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EFFI & AMIR

TEXTS

(written for the verenigdesandbergen magazine, issu 33, october 2003)

Sat. 06.09.03

We started our journey to Albania.

Intentionly we have picked the long way; a train to Brussles, a flight to Rome, then another one to Bari (south-east Italy) then a 9- hours ferry across the adriatic sea to Durres, on the Albanian coast. We thought it should be quite a romantic journey, suitable to the somewhat romantic destination. Albania, how exotic! We decided to follow our prejudice and the scent of adventure.

At 20:00 we landed in Bari, looking forward to some rest and a nice, very necessary shower (Amir had to work in the bakery this morning and a little cloud of yeast, raisins sweat and aeroplane's refreshener flavours is surrounding him), but our modest dreams are shattered as we find out our luggage didn't make it, it was lost on the way. The “lost and found” clerk is not being very helpful and although she's not the one to blame, we find it hard to saty calm she tells us in a flat voice that our luggage might arrive tonight or tomorrow and if not then it usually takes 3 to 5 days. Usually?! Yes, she says, It happens every day. That's a piece of usefull information, if only we had known! We are trying our best to make the whole airport crew feel guilty. Effi is even threatening to spend the night on the baggage trail. But they are not really impressed.

Actually we are really worried. We have there, apart from our money (yes we know- we shouldn't have put it there in the first place) all the props we prepared for our work, we can't go on wthout them. After a short conversation with the chief policeman we are allowed to spend the night in the airport. The terminal is locked for the night. For dinner we have few Crostini snacks from the automatic machine.We sleep on the bare floor. Only one lovely little catholic chapel to comfort us.

Sun 07.09.03

Woke up at 0500, all sharp and ready to attack the RIGHT PERSON. But there is no right person, no one seems to take responsibility, we're in the hands of God, or of an arbitrary airport worker. So, off we go to the port, we have reserved tickets for a ferry leaving at noon. “oh, you lost your luggage in Rome!” says the lady at the desk. “i know how it feels, it also happened to me” at least we get some sympathy. “No problem, your tickets are payed, you can take the boat whenever you like”. That was easy! Now we're doomed to spend a day in Bari. An imposed vacation and we quite enjoy it. At 21:00 we are back in the terminal. The airport team is greeting us, we are old friends already. Only the man at the “lost and Found” booth is red with anger. Our luggage have arrived an hour ago and he's been phoning all the ferry-companies like crazy, trying to locate us. We don't even bother to argue (well, maybe just a little bit, it's our national sport, and besides- they did have our mobile number, we are the ones who are supposed to be angry!). But now, since we have our stuff back we are soft as butter and our minds are focused on the future.

Mon. O8.09.03

10:00. We're at the port. There's a different lady at the desk, we have to repeat our story, right to the good-end, which is, us, here, with our stuff ready to board. “But there's no ferry leaving at noon, only on weekends. But you can take the one that leaves at 23:00” Now, this is too much. We cannot take a night ferry we need to film on board, we want to see where we are, we want to speak with people! We tell her we must leave NOW. There's another ferry, from a different company that leaves in 20 minutes, and gets there in 3 hours. A little too short for our plans, but we assume it's better than dark. Now we are running between the two desks, our tickets are not refundable, the returm ticked has to be issued here, they don't have this facility in Durres, this requires 3 phone calls to Greece, while meanwhile we are running to the other company to buy the tickets and to make sure they don't leave without us. The ladies on both desks seem to enjoy this little bit of unusual action .

We are on board. It's a tiny ferry, and immediately we understand we won't be able to do much. We cannot even go outside, it's like a little aquarium. Despite the slight depression we start thinking on plan B (that is shooting on the beach, pretending we are on sea). But within few seconds we think no more. We are out in the open sea, and the sea is damn high. It's incredibly stormy and the waves literally throw the little boat in the air. The sailors are busy running around handing over yellow plastic bags and switching the full ones. Everybody's vomiting. No question of looking through a viewfinder. Actually we don't care about anything anymore, when our head is not dipped in the stinking bag we fix our pleading gaze at the clock. We know that 3 hours can take very long. 90 minute have passed. And suddenly something happens. The boat is lowering its gears, which is kind of nice for the stomach but also quite suspicious. Then the speaker is on; "Siniori e Sinoras………………..a Bari", and in English- we cannot go any further we are going back to Bari. At this point we seriously start doubting we ever get across the Adriatic to see Albania. We wanted to take the hard way, but, hey, we didn't really MEAN it.

Tue. 09.09.03

It's past midnight so it's Tuesday already. We are two days late but finally, exhausted on the big and slow ferry boat, heading eastwards. We took a cabin, a tiny symmetrical box that smells of gasoline and has a window to the sea. We have to think a little bit about our work and, yes, to finally do something. We have a general plan. The biennale's theme is “U-Topus”, referring to the end of big utopias and their replacement by local, personal ones. A theme which we can easy relate to with our continuing absurd efforts to declare ourselves an autonomous, self-contained unit. For this project we have the following guidelines; the travel on sea towards an unknown place (it's the opposite route Albanian refugees used to take), us as western travelers about to reveal and to conquer a land (which is innocent? Savage? Magical? Dangerous?)- a scenario that was traditionally imposed on the "orient", where we come from. And also- us as pirates, a metaphor for an independent structure, with no lands and no state rules, an autonomous criminal traveling unit. And finally the exciting and abstract experience of passing through a Non Territorial Water. Being nowhere, literally.

Wed. 10.09.03

We've been already introduced to the space and the people who are sharing it with us. We have quite a limited portion of it, and a very limited time to do something about it. Yesterday afternoon we also made some complimentary shootings in Tirana itself for the video and now it's time to edit. It was fixed in advance that we'll get editing facilities. At noon time our editing suite arrives in the form of Arian, an Albanian young artist, extremly kind and generous guy, with his personal computer. we're going to edit in the middle of the national gallery space, surrounded by beautiful medival icons, drilling sound, dust and shouts and roaring staple guns, because in Arian's place, as everywhere else, the electricity is cut off for few hours during the day, whereas in the gallery, lucky us, electricity is permanent. Permanent, but not so stable. Each time we try to open a file the computer simply shuts itself in protest. It takes us till 20:00 to get half a minute done, and with each our that passes our plans shrinks. But then, we get better, we learn how to trick the computer and not to irritate the sensitive electricity. Things go faster, but our nerves are quite worn out. At 2:00 we declare the work as done; it's a 4 minutes video with no sound, plenty of dropped frames while playback, but we are quite happy with it.

Thur. 11.09.03

This is the day to handle the space. We use some objects we brought with us; a cheerful chain with little flags depicting us as a doubled headed figure, a paraphrase on the Albanian flag. Like the eagle, we too have wings but our posture suggests we are holding pistols and are about to shoot. As you know, Albania has a reputation of being violent, (but so has Israel) and in the image we created the double-headed creature (us) is going on a suicidal dual. We also collect many empty bottles for the healing, but also snobbish, ex-territorial water.

Friday 12.09.03

From now on, it's going to be fun days. Work was short and intensive, and apart from some cleaning it's all done now. In noon-time it's the opening for the press, and the rest of the day we dedicate for exploring Tirana. In the early evening we are going for a walk along the promanade above “lake Tirana”, sunset is beautiful and the promanade is crowded. From down the hill we hear the sound of Kareoki coming through a big circus-like tent. But on the promanade there's ententainment too. Apart from the grilled corns one can also amuse themselves with shooting in a hunting rifle. The improvised shooting stand is oparated by a very tough looking 13 year old kid, who demonstartes an absolute control in his totally unaccurate rifle. No matter how bad we shoot- he doesn't smile.

Saturday

In the evening it's the official opening. The place is surpisingly busy and there's also a show going on. A gypsy band and 4 very young girls who do some very serious belly-dancing. As non-politically correct as can be.Later on, there's a party in the same tent where we heard the Kareoki the other day. The party is great fun, but the fact that it's also an election-campaign-party make the whole thing a bit strange.

Edi Rama, the present mayor of Tirana, is a painter and the director of the biennale, and throughout the election month he throws a party for the Tirana youngsters every night. Almost all the artists were discussing the dictatorial tendencies of this democratic leader. Still, (coming from another portentous democratic country, one may say) we wish our political leaders would produce international art-event as their preferable electoral device. After all, that what art was all about in the first place, wasn't it