUO There also reigns a sort of sadness; it's sort of a depressed place. AS However the people are very interesting and very nice. A friend of mine introduced me to two people. The guy with the fish told me so many incredible things among these fish, and the way he talks about them is very subtle. HUO Who is he? Is he an artist? AS He worked in cinema making decors, where he earned quite and bit and did quite well. He was in high demand, but stopped that line of work and decided to live with the fish because he found he was becoming too professional. He used to work in Paris. HUO The film is about two forms of refusal to communicate. There is a desire for dialogue but at the same time a refusal to communicate. AS When people see this film they say "Oh my god this is interesting, those people are so crazy", but I don't think those people are crazy at all. You can see they like to speak, they would like to have a dialogue, but at the same time don't feel easy speaking with everyone, and don't fit well within the community where they live. In the rushes he said something interesting; when he came back from this war, it was impossible for him to wear jeans because he was used to military dress, so the first two months he still wore military clothes. Ordinary conversation, "ça va ta femme? how is your wife? etc." seemed alien to him as he was accustomed to talking about war, the snipers, the dead people. There were no wives or family relations in their discussions. But when people see the film, not everybody believes in this story, and I can tell you not everyone would believe his story if you told it at the dinner table. What helped me to make this film is that I believed in his story. We spent a lot of time together and I also told him stories I knew from Albania that were violent, maybe not that violent but where someone died in the end. You can't take and not give. And the voice thing is true; it's very important to Uomoduomo that there is no sound, because it makes you wonder if even the image will crash in a minute. HUO No image no cry AS (laughs) HUO It s also interesting in terms of the electronic billboards in Seoul to which you recently consented, and them having no sound, due to the car culture there (whereas in Tokyo the billboards have sound). Seoul has a kind of Blade Runner or apocalyptic technological futuristic ambiance that has become the present with all of these electronic billboards or video screens in the streets, but at the same time it's very interesting that their silence brings them back to low-tech or Charlie Chaplin. AS Driving by you can also see the different possibilities of having the sound, for example on your car radio, but what makes it so interesting is that there is a final choice made to have no sound. In my rushes there is sound, but after Seoul I had to decide what would happen with the video, and decided not to include the sound anymore. HUO How did you meet Uomoduomo? AS I was in Milan, where I actually went to work on another project that would take more time, and would go every day to the Duomo. I saw this man there twice, but I always had the camera with me, a small camera like yours, I had to be discreet. It's very difficult because everybody is like this [makes a gesture] and because in the cathedral there is a part where everyone can enter and sit but you must be careful because people may be praying. Everybody is facing the front of the church, like the Uomoduomo, so it's very difficult because I had to be facing the people to film him. HUO Did he realize you were shooting him? AS No. HUO Was he there every day? AS I saw him twice, two days in the five days I was there. HUO There are strange people that inhabit public spaces. Since I live near Stalingrad, whenever I take an train or a plane (I catch the RER) I always pass by the Gare du Nord, and there is one woman who is permanently standing at the corner there by the pharmacy, everyday from 6:30-7:00 am to midnight, every day, even if it is snowing or raining. It's really scary. AS And there is also a woman in Les Halles, a black woman; you see her when you go in through the main entrance where you by tickets. She spends her entire day cleaning the glass there. HUO Shes not employed to do the work? AS No, and it's open place, public glass, it's not her property, but still she has a strong relationship of belonging with it. She is like your character. I remember seeing her there four years ago when I came to Paris and she is still there now. HUO There is also this person that used to be in at Cafe Carette at Trocadero who was waiting for this appointment who never arrived. She would sit at the table all day long, occasionally walking out and asking if the appointment had arrived. The first time you didn't notice anything unusual, you would just think she is waiting for an appointment, and then you realize it's a loop kind of thing. That's why I thought Uomoduomo was Beckett like. AS And you know Beckett was one of the most fashionable and popular playwrights in Albania in the 1990s. The first plays you had right after the communist and socialist plays were Beckett and Ionesco. HUO Once communism was gone... AS Beckett came in. I think it has a lot to do with this waiting for something. HUO So in a sense you would agree that Uomoduomo has a Beckett undercurrent? AS Yes, there is at least a feeling like this. HUO What is your unrealised project? This is the one question I ask in every interview: is there any project that is too utopian or too microscopic or too big to be built, or that you have too long forgotten? AS For the moment I have several projects I would like to realize, but I dont know which will be the unlucky one. There is a project we had in Albania ten years ago which we loved and which we never realized. In Albania there are 600,000 bunkers. They are everywhere: on the land, in the mountains, in the villages, in the towns... it looks like an attraction. So with friends from the Academy of Fine Arts at the time we painted three or four. We enjoyed it, but it was expensive to buy the colours, so we dreamed up a project to find sponsors in Europe or the States to help us. We would paint a bunker, make a very good photo of it and sell it to a family abroad, and call it "this family's bunker". The family would pay just enough to buy the colour to paint another bunker. There are 600,000 of them but we still believed we could start it; we wanted to do it but never did. HUO Having 600,000 families or individuals making a donation would cover all the bunkers in Albania. AS It was about finding people to adopt a bunker -- each would cost around 200 or 300 FF in paint. We asked ourselves how they should be painted. Should we paint them so that one could see them from a plane or should we paint them in a way so that people passing by would see them? It was difficult to choose, because if you want to make them pleasing to people passing by in the fields or the streets you have to use lots of colours. HUO At the same time there is the idea that the whole country would become a painting. This leads me to another question in terms of cities. In previous discussions you told me allot about Tirana, it's urban structure and tissue and how it works and so on. We have also talked about Lille, and now the interview is taking place in Paris. Could you talk about these migrations and how cities have influenced the way you work? And about Tirana as an urban space, and Paris as an urban space... in how far Paris may have changed the way you work. This could then lead in to your telling me about your current projects in Paris. AS When I came to France I spent the first two years mostly in Paris, so Lille is not a town in which I really lived: I slept allot in Lille but I didn't spend a lot of time there. Paris and Tirana: the most interesting thing for me, and I can really just keep this to myself, is the big sensation I get arriving in one city from the other. I spend six or eight months in Paris and just one month in Tirana, or one year in Paris and two weeks in Tirana, all this just to have this big sensation of one day when the plane is landing, the day I arrive at home in Tirana and the first day I'm walking down the street... you have all these eight months of Paris clashing with these three weeks of Tirana, but knowing that these three weeks in Tirana are not alone because it's really twenty-four years of Tirana coming back. What's interesting is to see what is in the minority now -- is it Paris or is it Tirana? HUO In terms of language. AS In terms of language it's very interesting. Lots of things are still easier to say in Albanian, others are easier to write in English, and other things to say or to write in French. Very often when I¹m writing for myself I begin in Albanian, continue in English and end up in French. It depends on what I'm saying and wh ich period it concerns. For example, if I write about something that happened fifteen years ago it's much easier in Albanian. If I write down an idea that concerns me now or that I've had in the last few years it's probable I will write it in French, but there are no rules. HUO I always have the feeling that when I'm in Paris I must speak English, as to live in Paris and speak French entails a risk of assuming a new identity. Already going from my native German to English I was always afraid of this necessity to give up identity, or to make fluid identity (to leave German and to enter French). So it's this idea of permanently escaping identity. Speaking English in Paris or French in London suits me better than speaking French in Paris. AS This is a right idea, although most of the time I speak french when in Paris because it's difficult to speak English with people. When I came to Paris four years ago I didn't speak French and it was very difficult to make friends. HUO Paris has changed in these regards since the arrival of Internet.... AS Yes, but meanwhile I have changed quicker because I learned French (laughs). Where is Tirana or where is Paris? We often forget that a city is always linked to its geography, at the base of a mountain or on either side of a river. You forget about this when you live in a town, at least I do because I so seldom leave the Paris to go to the provinces, and although I know Albania better, lately when I go to Tirana I rarely go out to the villages. I go Tirana-plane-Paris, Paris-plane-Tirana, so I forget the relation it has with the rural landscape, with the people living in villages. I accept to live through cities but at the same time I think it's not right at all, so I can't give you any good ideas, because allot of what goes into making a city comes from outside the city, something I don't know very well. HUO An inside-outside flux? Countryside-city relation? AS Yes. Ten years ago Tirana had 300,000 inhabitants and now it has about 800,000, nearly three times more. HUO That's similar to an Asian condition; that's like China. AS And all this because people came from the north and from the south into Tirana. This changes a city and the way people use the city: the preferences, which streets, which squares are used by which inhabitants, who is spending lots of time in this other square..., dividing the city in different communities. HUO Your work in Tirana has been largely biographical. What about Paris? Does the city enter your work? I'm trying to determine in how far the site or the city affects your work, ... lead to your new portraits? AS I've never filmed in Paris, it's incredible. HUO I saw you film in Seoul, but I never saw you film in Paris. AS And Byrek was filmed in Brussels. HUO Could you speak about Byrek? It begins with a recipe, no? AS My grandmother sent me a letter in March of this year in which she is preoccupied with my health. She wanted me to eat better, to cook for myself and not to rely on sandwiches and the like. So she sent me this recipe for Byrek, but it's incredibly difficult to make this thing, as you see in the video. So, because I can never make Byrek myself, my reaction was to make a video about making Byrek. In fact my first reaction was to write text, which you see projected like a slide, where I remember everything relating to Byrek and my grandmother. Writing the text I realized also how weird this Byrek story was, because normally when you make Byrek you take a bowl of flour and water and it can become very big. But my family's Byrek developed in the opposite direction over time: in the beginning we were five, so it was big like this, then my sister left and it became smaller, now my grandmother is too old so she can't do it anymore. What you see in the film is an old Albanian woman making the same recipe in the same traditional way, but in Brussels. It made no sense to go to Tirana as my grandmother can't make it anymore, so rather than going all the way to Tirana it was easier for me to find this woman in Brussels. HUO But it's not Paris; it's Brussels, that's interesting. Why do you think you never filmed in Paris? AS I don't know. Maybe it's related to the language thing. I can more or less understand my place in Tirana and in Albania and relate it to my identity. Then there are places like Milan or Brussels where I've never lived, just spent a few days, and in one day I can construct my own space and time there without finding an identity related to the town. In Italy I speak English, I can't speak Italian, but in France I speak French -- I am trying to construct some kind of identity here, which is difficult and not clear at all, and which makes it difficult to shoot here. HUO Unless you would speak English. AS Maybe if start speaking English I can start filming in Paris. I'm sure it has something to do with this, is related to language, but I would like to think it over and find a better way to explain it. Going out with a camera in Seoul is much easier to me than going out with a camera in Paris or Tirana because the involvement in the last case is much deeper. HUO You mentioned doing a diary in New York. AS I've never been to New York, and I received this prize that enables me to go and use material there and to rent a car and everything. But to go to New York is complicated, and takes time to get a visa and so on. You always go somewhere because you have an idea: either you go there and you find it or ... I mean it's difficult to go somewhere you've never been where you know so few people and to go there with an idea. I just want to use this possibility of 100 meters of film and three days of car rental and two days of editing but I have no idea what to do there. Lots of Albanians of my age went to the States to study, and to them New York was a city to begin a new life, full of challenges, full of wishes. The only idea that occurs to me for the moment is to go there and write wishes on small pieces of paper and just hide them in buildings. This is something I used to do when I was a small child, six or seven years old: write a name on a piece of paper that I found somewhere that I thought would bring me luck, and hide it. The name was "Abalabala". It was easy to hide things in Tirana because buildings were decrepit and full of holes, perfect for hiding things. But I imagine New York to be like what I see in post cards: I have the impression the buildings are so flat and well built; it must be difficult to hide things. HUO It could be about this paradox. AS You could have this (same) wish on a piece of paper and you don't know where to hide it. HUO Yoko Ono did a " Wish Tree " in the 1960s. AS I don't know this piece. Are they written wishes? HUO Yes, hung on a tree. But this is more exposing them than hiding them. The Wailing Wall in Jerusalem of course has to do with hiding things. AS I have never seen it, but my mother was there six months ago and said she put wishes inside for each member of the family. But I don't know how it's done there; do you write them on a piece of paper? HUO Yes, then you either fold it or roll it... AS ... and you hide it. It would be incredible to go and see what happens to the written wish. Anyway, this was just a small idea of mine for going to New York and using the materials. I could go to New York for one week and just hide the wishes, or I could also think about returning later to see if they are still there and what happened to them. At the same time it's difficult for me; I don't know what I'd wish! I was speaking about this yesterday with Caroline and Nathanaël, that wishes and desires are difficult to find. HUO When Jonas Mekas arrived in New York, he wrote, " I had nowhere to go, just started filming a sort of diary". Are people like Mekas or Van der Keken important for you? AS In the first film I saw by Mekas, he was filming snow in a park or I don't know where, and I think it was later in the film he said he kept filming and filming in New York and suddenly he realized that looking at the rushes nobody could say this was filmed in New York. He realized that what he was filming in New York was similar to Lithuania. Without knowing it he was trying to find a little bit of Lithuania in New York, and was filming something that no one could identify as New York. HUO The audience expects to see Mekas in New York finding Lithuania in New York, the same with Vanderquaken in Amsterdam, a kind of city loop. AS In Amsterdam I saw an Ulay exhibition, and there were these photographs in the market. Did you see them? HUO Yes. AS It also makes me think about this film Amsterdam Global Village. HUO Are there any other important or burning issue we haven't spoken about? AS I will have to think later about why I haven't filmed in Paris... This was something constructive we talked about. For me it's much more interesting because now I have to find an answer. Until now in this Paris & me thing there was no camera, so no image... no sound.... no cry... HUO "No Paris No Cry" AS I think it's not "No Paris No Cry", it's "Paris No Cry". # distributed via <nettime>: no commercial use without permission # <nettime> is a moderated mailing list for net criticism, # collaborative text filtering and cultural politics of the nets # more info: majordomo@bbs.thing.net and "info nettime-l" in the msg body # archive: http://www.nettime.org contact: nettime@bbs.thing.net