Dormire [To Sleep Santa Maria La Longa il 26 gennaio 1917 Santa Maria La Longa, January 26, 1917

Vorrei imitare I would like to imitate
questo paese this landscape
adagiato settled
nel suo camice in its mantle
di neve of snow]

On March 20 the book was removed, closed, and put away, as was the vitrine.

The vitrine, the glass cage, was my companion during this journey. The inside of my voyaging eyes. It was a motif of the score still to be written. What was at first a vitrine surrounding a text soon became a vitrine surrounded with text. The first vitrine marked an isolated "inside," in the lobby inside the Walker.

 
spring 1994
waskamni: water obtained by melting snow
March 21-June 20, 1994
For the spring work, text fragments and isolated words in many languages were silkscreened or rubber-stamped on the windows of the Cowles Conservatory in the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden, on the windows of the Walker's Gallery 8 restaurant, and on the bay window near the restaurant's entrance. In addition, every day one sheet of glass (78 x 32 x it/¢ in.) with two words engraved on it, was placed inside the Conservatory in front of the windows, often in the same spot, so that thick stacks of the glass sheets were built up. Despite the transparency of the material, these stacks gradually became more and more opaque and ultimately functioned like mirrors.

On June 20 everything was washed and taken away.




 
summer 1994
it has, like you, no name. perhaps [...]
June 21-October 22, 1994
For the summer, a number of films and videos (about absent vistas) were presented inside the Walker on video monitors and outside in the Garden with Super-8mm and 16mm film projectors. The program changed regularly, as did the locations, following a precise scenario.

Inside the Walker, from June 21 to July 24, three of my videotapes were presented on three monitors stationed in the restaurant. Two were installed in front of a row of small windows looking out on the highway and high-rise buildings in downtown Minneapolis. The first video was entitled Eiger, 3970 meters, as seen from the chffylet Uf dem Rain, Grindelwald, Switzerland, May 21, 1993, 8:05-8:43 pm (1993, videotape, color, sound, 38 min.) and consisted of one long shot, in real time, with a stationary camera, of the summit of the Eiger, repeatedly covered and uncovered by clouds. The second videotape in the restaurant was In the Studio, Antwerp, Belgium, August 8, 1993, 5:18-6:18 pm (1993, videotape, color, silent, 60 min.), again one shot in real time with a stationary camera of a small window in my studio through which blue sky and passing clouds can be seen. A third monitor was installed near the bay window on the landing opposite the restaurant entrance and showed Place-Names: The Name (1994, videotape, black and white, sound, 25 min.). The image was entirely white, with a soundtrack of Walker staff member Ariel Muller reading the first 12 pages of Marcel Proust's Noms de pays: le nom (Place Names: The Name) from ct la recherche du temps perdu (Remembrance of Things Past). The reading was recorded in one take without preparation or editing.

From July 25 to August 15, the monitors were relocated to three different stairwell landings in the Walker. Three new videotapes were presented. The first, Walking around the Vesuvius Crater, May 16, 1994, 10-10:30 am (1994, videotape, color, sound, 30 min.), records my footsteps around the Vesuvius Crater, taken in one shot in real time. The second, Walking around on Nicollet Mall, Minneapolis, June 18, 1994/ Place-Names: The Name (1994, videotape, color, sound, 30 min.) is in slow motion and records a walk down one of the major streets in downtown Minneapolis on a sunny day. The sound consists of the same recording of Ariel Muller reading from Proust that was used in Place-Names: The Name. The third video was Walking around in My Studio, Antwerp, Belgium, June-July 1994 (1994, videotape, black and white, sound, 30 min., with an excerpt from Jacques Tati's Jour de fOGte [Holiday] [1949]). The soundtrack was recorded on Nicollet Mall, Minneapolis, June 18, 1994; the video shows slow-motion images of my studio, shot with a constantly moving camera, as well as an excerpt from the opening scene of Tati's film in which the director, playing a postman on his bicycle, is fighting with a mosquito.

From August 16 to September 20, the three monitors were placed on the floor in the lobby and three new videotapes were shown.The first, July 12, 1994, In the Studio I/July 12, 1992, the Wyssroasser at Fieschertal, Switzerland (1994, videotape, color, silent, 30 min.), shows a close-up of a pair of hands leafing through several books (all of which had been used as sources for earlier installations and films at the Walker). These images are interrupted by shots of a rushing stream of melted glacier water. The second video, July 12, 1994, In the Studio II/July 12, 1992, the Wyssroasser at Fieschertal, Switzerland (1994, videotape, color, silent, 30 min.), shows similar images but with a variation in the manipulation of the book. The third video presented was July 12, 1994, In the Studio III (1994, videotape, black and white, silent, 30 min.), showing a pair of hands leafing through a book with blank pages.

On four evenings during the summer, four different film programs were presented in the open air in the Garden, each time in a new location. For each screening, one of the four "rooms" (or quadrants) of the older, French-inspired part of the Garden was used as a "theater." On each occasion, the projectionist stepped in with two projectors, the films, and a long, wide cotton sheet. The sheet was thrown over one of the hedges (as if it were laundry out to dry) to create a screen. The projectors were placed in the grass, wired, and started.

The following programs were presented:

June 21- My overexposed film (1992, Super-8mm film, white, silent, 6 min.), which tried to capture images of the Wyssroasser at Fieschertal and images as seen from my studio window, along with the "mist scene" from Michelangelo Antonioni's Identificazione di una donna (Identification of a Woman) (1982, 12-min. excerpt).

July 23- My Walking around the Vesuvius Crater, May 16, 1994 (1994, Super-8mm film, color, sound, 3it/@ min.) and Walking around in My Studio, Antwerp, Belgium (1994, Super-8mm film, color, sound, 5 min.), both Super-8mm counterparts to similar videotapes presented during that period inside the Walker. Also shown was Ernie Gehr's Eureka (1974, 30 min.), a refilming in slow motion of a turn-of-the-century movie shot from the front of a trolley.

August 15- My unexposed film (1994, Super-8mm film, black, silent, 7 min.), which tried to capture images of the Schelde river in Antwerp, and On a Balcony (1994, Super-8mm film, color, silent, 75 sec.). Also shown was the final scene from Andrey Tarkovsky's The Sacrifice (1986, 8-min. excerpt).

September 24- Kenneth Anger's Rabbit's Moon (1978, 7 min.) and Georges MMEliFFs' Baron Munchausen's Dream (1911, 8it/@ min.). This pro-gram was put together by the Walker's film/video curator Bruce Jenkins, who had been asked to make a selection of films from the Walker's permanent collection to accompany the films selected and presented earlier.

While this suite of film presentations was being offered, a suite of film productions was begun. Walker staff members were asked to make Super-8mm films of the trees in the Garden. The idea was to have various filmmakers shoot the same subject throughout the changing seasons.

In September two monitors in the lobby were removed. Only the monitor showing July 12, 1994, In the Studio III remained in place until October 22.

 
fall 1994
Z
October 23-December 20, 1994
The fall segment started a few weeks late due to the unavailability of the selected exhibition space. It was installed in a "dead space" in Gallery 7, left over from an exhibition of works from the Ruben Bequest.This unfinished space was used to install the 92 glass sheets that had been previously placed in the Conservatory. They were piled up flat in one stack on the floor. Very close by, facing the stack, a monitor was placed showing the videotape July 12, 1994, In the Studio III. On the other side of the stack, approximately four feet away, a second monitor was placed against the wall showing a new video, En regardant Poussin (Et in Arcadia Ego) II (Looking at Poussin [Et in Arcadia Ego] II) (1994, videotape, black and white, silent, 30 min.). This film alternates two types of images: a pair of hands turning the pages of a book that falls down in the end, and a pair of legs and feet turning around on a chair. On top of this second monitor, a Super-8mm projector was placed showing a 10-minute excerpt from Hollis Frampton's film Zorns Lemma (1970). This excerpt shows a woman, a man, and a dog walking from fore-ground to background through a snow-covered field. Mounted on the opposite wall was a large photograph of the Conservatory windows covered with a thick layer of frost. Somewhat off-center in this photograph, a white rectangle of unexposed photographic paper remained. Here and there, isolated words were rubber-stamped onto the wall. Finally, a small mirror was placed on the floor in between two studs of the unfinished temporary wall.

At the same time, the large vitrine was placed again in the lobby. The same Ungaretti book was presented in it, but this time almost closed-a glass marble held the book open at pages 66-67. The poem "Dormire" on page 66 was still readable, and most of the lobby could be seen reflected upside down in the glass marble.

On December 20 everything was removed.




 
winter 1994-1995
with all there is room for in that
December 21, 1994-March 20, 1995
The same "dead space" in Gallery 7 was used for the winter installation. Again, the starting point was the glass sheets, now dispersed in several stacks and placed here and there in the space. In addition, two large paper works were mounted on the wall: oil-stick rubbings of the wooden floorboards of both rooms in my studio. Underneath the wood-grain pattern, a few rubber-stamped words were visible. On one of the rubbings, a large rectangle of blank, untouched paper remained. In addition, two series of slides were projected on the walls, showing the gestures of an arm and hand.

In the lobby, the vitrine remained in place but this time contained a stack of 140 sheets of very thin, nearly transparent Japanese paper. On each page the name of a Swiss Alpine lake and its height above sea level were printed. If the 140 sheets were placed side by side, they would cover exactly the floor space of the two rooms in my studio.

Since the Ruben Bequest exhibition ended February 26 and a new show was going up, the "dead space" was no longer available. Instead, for three weeks, until the beginning of spring, two photos were mounted on a landing in the stairwell, showing the rubbings in situ in my studio in Antwerp.

What remained was finally removed on March 20.




 
spring 1995
he leaves the room and loses himself in the staircases
March 21-June 20, 1995
The spring installation consisted of various elements located both inside and outside of the Walker. The vitrine in the lobby remained in place, but empty this time, though there were rubber-stamped and silkscreened texts on the glazings. All of these texts and isolated words had already appeared earlier in the project, either in written or in audio form. On the wall in the lobby, a large photograph was mounted upside down, showing a pair of hands holding small North Sea shells. In the Garden, a crystal ball was placed on top of an approximately 12-foot-high brick wall. Despite its small size, it was quite visible, especially on sunny days. Another feature of the ball, of course, was its reflection, upside down, of the environment. These elements remained in place throughout the season. All the other elements continually moved around inside the Walker, in both public as well as nonpublic spaces.

From March 21 to April 23, in Gallery 6, a monitor was placed on the floor in a niche, sharing space with works from the permanent collection. The videotape presented was Driving on the Echo Trail (St. Louis County, Northern Minnesota) from Regenbogen Lake to Ed Shave Lake, August 30, 1993 (1993, videotape, color, sound, 12 min.). A box full of North Sea shells was left in the office of Kathy Halbreich, director of the Walker, and another crystal ball was left in the office of Joan Rothfuss, curator. In both cases, the occupants of the offices decided where the objects should go: the shells went on a window sill; the crystal ball was used as a bookend on a bookshelf.

From April 24 to May 21, the box of North Sea shells was poured out on the floor in Gallery 6, and the monitor was removed. In the wall-label text, visitors were invited to take a shell home. An old pair of my shoes, often worn on my trips to Minneapolis, was stuffed with indigenous clay and handed over to Kathy Halbreich, who put the shoes on a shelf in her office. The crystal sphere was removed from Joan Rothfuss' office and relocated to the vitrine in the lobby. In its place, a book was given to her with the request to place it, opened, somewhere in her office. The book had to be opened at the end, where a previous owner had glued a little sheet of paper with a line by Baudelaire: Lfft, tout n'est qu'ordre et beautME (There, everything is order and beauty).

From May 22 to June 20, the shells remaining in Gallery 6 were gathered and deposited in the Garden. Again, visitors were invited to take one if they wanted. The book with the Baudelaire vignette was handed over to Kathy Halbreich, and the shoes with clay to Joan Rothfuss. In the vitrine in the lobby, the crystal ball was removed and replaced by a monitor playing the videotape Driving on the Echo Trail. High up on top of a wall in Gallery 6, the crystal ball was placed.

On June 20 everything was removed and stored. The shells remaining in the Garden were gathered and thrown into the Mississippi River.




 
summer 1995
mark, let me know if there's anything
you'd like to see, joan
June 21-September 20, 1995
In the lobby, on the same wall where the photograph of the hands and shells had been placed, two Xerox bond enlargements were mounted showing stills from videotapes that had been presented earlier: Driving on the Echo Trail and En regardant Poussin (Et in Arcadia Ego) II. The first still included the following excerpt from Italo Calvino's essay "From the Opaque": If they had asked me then what shape the world is, I would have said it is a slope, with irregular shifts in height, with protrusions and hollows, so that somehow it's as if I were always on a balcony . . .it# On the same wall, in approximately the same spot where the photograph had been hung, a large black rectangle was painted. In the outer lobby, high up, just below the skylight, a larger version of the still from En regardant Poussin was placed. Above the main entrance doors, the Calvino quote was silkscreened. At the top of the stairs leading from the outer lobby to the concourse, a transparent sheet of film with a still from Driving on the Echo Trail was mounted on one of the windows. On the hand railing, a cement form describing the space between my hands was left. In addition, near the Gallery 8 restaurant entrance, another still from En regardant Poussin was mounted on the wall. On the window pane, a little bit higher than eye level, a black rectangle was painted. At the bottom of the window, a number of small clay objects were piled. These were entitled What Is in between My Hands (Or Bob's or Randy's) (1995, unfired porcelain). In the Conservatory, another large black rectangle was painted on the windows. A dozen of the What Is in between My Hands forms (1995, cement) were placed in trees throughout the Garden. Finally, the stack of 92 glass sheets was placed outside on one of the museum's terraces. A still from Driving on the Echo Trail was silkscreened on one of the top sheets.

On September 18 everything was removed. Instead, in the Information Room in the museum's lobby, the film On a Balcony was continuously presented. The film shows the balustrade of a balcony somewhere in southern Italy. This film had been shown the previous year in the Garden. On the evening of September 20 this continuous screening ended.

 
fall 1995
leaving the chateau by the vestibule of the marble courtyard, go onto the terrace.
September 21-December 20, 1995
A concrete platform was placed at the beginning of the central path through the Garden, just across from the Walker entrance. This platform was a cast of that part of my studio floor that was missing in the rubbings. So finally the print of my entire studio floor was completed. I had brought the rubber molds used to make these casts with me on the plane. This platform-on the walkway and also "walkable"-functioned as a reference point, a standpoint, a "balcony." In that respect, one of the intentions was to let the platform function as a starting point for a walk through the Garden. The guide for this walk was the English translation of a text written by Louis XIV in the 1690s: ManiFFre de montrer les Jardins de Versailles (How to Show the Gardens of Versailles). So this walk through Versailles was transplanted to Minneapolis. For this purpose, a map was printed reproducing an old engraving of the ground plan of the Versailles garden on one side.
A black dot indicated the location of the King's balcony in the palace, and the captions for the sculptures on view in the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden were printed in the margins. On the other side of this map, the ground plan of the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden was overprinted with the design of the king's walk and the Louis XIV text was printed in the margins. On this side, a red dot marked the location of the concrete platform. This map was available at designated locations, along with other brochures about the Garden.

On December 20 the remaining maps were removed, as well as the platform, which was destroyed.




 
winter 1995-1996
(imitare)
December 21, 1995-March 20, 1996
Beginning December 21 the initial text by Ungaretti was shown again in the lobby, in the exact same spot where it had been presented at the beginning of the project. A slide was made of each of the seven lines of the original poem, paired with the English translations. This series of seven slides concluded with one of the hand-gesture slides that had been shown earlier. The slides were projected from the ceiling onto the floor. On February 29 this was taken away.

On March 1 a sculpture by Dan Flavin was removed from a space in Gallery 6. In its place, the slide projection was reinstalled along with three Super-8mm film projectors that continuously presented the 17 films of trees in the Garden made by the following individuals: Hans Accola, D. Bartley, Charles Carmean (two films), Heidi Eckwall, Kristi Highum (two films), Ted Kersten, Wendy Lane, Larry Miller, Brigid Murphy, Peter Murphy (two films), Arliss Prescott, George Slade, Regina Woods and Ariel Muller, and Lucy Yogerst. Finally, a monitor was placed on the floor, showing Santa Maria La Longa, Italy, December 28, 1995, in the Afternoon/Antwerp, Belgium, Our Backyard as Seen from a Window of My Studio, February 20, 1996, in the Afternoon (1995-1996, videotape, color, sound, 10 min.), a video consisting of two long shots, made with a stationary camera, of two different landscapes. The first was shot near Santa Maria La Longa, Italy-the same place where Ungaretti had written the poem shown at the beginning of the project. The second shot showed our snow-covered, tiny backyard at home, filmed from my studio. In both shots, one can hear the same text, first read by me and then by Joan Rothfuss.

AAA

So at the end I decided to go to Santa Maria La Longa. It took me years to spot it on the map. But probably I always looked hoping not to find.

As long as Santa Maria La Longa remained a landscape of words, it could comprehend everything. It could be everywhere. Maybe it could be found just around the corner, between Antwerp and Ghent, or 5,000 miles away between Minneapolis and St. Cloud. Or just around the corner between Minneapolis and St. Cloud, or 5,000 miles away between Antwerp and Ghent.

There are probably thousands of Santa Marias. Or maybe it's just a prayer or a song, that lasts as long as a breath. Santa Maria La Longa became my name for the namelessness; for what was and what is still to come.

And when it came it was time to go. I bought a new map and looked for it, hoping to find. So there it was: somewhere in northern Italy, toward the east, near the Carso.

So one day I drove down there, at the beginning of the winter, just a few days before the New Year. Passing all these well known cities: Verona, Vicenza, Padova, Venezia. And then finally, between Venezia and Udine, just a few miles north of Palmanova.

Of course at the end the landscape wasn't spectacular or particular. It was even flat, like at home. The fields were freshly ploughed and watered by melted snow. It wasn't spectacular or particular. It was plain, just that.

Today, back home again for quite a while, it snows for the first time this winter. In our small enclosed garden, snowflakes slowly cover up everything.


Vorrei imitare   [I would like to imitate
questo paese   this landscape
adagiato   settled
nel suo camice   in its mantle
di neve of snow]