who lived here?
what do I know
like everywhere, like everyone
Dog
/…/
if you look at it that way, it’s a shithole
there’s that house nearby, full of strange artworks
sculptures ready for the Centre Pompidou
in that greenhouse, a wall of an old house or Tate Modern, just left on the ground
everything looks like rubbish but costs thousands, maybe even more
it’s like this super strange paradox, you know
we’re sort of making art here, rehearsing
and then suddenly Andrėjus walks out to the yard
nods, like, says hello
pulls down his trousers
and starts pissing on the street, by a tree
but the best part’s when Andrėjus’s gang gathers
and we have to skip all the scenes in that corner of theirs
cause that corner’s occupied, how do I put this
by real people
and it’s us who’s “unhappy” in the end, you know
we’re these little, like you like to say, gentrificators
sounds super non-organic actually, but oh well
we need to get this grass cut soon or we’ll pick up a bunch of ticks
Andrėjus (RU)
the director asked me to record it, I’ll just record it
you don’t wanna do it here? alright
ok look, so we’re doing a play here –
the director and me, and there’s also this girl, she’s the playwright
so you’ve always lived here, huh?
I told you, forty years I’ve lived here, yeah
four years I lived in Germany also
I see
and tell me, from your side, this place, did it change somehow?
since ‘81
I mean all the houses, they weren’t even here
and this one, did you know him?
yeah
who was he, a hunter or something?
yeah, a hunter, and a fisherman
was he a cool dude?
he even knew me since I was a kid
yeah, he was cool
he was even shooting at me with a rifle here
you? with a rifle?
yeah
was he catching you or something?
I was a kid, and he had some planks lying around
we took those planks and built a hut there
so he was like, oh…
later he stopped drinking, but he did drink alright
and here, who lived here?
do you remember?
there was this grandma here—
I remember fucking everything
there was this grandma here
with this grandpa
and where I’m living now, there was also a grandma and a grandpa living
her son sold this place to Mindaugas
yeah
what changed? they built the houses, the road changed, everything
what else changed here, nothing
and the people now? if these all moved out
these ones moved out
others moved in
yeah, there, where you have these cottages fuckotages
when you go behind the garden, did you see that tall house?
the new one?
yeah, there used to be an old one
yeah, yeah
some moved in there also
and did you have friends from those who moved away?
from here?
yeah, or you didn’t interact too much with those ones?
almost everyone moved away
and is there anyone you were interacting with who grew up here and still lives here?
I mean, of course there are, a lot of them
but they’re getting fewer and fewer, right?
some of them died, others hanged themselves
others became junkies, that’s how it is
Wake up / Alvydė
I was thinking how nature—
nature doesn’t have it’s own voice
and then it’s like it doesn’t really have anything to say
although when I came here, I felt somewhat unwelcome
I didn’t know where to put myself
and it was dark
and so many of those slugs
so many
and I tried to step into that meadow, still half-asleep
and wherever I step, it’s always on those slugs
I even thought maybe this place was just waking up
and the slugs were just waking up
and the grass, still all wet…
it felt almost a little intimate
don’t know how to put it
I, for instance, like to wake up alone
that’s what I’m used to
falling asleep, of course I like with someone
but waking up…
actually it was exactly that feeling, as if I’d caught nature waking up
and what if it wants to be alone?
/…/
Self-love
I was walking around the house
there’s this sitting spot made by the locals
a little table with a brass picture
a fresh outlook on beauty, I’d say
something between the Virgin Mary, a mermaid and the hippie sexual revolution
a pretty lamp on the table, a little sort of altar
I go ’round the corner, closer to the street
where it’s blocked off from the street
I see this hobo sitting on that side
just out of bed
sitting half-naked
of indescribable age, maybe sixty, seventy
all wizened
wearing nothing but a shirt, half-unbuttoned
this sort of white flannel rag, lightweight
no trousers, completely bare
like a little angel
and he’s pulling his thing
I don’t know what he was trying to do there
he looked like some kind of primate
or a monkey, something from the zoological world
it didn’t look like trying to arouse some kind of passion
rather—
a moment of discovery
like children sometimes explore themselves
he was just staring at it, that act of pulling
wonderful sight
you should sort of just turn and walk away, pretend you didn’t see
but it was just amazing, I couldn’t stop myself from watching
I think he saw me
later I did turn and walk away, leaving the man alone in his affairs
to wake up in his morning
Revenge
feels like you’re being watched
you can’t see them
but everywhere around you feel the presence of someone else
keeps coming out in all sorts of forms
you can’t sit down anywhere
because there’s an invasion that’s herding you out of here
ants
they’re everywhere
they’re huge, climbing up your feet
and your legs are bare
surely I must find a place where there’s none
and I found it—firewood
covered with a plastic film
there was rainwater on it
these little plastic rain holes
I stood on that wood and I looked at them, those ants
I accidentally touched one of those plastic holes with my foot
and the water spilled out
running downhill
it painted little paths on the pavement
this kind of map emerged
an island appeared
two ants fell into that island
couldn’t get out
while all the others
running around, chaos, panic
the neat movement of those ants was disturbed
a total image of a world apocalypse
and I was watching
what surprised me the most
was that I—
when I saw that the sun had dried the pavement very quickly
and the ants went back to their normal quiet lives
I moved another of these plastic rain holes and poured it out on purpose
I feel this temptation for such things
Bees
seventeen to six
on the other hand, what’s the point if it stayed the way it is
I was once travelling to Colombia
but I was keeping bees
and I asked my husband to go and open the entrances holes
’cause in March, although there’s still snow, they have to fly around a bit
they already check the territory
and so he went
I come back
he’s not telling me anything
we’re driving to the farmhouse
and before we get there, he turns to me and goes like
“I want to tell you that there are no more bees
I don’t know, maybe someone was looking for honey or something”
“the hives are open,” he says
everything scattered around
to-o-pen-a-bee-hive-in-WIN-TER
I never even went to check on them
for three years I didn’t go to the farmhouse at all
in those three years the weeds grew four foot tall
reaching the doorstep
where there is no man, nature takes over very quickly
so that’s the meaning of a place, to exist through time?
I don’t know
maybe, and maybe not
or maybe the fact that cities are becoming more beautiful is good?
I mean look, now you can sit down anywhere with your coffee
you go anywhere and it’s always nice, clean, bright
the places you would pass by quicker are disappearing
the city’s just waiting for you
Synthetics
I was also thinking
don’t know how to say this without being offensive
but maybe it’s more about me
I mean the realisation that you don’t live in this time anymore
although the fact itself isn’t really sad
there’s something beautiful about it, that you’ve had the chance to live somewhere else
in a bit of a different time
nowadays, people are super concerned about some kind of wording
I don’t know
maybe to show their intelligence, erudition
I don’t find myself in contemporary wordings
like these ones, for instance
all these performances, projects
in the past, people would make art
now everybody started making projects
and cover themselves up in all these fancy buzzwords
immersive, gentrification, site-specific, self-localisation
some kind of dead words
only meant for some ministry to get cash for a new project
it feels like what matters now is to register oneself, to get approval
like a sort of collection, like “I was here”
but there’s no relationship to the place, no love
ok, maybe “love” sounds too pompous here
but that relationship’s somewhat artificial
these are just my thoughts, nothing serious
when I hear all this, I’m somewhere nearby
not in there
I understand in my mind what it is, but I guess I don’t want to let it in
I feel that it’s gonna ruin something
I think the place itself has nothing to do with it
the relationship with the locals
well, ok, I mean the locals that there are
maybe just that hobo
if you’d tell him “I’ve come here to localise myself”, he’d tell you “go fuck yourself with your localisation”
and in a way he, as a local, would be right
I, for one, am on his side in this case
Ticks
I didn’t find my place here
if I’m in nature
I’m afraid I’ll meet some unexpected person, if he just shows up
because of that fear I need to walk around, to sniff around three times more than what’s normal
and when I’ve done a bunch of circles already
and know for a fact that nobody’s sleeping there, nobody’s lying, nobody’s whatever else
then I can stay for a bit
but those ticks…
when I saw how many I’d picked up
I just sat down and sat in one place
there was once normal nature
just like there are some normal people
same with the ticks
ok, so they bite you, they suck a bit of that blood and could just continue on their way
you wish
they have to mess up your whole system
and same with people
they could be a normal part of nature
that’s why I like theatre
a writer leaves a book, a painter – a painting
a composer – music
and an actor’s work doesn’t remain
here it exists, here it doesn’t
and so I think, thank God, at least you don’t make a mess, you act and you leave
paintings are rubbish if you start stacking them up
does nature need your paintings?
does the tick need them?
doubt it
at least we didn’t put up any decorations here
Anxiety
feels like you’re being watched
you can’t see them
but everywhere around you feel the presence of someone else
I know this place
I come here
I know how things are here, visually I know it
it’s raining now, I know I’ll have to hide somewhere
and I had a place in mind where to do it
but all of the sudden, after walking down this stony path
my body carried me somewhere else
these little steps
a canopy keeping the rain off my head, my face
the feet? it’s hot, so it’s good they’re getting wet
I leaned against the wall
and I felt safe
’cause I knew there was no one behind that door
the house was empty
I always look for places
where there’s no one behind my back
like in cafes, I always look for a table
where I could sit and lean against the wall
maybe we need to listen more to our body, where it’s taking us
I like this idea, that it’s not the human mind
but the body that suggests decisions
it has intuition
animals, for instance, do something similar
when they come into a house
you can’t make them lie down wherever you like
maybe it’s instincts
I mean even when you come to a really nice place
our body feels anxious for some reason
it has a memory
of something
and so this Užupis
I personally never wanted to live here
although a lot of people, lots of my friends live here
really such a VIP, representative place
everything’s nearby, everything’s so charged with history
but for me it’s a bit…
Don’t tell it
I always thought that you have to be very careful with places
better not to even tell anything about them
and if you are telling something, then maybe better avoid names
cities, streets, house numbers
so that nobody follows you there
and I think it’s up to you to make sure you don’t listen when somebody’s talking about places
’cause people…
when they tell stuff, they always talk about the atmosphere
I mean they don’t describe the pavements
or the shape of the fountains
or the canopies
like what kind of canopies there are over the doors
and all those atmospheric stories immediately program disappointment
for anyone who goes there afterwards
and these places, the way we see them
they don’t even really exist
that’s why I’m very sceptical about guide services
what do they tell there?
they just pour you over with some outdated stories
nothing they talk about even really exists anymore
they don’t help us in any way
they don’t even allow us to put these places into ourselves, inside
it’s like someone—
like someone would stand by your bed and tell you how to have sex
“here, the leg goes here, the hand here”
“the back, the lips, uh-huh, there you go”
“here, they used to sell teapots, here, there was a cemetery”
“this is where Andrėjus lives”
no, that’s not the way to do it
I think you should just let a person—
let a person into a place
and see what happens
Pin
five to six
there is no more water in the well
why a person, eighty percent made of water
doesn’t merge with it after getting inside?
why does he float like rubbish?
twelve after six
the bird’s gone quiet
Užupis has always been near me
like now, I stop at the Angel
cyclists are locking their bikes
glancing at Špunka and their clocks
it’s still early, Špunka’s closed
but they’re not upset, the weather’s nice
you can have a walk around the Angel
and everyone’s like under a spell
taking pictures of the Angel
taking pictures of themselves
taking pictures of themselves in front of the Angel
taking pictures of themselves, everyone and the Angel
pictures, pictures, pictures, pictures
and that sound of taking a picture!
sounds as good as a Bach cantata
and if you listen carefully, mass in B minor
Užupis has turned into a hotspot for supermoms
twenty-seven to seven
the bird’s back
not alone
is it the place that changes a person or the person that changes the place?
actually, when I’m here
I’m thinking more about dislocalisation
when a person is being moved to another place
like a pin
I wonder
what calls us back home
to that place
where only the mark of the pin remains
or maybe people don’t leave holes after themselves?
Dream
I have this dream
that keeps recurring
I’m standing in front of a city
in this huge square
and I see a white streak coming towards me in the distance
like a wave
I’m standing there
it seems like I could run, but for some reason I don’t
and then this white streak starts coming closer
and I see that it’s a crowd of people
and they’re running towards me
running
and then they pass by me, like a flood
but they don’t even touch me
I remain standing
and then I turn to look behind me
and I see the city, completely destroyed
it’s at this moment that I realise
that it’s very good to pray here
I see the horizon
I can pray horizontally
not towards the sky, not towards the ground, but horizontally
and my dad, by the way, he also had the same dream
I inherited this dream from my father
Bellflowers
I’ve been in this workshop recently
actually, it was all fine
but then I’m sitting and I’m thinking, shit
my bellflowers are blooming at home
and they only bloom for three days
and I’m sitting here
I mean I could be looking at them now
and I don’t really have anyone to talk to about plants anyway
if you say something
you see those eyes…
and that’s it, you shut up
I have a couple of people I can pour everything out to freely
actually
I could probably talk about nothing but flowers
to be honest I never really understood them
I don’t know the names or anything
but I understand the processes
what happens to them
they’re actually totally communicative
both indoor and wild
if I stopped talking to them, they’d wither in a second
of course, I haven’t started telling them about my feelings or anything
I like these colourless fields
when you look from afar, it looks so bland
but when you get closer, there’re so many of these little colourful flowers
like rye:
you look at it, looks like rye
but when you get close, there’s so much of everything
all these sorts of cornflowers, all sorts of fuck knows what
pink, white, tall
a streak of poppies dropping blooms
and here, you really feel like bringing a trimmer
Wasteman
these are just my thoughts, nothing serious
when we were talking about animal husbandry
this idea came up
that animals are a resource for humans
I think this term, ‘a resource’
is also applicable to humans
there are people
who are no longer useful as resources to this society
and cities are taking action
to extract them from the landscape
like some kind of invasive plant
interestingly, they’re not enemies of that society
nobody’s at war with them
they’re just being wiped off the surface
being moved somewhere far away
where there’s no outside and no inside
just like in nature
and in that wasteland, you can pull your thing wherever you like
and that society, the public
it’s created a new time zone for itself
and it’s society that has to hide in its bathrooms
and here, there’s no bathroom
here it’s like a—
a graveyard of resources
and in some sense what we’re all doing here now
is a kind of preparation, whether you like it or not,
for a humble addition to this graveyard
so please
feel free to look around
pick a cosier spot, pick some flowers
arrange a little bouquet for yourself and your neighbour
and start preparing
for the humble addition to—
you know, you got it
Pier
can I imagine myself as a place?
more or less
the very end of the city, not the centre
when you walk, you feel the solid ground under your feet
concrete
but not rough concrete
maybe white concrete
carpet plants on both sides
beautiful houses
old Italian villas
and suddenly that solid road ends
and completely wild nature begins
no concrete
reeds, pine trees, water
and there’s this shit-covered pier nearby
like a thorn in the water
heavily shat over by birds
lots of shit
come here!
and so you’re standing on that pier and looking at—
I don’t know what you’re looking at
maybe the other shore
but it’d be good if there was fog
and you couldn’t see that other shore
but you’d feel that it’s there
so maybe it’s like this potpourri
something very solid, stable on one side
maybe there’s a bit of posturing in it
and on the other side, that shit-covered pier
and that’s where I feel myself
and what is this “feeling oneself”?
calm
I like myself there
I’d like people to see me that way
as I am there