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Kilometer Zero
The last time
Kilometer Zero stood at the edge and did their thing, they had stepped
out there by choice; this time, they did it after clinging on by their
fingertips and dragging themselves back over from the other side.
And
if that sounds a little melodramatic, lets take a look at recent
events: According to the KMZ themselves it has been over six months
since the collective of writers, poets, painters, film-makers, etc,
last performed a theatre show and "longer still since the last KMZ
venue series". The last KMZ venue in Paris that this writer attended or
is aware of actually took place on Sunday, December 8th, 2002. It was
held at their squat/artistic abode/venue/ office/home--51 rue
Chateaudun.
On July 31st 2003,
that squat was officially closed by virtue of a police raid. Most of
KMZ had cunningly shifted out both themselves and their belongings some
time before it happened, although not everybody heeded the signs--some,
apparently, found themselves being rudely awakened at around 7AM on
that fateful day by a lively bunch of law enforcement officials, and
told to hit the street. Unfortunately for those wily enough to dodge
the rendezvous, the squat they had settled for turned out to be in such
bad condition that it closed itself down in the form of collapse around
KMZ and their equipment, their computers and their art, long before the
police had a chance to turn up and join in the fun.
With
everything placed in storage and nowhere left to turn, the main heads
of the group drifted in different directions. This spelled the end of
an era for those who believed that KMZ represented the true spirit of
Paris, in terms of art, literature, and community; who believed KMZ to
represent the vital living end of the art spectrum, rather than the
squeaky clean, stuffy, and highly organised museum of art and
literature that Paris itself threatens to become.
But
it wasn’t the end. And as MC Buster Burke pointed out, smiling into his
microphone as a technical hitch held things up at the start of this new
‘Happening!’(the official name of the evening): "Sorry, folks, but this
ain’t the Louvre, you know!" It was a point well made. Here in fact was
the difficult beginning of an artistic journey, not the end.
Luckily,
the ‘Happening!’ turned into a powerhouse evening. The main theme
celebrated Chinese art and the Year of the Monkey, combined with KMZ
and Van Gogh’s Ear/French Connection Poetry Journal. The entire night
was a surprise, not just for the level of organisation, led by curator
Pia Copper and sponsored by the French Association "Tiens bon à Tes
reves," but also for the size of the crowd it attracted.
The
venue, at 7 Blvd. Capucines, literally a minutes walk from Métro Opéra,
was a perfect space for this mixed bunch of artists. It afforded them
several rooms in which to display art (some of it performance); and
literature, in the form of the "Van Gogh’s Ear" poetry journal; and of
course, in which to read work, display video, and tell it like it is to
anybody who cared, or dared, to listen. The Happening quickly took on
the feel of a party. The bar and cocktail set up was just inside the
entrance and people were free to mingle there or to walk into any of
the rooms to watch, listen or participate.
The
celebration of Chinese art was a success on all levels. Intellectuals
will argue what art really is and what it really means until time ends.
But when you have small children laughing in delight and clapping their
hands at one end of a room, while adults solemnly study shapes and
images containing serious underlying messages at the other, nobody can
claim that you didn’t hit the spot.
A
good example of this was artist Chen Hong Han’s performance art "Tir à
la Peinture," in which a painting consisting of a large white star was
fired at by the artist, using a very powerful toy machine-gun! This
resulted in tiny yellow pellets either sticking to the surface of the
painting or skittering around on the floor around it. Of course, the
audience were then invited to step forward and take shots, so that
everybody could participate in the completion of the work. And at that
point, even this writer became an artist for a couple of minutes!
At
the other end of the same room, large rectangular paintings by Li
Tianbing showed disturbing visions of the future, including monsters
and robots and progress gone mad. Images of deformed and off-coloured
vegetables abounded in the paintings, and reminded this writer of the
bizarre and compelling latex sculptures by Yi Chu Chen, displayed in
another room. It turned out that the two artists were working on the
same project together. Making these connections for myself, as many
others did, and finding out the deeper meanings via that process, was
very rewarding, and certainly gave genetically modified food for
thought.
American poet Thomas
Thorpe jumped up to save the day when the above-mentioned technical
hitch delayed Neville Mars, a Dutch architect, from beginning what
turned out to be an astounding talk and video film about the Chinese
government’s plans to build 400 new cities in the next 15 years. In
keeping with the spirit of things, Mr. Thorpe, part of the gang from
"Van Gogh’s Ear", gave an impassioned reading with a suitably Chinese
theme. Later came a mixture of serious and spirited Haiku poems, along
with a lesson on how to write your own.
Art
and performances were in abundance: Gong Yan’s black and white’s
photography: ‘L’attente’; Jiang Dahai’s ‘Encre invisibles’ (the
invisible ink also being referred to as "French ink" for reasons I
still don’t understand!); Kloe Rudolf’s film, "Shanghai Is A Woman";
Yan Chang Ling’s video film, "Bonbon Girl" and photos, were just some.
Chan
Wai Mu’s "Superhéros", showing paper-maché Spidermen in various poses
throughout the building (and a cloth version seemingly crucified at one
end.) provided more visual fun--with, of course, possible deeper
meanings. But serious performance art came towards the close of the
evening in the form of "Xiao Ge et danseurs." With a video film of the
dancers playing in the background, the artists used stepladders to aid
performance of slow, erotic (and painful-looking) acrobatics. Some say
that good art changes the way we perceive the world around us. I for
one will never look at a pair of stepladders in the same way again.
Around
midnight the place was becoming noisy and attention spans were becoming
shorter; some people were drunk and more interested in talking than
listening, but that was fair enough. The party was taking over and the
DJ was preparing to get people dancing. As he went about his
preparations a girl, good and drunk, took to the stage and held a small
number of people, myself included, captivated with some serious,
powerful poetry. It was that rare moment when something truly special
appears as if from nowhere and astounds you. She could have been a
regular member of KMZ, or someone who had wandered in and been drinking
all evening, determined to take advantage of the open-mike invitation.
Once finished, however, she all but ran from the room, probably to the
bar, and the music started up. So they come and go.
That
was the end of my evening; and it was a great evening. I walked away
clutching a copy of the 2002 edition of "Van Gogh’s Ear" Poetry
Journal. Of course, whether or not it was the end or just the beginning
of the evening for everybody else, I don’t know. The plans, like the
rules, only go so far with Kilometer Zero; after that, you have to feel
your own way.
This is Paris. And that’s how it ought to be. Welcome back, KMZ.
--
Kilometer Zero is back and a Happening! is due to take place on the first Sunday of every month. Check out details on their website.
Kilometer Zero is back and a Happening! is due to take place on the first Sunday of every month. Check out details on their website.
