Arrived in Tabor, CZ today, where I'll be pouring soul into sessions for the next month. Oh yes, and the opening night in Leipzig was utterly delicious, by the way... so good, so perfectly silly. Alas the video (which sums things up best) is too large to upload to youtube. Gah! I'll show you 'pon return.
Anyway. Tabor.
No inkling what to expect!
I've landed, after a spectacular trip across the rolling dark green of central Czech with the train window down and the entire cabin to myself, just laughing, really! I can't explain it other than that any previous trip I've made has never really had a DESTINATION. Crossing through lovely lush pine forest and wheat fields and ponds, I found myself suddenly without a care in the world for my previous senses of hesitation (long story). I felt as though things were strangely young again, reversal of selves to the younger me, flying blind en route to or from maybe Bratislava or Istanbul or Calama, yet tuned or tethered to stronger senses of purpose. Funny how a train ride can occasionally have this paradigm shift.
Upon landing, I'm greeted with a big hug from CESTA director and my project coordinator, Hilary. Thereafter, hugs from Rhys, Mel, George... and meeting all these other artists from here, there, everywhere, soon to number twenty six in all. I haven't seen the full space yet, nor the actual surroundings, though I know it's miles of green and stucco tiled roof and chickens running about and well, sorta' this art camp, for adults. I mean shit, we even share sleeping quarters... dorm style, in the top of the building (which I gather was at one point a mill of sorts). Hilary laughs and assures me that "we're not (expletive)(expletive) hippies"; as while there's a sense of communal cooperation and shared responsibilities (cooking, cleaning, etc), she also tells me she's looking forward to the anarchism I'll bring to the residency. Secret's out! She knows!
So?
Tomorrow is arriving all too soon. But to tell you that I've landed is understating. Wednesday I'll take some time to suss out the lay of the land and get the official roster of things to-do as well as what's expected. George, the other coordinator (and friend) has already filled my head with the possibilities as well as the somewhat comedic dramas that have transpired in the past (shove a number of potentially single, horny artists into a dorm-style situation? You figure it out). Overall, the prospect of this being an odd little petri dish for all types of incubation has me smiling and wondering what the hell's going to happen. Eh? We'll see. Creativity's musty fostering! Eww...
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