Making Places series Dance around the subject – Momus

Making Places series
Dance around the subject – Momus on place and the creative process
By: Jenna Sutela
Photography: Paavo Lehtonen
Posted on September 9, 2009
I recently met with Nick Currie aka Momus, a Scottish writer, design journalist and musician who has lived in
London, Paris, New York, Tokyo and now Berlin. Exploring his “inner Scotlands” as well as the country’s current
efforts towards independence, he just released a book on one hundred and fifty-six Scotlands, which currently do
not exist anywhere. The Book of Scotlands dreams about potential parallel worlds in the spirit of Italo Calvino’s
Invisible Cities – without the limitations of modern urban theory. It casts both utopian and dystopian scenarios on
the writer’s place of origin. Along with Currie’s brilliant new book and redesigning his native country, we talked
about Berlin, my place of wonder and fascination.
It’s Momus.
The Book of Scotlands begins with the statement: “Every lie creates a parallel world. The world in which it
is true.” Does this idea refer to using fiction as a means to tell the truth or is it more about the importance
of imagining alternatives, not settling for something that’s already there?
First of all, it describes a certain approach. One of my working methods over the years has been to pose as a
bastard while doing virtuous things. For instance, I was over-educated for pop music. While actually being a
moralistic Calvinist, I pretended to be a sinner just because it made the songs more interesting for everybody. In
writing, the same manner appears in a milder form – I pretend to be a liar. By proposing that everything in The Book
of Scotlands is a lie, I can tell various truths in an oblique way. To explain this a bit further, I use two strategies in
writing. One of them is the Rorschach where I’m treating Scotland as a random blot of ink, playing with its different
perceptions. Another one is the Japanese technique called Ma, or negative space, which is based on the idea of
making a composition out of not objects themselves but the space between the objects. I write about everything
except Scotland. And by looking at everything that’s not Scotland, I’m hoping to discover the true essence of the
country. It’s like a child with a colouring book – instead of colouring the map of Scotland you colour the sea around
it and finally Scotland appears as a blank space. I like to call it dancing around the subject.
“By looking at everything that’s not Scotland, I’m hoping to
discover the true essence of the country.”
In the spirit of these working techniques, your book includes many visual and symbolic ideas. I particularly
enjoy this one, Scotland number seventy-eight: “The Scotland in which all maps of the country are
displayed upside-down and back-to-front to make everything fresh.” You also touch the future in e.g.
Scotland fifteen: “The tremendously powerful Scotland which nanotechnology has made, by and large,
too small to see.” In my view, your work with the book is very close to design. How do you feel about this
interpretation?
As a matter of fact I was rather influenced by a design group called REDESIGNDEUTCHLAND. Ingo Niermann,
the editor who commissioned The Book of Scotlands was actually part of this group. He had previously written
Umbauland, a book on ten ideas for a better Germany applying design principles to the nation itself. Although
generally considered more a writer than a designer, he managed to come up with a plan including a new grammar,
a new political party as well as a system of assigning allotment gardens to unemployed people and retirees. So
yes, I guess you might as well call my book Redesign Scotland. I find design interesting because it can be very
utopian. Yet, when talking about design, people often pay attention to change more than continuity. And I think it’s
very important to think about continuity.
The book also contains many musical and sonic references – sentences like “They were busy looking at
each other with clicking metal eyes.” or stories about a band called Sonic Flower Groove after an album
by the Scottish group Primal Scream. Would you say that you experience places through their sonic
environment?
Being a musician I obviously have to pay a lot of attention to that. One reason behind the Sonic Flower Groove
episode is that the first time I discovered Berlin was when I came here on tour with Primal Scream in 1987. So I
was thinking what if it was reversed, that I was actually coming from Berlin and experiencing Scotland in the same
way. And I guess that happened with many places, I discovered them as a musician. Music was a way to get my
travel expenses paid.
How would you describe Berlin, your current home city by these attributes?
Berlin is a very quiet town. It has made me lose interest in pop music. The main sound on the streets is the birds
singing. Germans like to see their cities as extensions of the forest and there are trees everywhere. And that’s
very different from e.g. London where there is a lot of pollution and most of the sounds come from traffic or small
speakers in every corner in every sandwich bar… And time is money. In that sense, Berlin is much less capitalist,
much less toxic. And you can hear it. It’s a very avant-garde, experimental city. Even when you go to concerts
you often end up listening to field recordings or the sound of a contact microphone being scraped up and down,
sounds of ping pong balls or balloons. All this could be seen as utterly pretentious in many other cities but here you
don’t have to have an aim or a commercial purpose in what you do. One can escape all sorts of obligations and
necessities. That’s probably one reason why I have stayed here for so long.
Scotland as Rorschach. The Book of Scotlands, pp. 80-81.
Scotland number one hundred and three reads: “A computer makes a Scotland seem almost unnecessary.”
Could this thought be applied to all distant places with internet access – like Finland, my home country,
which you even refer to in the book (Scotland 136) – or is it rather a comment on a lack of identity?
Well, I think we’re seeing a crisis in national identity. I was quoted in a magazine saying that my true motherland
is the internet. I feel like wherever I travel I’m always in this country called the internet. Or maybe it’s the operating
system that counts – and I do almost feel a certain patriotism towards Apple computers. However, there’s another
part of my identity that’s very Scottish. Whatever that is.
“I feel like wherever I travel I’m always in this country called the
internet.”
Furthermore, Scotland number eighty-eight states: “I want Scottish people, rather than tourists, to be the
curators of this culture…” Next to the developing “Scottish way of being”, how would you characterize
living and working in Berlin?
I guess a Berlin way of being is collaboration between the Berliners and the immigrants – either the Turkish
immigrants or the creative immigrants – who all work together to make the city enjoyable. Someone for example
built this relaxed patio where we’re sitting here in Prenzlauer Berg. And like Prenzlauer Berg, Berlin obviously has
different villages. My particular village is Neukölln where there’s a lot more immigrants than here. I really enjoy
the Turkish markets and the exoticism in Neukölln. People are also a bit more economically motivated, though it’s
pretty easy to live in Berlin not thinking commercially at all. Compared to Neukölln, Prenzlauer Berg almost feels
like a white bourgeois paradise. And that makes me a bit uneasy. I feel a need to rebel against monoculture, yet
paradoxically, when I’m in Neukölln I can embody the values of Prenzlauer Berg without feeling like it’s a cliché.
Momus at home in Neukölln, Berlin.
You have lived in major cities around the world. What makes you move, and what made you leave
Scotland in the first place?
It’s just a pattern I established very early because of moving with my father’s work when I was a child. After
studying in Scotland I left for London to make it in music – a thing that all the Scottish musicians do. London felt
like a bigger version of Scotland where more things were possible. Since then, my whole life has been motivated
by appetite for certain things in certain cities. I’ve been lucky not having to work and being free to go wherever,
even if it has made me very poor sometimes. Tokyo is my favourite city in the whole world. If my books are
successful, that’s exactly where I’m going to go next.
How does the change of living environment affect your work?
When I was in Japan I felt quite isolated because I was a foreigner and I couldn’t speak too much Japanese. I
found that my Scottish identity was becoming more important there. The album I made in Tokyo even has these
rather strange Scottish songs on it. Berlin has brought up the need to experiment with sound because that’s
just what people do here. I can spend my mornings at home writing something and the rest of the day is free
for discovering something new. Then again London was a very commercial city so I tried to be successful and
make lots of money. Living and working abroad makes you realize how only half of your personality is your own
to control and the rest is really open to influence. I mean, we’re all chameleons in some way and the environment
does change you. There’s a dialectical process going on between the environment and your personality.
“There’s a dialectical process going on between the environment
and your personality.”
Your blog, Click Opera blurs the boundaries between work and personal life as well as between different
disciplines from design to music and social enquiry. I think it captures the essence of now. Do you have a
working philosophy?
The current theme in a lot of my work is Scheherazade, the wife of the king in One Thousand and One Nights.
Scheherazade was the only one of the king’s wives who he didn’t kill. And that was because she told stories.
Everyday she told him a new story and left it in a very interesting place where she stopped so that he had to
keep her alive to hear what happened next. I really like this idea of challenging yourself by pulling something out
everyday, telling a story in public to stop people from killing you.
Science Poems series
Brain is interesting – A pictorial essay by Nene Tsuboi
By: Nene Tsuboi
Posted on September 11, 2009
Nene Tsuboi is a graphic designer and artist based in Helsinki. She started her work as an illustrator with
ANTEEKSI design collective in 2001, and later founded NOW architecture and design office with architect
Tuomas Toivonen in 2005.
Making Places series
The cross-bench practitioner – Markus Miessen around and about architecture
By: Jenna Sutela
Photography: Paavo Lehtonen
Posted on September 23, 2009
Markus Miessen is an architect, spatial consultant and writer commuting between Berlin, London, and the Middle
East. He has two offices: Studio Miessen, an agency for spatial strategy and cultural analysis and nOffice, an
architectural practice in Berlin. He’s also a board member of the Zürich-based think tank W.I.R.E.. I met with
Miessen to talk about work and life of the contemporary designer that he is.
Markus Miessen at his home office in Prenzlauer Berg, Berlin.
I think your multidisciplinary way of working has a fresh approach to architecture and urbanism. Do you
have a blueprint for design?
It’s a very difficult question to answer because it’s so generic, and at the same time design is usually something
very specific. It can be something big, something small, something physical or non-physical, it can be a policy,
something on paper; it can even be a timetable or an event. There are also two paradigms of work: one of them is
a self-initiated process and the other is a project commissioned by someone from the outside.
However, looking at the latter paradigm my doctrine is that whenever someone approaches you with a brief or with
their own question, the most productive way to deal with it is to ask yourself this question in a more critical way.
Also, when you design, you shouldn’t have a preset format for answering your question. I mean, if someone
approaches me with a brief for a building, it might as well be that after some serious testing of ideas the most
favourable solution turns out not a physical one. Let me refer to Cedric Price who once said that an unhappy
couple might be better advised to get a divorce rather than build a dream house.
“If someone approaches me with a brief for a building, the most
favourable solution might turn out not a physical one.”
You operate somewhere in between design and research touching both the academic field and the field of
popular culture in your work. What makes you take up certain projects?
Ok, to add to what I just said, there are actually three different kinds of projects: one is the self-initiated kind,
the other is the commissioned kind and the third one is something purely economy-related. So, the last one is
obviously the most boring and the first one is the most interesting.
With nOffice we do mostly commissioned architectural or urban projects and Studio Miessen is about research,
teaching, writing, curating and so on. My problem is that with nOffice we’re a little bit idealistic and we don’t
do things for the money. And with Studio Miessen almost all the work apart from the teaching and writing is
independent research, which no one obviously pays for. So, most of the projects I do are based more or less on
personal interest, me being a curious kind of guy.
One way to maintain my lifestyle is to take up economy-related projects on the side – teach or do some
commercial writing for magazines. And in the best case these projects become an extension of my practice. Like
when I was teaching at the Berlage Insitute, we did a student project in Brazil where nOffice happened to be
building a library. The student project resulted in a thorough exploration of the social context of building in Brazil –
something that would never have been possible within the framework of the commissioned project itself.
“Most of my projects are based on personal interest, me being a
curious kind of guy.”
What motivates you to work on independent projects around and about architecture?
To my mind, architecture in its traditional sense almost makes you stop doing things. It’s a praxis of delay, which
means that whatever you do it will take forever. It’s never on time, it’s usually more expensive than you thought,
and there are always fights. There’s this great myth around architecture, e.g. in Germany they have made surveys
on what’s the most respected job and for some reason architects always end up in top three after doctors and
lawyers whilst I would say it’s a really bad job: you’re being used politically, you work crazy hours and the pay is
bad. Of course I’m interested in architecture but at the same time I’m not so sure about the sustainability of the
industry, and I guess that’s what motivates me to do something out of the ordinary.
You have said that you are most interested in the political work of spatial practitioners – “projects, where
authorships start to blur”. Can you give me an example of a project like this?
In 2007 I was invited to do a pavilion at the Lyon Biennial with a brief to communicate the most interesting
architectural and spatial practices in the first decade of the 21st century. Instead of composing a list of what’s
hot I decided to do something more topical and think about Europe at that moment. This was right after the
constitutional referendum had failed and I wanted to explore why this might have happened – why people
mistrusted Europe and didn’t see potential in it. My hypothesis was that if they didn’t understand Europe as a
space they couldn’t trust it as an institution either.
The project was called The Violence of Participation. We invited a hundred artists, architects, curators, writers,
cultural producers, politicians, etc. worldwide to send us an A4 visualization of their spatial perception of Europe.
Then we designed a big round table, which is typically seen as a space for mediation or negotiation but turned
it into something opposite by placing vertical fins on it, making it a space of exclusion with several booth-like
sections. The table was displayed in Lyon together with the hundred visualizations that were corrupted by people
sitting in the booths, drawing their own perceptions of Europe on top of them.
The Violence of Participation, the exhibition. Photo by Markus Miessen.
The Violence of Participation, the book. Photo by Markus Miessen.
What new do you think a designer can bring into political discourse?
It’s certainly not an exclusive quality that an architect or a designer has, but more an outsider-perspective with
curiosity and healthy intellect that makes the discourse more fruitful. I think outsiders are often more productive
in terms of interesting thinking than insiders. It’s all about approaching a topic with certain naivety, from the
perspective of an amateur. The questions you ask are genuine because you aren’t looking for a consensus but an
answer. I actually write about the subject in my new book, Cross-Bench Praxis (out Nov, 2009). The book reflects
on a conflictual mode of participation through looking at cross-bench politicians in the British parliamentary system
– the people with no ties to the political parties at play.
“I think outsiders are often more productive in terms of
interesting thinking than insiders.”
At the moment, you’re working on a new book, doing your PhD for the Centre for Research Architecture at
Goldsmiths in London and running nOffice. How do you find time for doing all this, and do you see your
professional life take over your private life?
Private life is a very difficult term. I’m totally happy about what I’m doing and sometimes I don’t even feel like I’m
working because I’m just doing what interests me. But then there’s also a very different level of private life. For
instance the time I spend with my girlfriend. She comes from a totally different background in terms of working so
with her it’s easy to make a distinction between work and non-work. It’s almost like we have this natural mode of
switching off together. For example, I do most of my work at home in the library, which is located next to the living
room where my girlfriend usually spends her time when she comes home from work. This might sound funny but
the moment I leave my “work world” to enter the living room it’s like a complete break. All the pressure drops in
the living room. My girlfriend also leads a very structured life going to the office at nine in the morning and coming
back at eight, and she only works from Monday to Friday. Now, I’ve started to structure my life according to her –
with the exception that I always start my days at 5.30 in the morning.
That’s early! It reminds me of a project of yours with Hans-Ulrich Obrist, the Brutally Early Club. Can you
tell me about that?
When I was living in London we worked on a couple of projects with Hans-Ulrich, but the problem was that neither
Hans nor me had enough time to arrange proper meetings to discuss things during the days. So we decided to
do it super early. We would meet at a café at 6am, spend three hours talking and getting things done. This event
was soon given the name Brutally Early Club and we started to invite other people to join, using it as a platform to
meet people who would for instance be in London for only one night. And we started doing it in other cities, too.
You work very internationally with projects in Brazil, the US, Europe, and the Middle East. However, your
office is based in Berlin. What does it mean to have an office here? Does the city have an effect on your
thinking and doing?
Well, there are different realities: one is the financial reality, the other has to do with infrastructure and services,
and the third one is time. In terms of financial decision making Berlin is pretty straightforward simply because it’s
cheap. The infrastructure is also pretty efficient, and this has to do with time as well. Compared to e.g. London,
my former home city, where you waste a lot of time in travelling to places, even going to the airport only takes
15 minutes here. London also puts this certain pressure on you all the time. Here, this pressure doesn’t exist.
Of course you can look at it in a skeptical way saying that if there’s no pressure, people just hang out, which
obviously happens a lot, too. But if you’re very committed to your energy and don’t lose it, Berlin becomes very
productive. The lack of pressure, both social and financial, gives you freedom to think in new directions – and play
the cross-bench practitioner, if you will.
Remix series
Value is the next currency – Henrik Moltke on copyright and culture
By: Anni Puolakka and Jenna Sutela
Illustrations: Linda Linko
Posted on October 3, 2009
We met Henrik Moltke, a self-designated openness evangelist and the Danish Creative Commons representative
at café Granola in Vesterbro, Copenhagen to talk about online media and creative practices.
1. The internet leaves no one creating in a vacuum.
You have worked on different Access to Knowledge and copyright reform projects. Is that what an
openness evangelist does?
I go around telling everybody about the advantages of openness in cultural production. I have worked as a
volunteer for the Creative Commons for five years now and people seem to be pretty religious about it – about
open licensing. There are even figures like Richard Stallman (a.k.a. rms), the man who invented free software,
who’s actually wearing a CD-ROM as a halo on top of his head when giving talks.
But you also have a background in traditional media. How did you get interested in free culture?
I made an interview of Lawrence Lessig on Danish national radio’s cyber culture programme Harddisken, where
I was freelancing around the time of the publication of his book Free Culture (2004). I got really inspired by his
thoughts as they promoted ideals that I had only been introduced through science fiction and cyberpunk before.
Reading Lessig got me into thinking about ways to create agreements that would formalise the “hacker ethic” you
see online – and make a system that’s closer to how copyright should be on the internet.
Free culture was also tackled in your documentary film Good Copy Bad Copy a few years ago. The film
presents emerging creative practices, which build on remixing. How do you think the internet has affected
visual and audio production?
To begin with, we are seeing a change from a society where people produce physical objects into a society
designing immaterial products. Unexpected things are going to happen. Most importantly, the idea of a romantic
genious starting his/her work from point zero coming up with something completely new and having a sacred right
to that work doesn’t apply anymore. The internet makes ideas travel and leaves no one creating in a vacuum. It’s
definitely easier for anyone to be creative nowadays. There’s so much shared culture. You take a bit of something
from others and remix. The challenging part is “who really owns what”, as one character in the film puts it. It’s
very human to want credit and respect for one’s work, but ownership is something different, which conflicts with
immaterial works.
“The internet leaves no one creating in a vacuum.”
Do you see the roles of a professional and an amateur merging within these fields? Furthermore, is the
dichotomy even meaningful anymore?
I believe that the difference between a professional and an amateur has to do with money. A professional makes
money and an amateur doesn’t – but it doesn’t make either one better or worse at what they do. The concept of
money is definitely challenged by the internet. If I think of myself, I’ve learned a lot of things by doing, and I like
to collaborate with people just to do new stuff. I don’t need to be rich but I need enough money to have a flat
and travel a bit. I think a lot of people are like that. They make some things for money and other things for free.
And they are willing to share their knowledge, which makes them richer. Things always come back to them. The
problem is that once you start assuming that you are better because you make a lot of money, there will be ten
other people who are as good. I think that everyone should be able to communicate on the same level regardless
of their income and help each other develop further.
2. Sharing knowledge makes people richer.
You work at Socialsquare tackling new ways of designing digital processes, products and tools. Do you
think about the “pro-am phenomenon” (Leadbeater, 2008) in your work there?
At Socialsquare, we support inclusive design that is open for development by many people. It’s inspiring how
several mass concepts (e.g. Firefox) have emerged from hackers playing with open source software. Drawing on
that, we want to design processes, products and tools to further fruitful participation.
“Processes, products and tools should be designed to further
fruitful participation.”
While the boundaries between professionalism and amateurism are blurring, new business models are
needed. There’s a lot of talk on attention economy, experience economy, sharing economy, local economy
and so on. What do you see as the new kinds of currencies emerging from the contemporary creative
sphere?
I think that attention is the currency of today. However, people’s attention span is getting shorter as they get
more links, tweets and all that stuff fed to them all the time. And they have a habit of swarming to certain topics
– that’s what the Slashdot effect is all about. Sometimes they go all wrong. Being required to have an opinion on
everything makes it easy to promote the wrong things as well as make misinterpretations. In other words, one can
quickly engage with a lot of things yet he or she needs to decide what really earns their attention. So maybe we
should talk about value as the currency of tomorrow.
3. Attention is the currency of today.
How are people being recognised and rewarded on collaborative media platforms? How can the price of
different contributions be calculated in remixed material?
They get respect, like for instance on eBay. On Wikipedia, you can see who’s the main architect of an article. The
systems of reward and honour are intricate. It’s really difficult to formulate a good system – especially when it
comes to things like films or books where you don’t have the source visible like in open source software. Putting
value to ideas is difficult, yet we all need money. Also, people are obsessed with free stuff and many artists just
want people to experience their creations. Today, one really has to give up control over copyright in the traditional
sense and come up with new logics of earning.
You are the Creative Commons public project lead in Denmark. Why do you support CC licensing? How
do you think that copyright should react to the changes in creative practices and vice versa?
Creative Commons is based on free software licenses (GPL, etc.). It’s the first, the biggest and the most
constructive system around. It builds on copyright (unlike e.g. the thinking behind Pirate Bay which has
promoted abolition of copyright) and the group behind it is smart. I also like how the Creative Commons changes
dynamically. It reflects on the community behind it instead of just fixing a law, which should always be obeyed
even if it’s not in touch with its users.
Watch Good Copy Bad Copy, a documentary about the current state of copyright and culture by Henrik Moltke,
Andreas Johnsen and Ralf Christensen at http://www.goodcopybadcopy.net.
Making Places series
Mail from BLESS – Paris and Berlin
By: Anni Puolakka and Jenna Sutela
Posted on October 18, 2009
Dispersed in Paris and Berlin, Ines Kaag and Desiree Heiss of the conceptual fashion label BLESS always talk
about their work together. We learned this when we asked to interview both of them face to face, yet separately,
with the same questions, since Jenna happened to be in Berlin and Anni in Paris at the time. Their kind refusal
was explained by the fact that BLESS is something between the two, and therefore they don’t do interviews
alone. So, we ended up in an email conversation with the twosome on the issues of identity and privacy as well as
working together from two different cities.
Ines Kaag + Desiree Heiss = BLESS. Illustration by Manuel Raeder.
Dear Ines and Desiree,
We see your work as something in between art and clothing design. What do you think about this
description and how do you see your position in the fields of fashion and art?
I & D: Honestly, we don’t think in categories. We simply do what we do and everybody is free to interpret and
categorise it. In general, we see our work as creation of everyday products that are made to be used. However,
art projects are welcome since they allow a certain freedom, budget and time to create new products that we
wouldn’t have been able to develop otherwise.
BLESS seems to us as something very unconditional, and something genuinely based on personal
interest. What is the motivation behind your work?
I & D: To earn our living in doing something we like to do and that makes us advance continuously on another,
human level.
How did you get together in the first place?
I & D: We met in Paris in 1993 through a fashion competition and later started a penfriendship. After having visited
each other for our graduation shows, we became close friends and started to discuss each other’s work as well
as work on small projects together. We slowly slided into a more serious ground when Martin Margiela discovered
our fur wig advertisement in i-D magazine and hired us to make wigs for his show.
How big is the company altogether and how do you share the tasks between the two of you? How does it
work to do creative things together?
I & D: We have worked in two different cities, Berlin and Paris from the very beginning. In both cities, we have
one fixed and one freelance employee, plus in Berlin a person that takes care of the shop. We share all the
tasks between the two of us. Our creative work is like a hobby somewhere between the lines of hundreds of
administrative emails.
“Our creative work is like a hobby somewhere between the lines
of hundreds of administrative emails.”
Could you tell us more about your design process?
I & D: There are no fixed rules or schemes in terms of how we work. Everything is imaginable – it just occurs.
Sometimes we develop the ideas 100% together, sometimes 100% separate. At times, one person starts and the
other one ends, one person comes up with an idea and the other one makes the prototype, or one person makes
something and the other person destroys it. Our tools are mainly words and hands. We never draw.
What are your studios in Paris and Berlin like?
I & D: Both are quite special, somehow like private houses, quite green and charming.
BLESS shop Paris, 14 Rue Portefoin. Photo by BLESS.
What do you feel are the differences in working in Paris vs. Berlin? Is it difficult to work from two cities?
BLESS shop Berlin, Mulackstraße 38. Photo by BLESS.
I & D: The secret is that it´s not Berlin “vs.” Paris, but “together with”. We never actually ended up working in
different places but the other way around: we started working like this and haven’t stopped so far. It’s like a long
distance romance – it has its pros and cons like any other form of being together. The main advantage is that we
remain our own bosses, free to work in our own personal way in each city. The cons are the additional costs and
loss of time through internal administration and communication. However, we do meet up at least every ten days
in Berlin, Paris or elsewhere.
“Working in two different cities is like a long distance romance.”
Are there any special charateristics of Paris and Berlin that affect your thinking and doing? And how?
D: Living in a capital means that you can get really everything you need. I like that, as well as the light in Paris.
I: I have no reason to move. The sensation of comfort keeps me in Berlin. I have no idea whether it’s the city itself
or its trees – and it wouldn’t make any difference.
Despite the fact that you work far from each other you are one as BLESS, always presenting your work
together in public. Is this something you make a point of because you are dispersed in different places –
taking care of your public presence together?
I & D: You guessed it right. Since we are often apart, it is important that BLESS is clearly a unit. It wouldn’t exist
without the both of us: the products, the structure and the vision are a dialogue rather than a master plan.
You’re very mysterious when it comes to your identity and keep your private lives, and even working life,
to yourself. We feel that it’s very interesting, especially now that people are sharing more and more in
public in general. Why did you decide to do this?
I & D: We are not at all interested in sharing our personal life with the public. Instead, we are very happy to share
our products that are made to be shared.
Like your working habits your work itself is also very futuristic. How do you see the future?
I & D: Playful.
Thanks!
I & D: Thank you!
Making Places series
Happiness resides at home – Interview with Tuula Pöyhönen of ONNI
By: Anni Puolakka
Photography: Paavo Lehtonen
Posted on November 17, 2009
Writer Harriet Beecher Stowe once said: “Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve;
it is life’s undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room.” It has potential to be a place where the rough and
rampant ideas can flow freely and undisturbed. Tuula Pöyhönen, who works from home, is one of my favourite
Helsinki figures for two reasons: she is uncompromising in both what she says and what she does. Fashion
designer by background, Tuula runs a family, a studio and a shop called ONNI (happiness or luck in Finnish) in an
old textile factory turned into loft apartments. I visited Tuula to discuss the meaning and impacts of working and
collaborating at home.
Tuula Pöyhönen caught by the ONNI shop’s security camera.
What made you take your work home in the first place?
It felt ridiculous to keep the flat empty the whole day and rent a space for a shop where I couldn’t work on my
products. This way, I can combine design work and shop-keeping just like the clothiers, shoemakers and other
similar professionals did in the olden times. Also, it makes integrating family and work life easier. Are there any downsides?
Sometimes it feels like a burden to have the laundry and other homework around. But I like to take care of that
business during the day. When the children come home from the nursery, I want to spend time with them.
ONNI is open by appointment and whenever you’re at home. You have also lent the space for other
purposes (like the launch party of OK Do). Does it ever feel uncomfortable that your home is open to the
public?
I don’t think about it that much. In addition to the shop, the apartment has been used for photo and film shoots,
and if I take on design commissions, I often invite the clients over. My husband doesn’t mind either. Sometimes
I’m wondering if it’s dumb to open your home and life, but then again, I haven’t got anything to hide. If a visitor
gets uneasy about entering a space that’s my home, it’s not really my problem. Once, as a student, I made a
performance with my friend wearing our designs in a shop display window. I noticed that rather than feeling
uncomfortable myself, many passers-by felt uneasy about the fact that they were watching. For me, it has always
been easier to invite people to my place and give rather than go to others’ and receive.
Tuula’s son Mosse in his workshop. Photo by Tuula Pöyhönen.
What are the best things about having an open home?
As a creative professional, if you’re going to meet new clients, it might be difficult to convey your views and sense
of style in an office meeting. I prefer to invite them over in order to show them the atmosphere of my home. It
conveys what I’m like and how I work, the mentality that underpins my design. In my opinion, it’s nonsense to
claim that a design professional is someone who is able to adapt to different people’s wishes. I think that clients
should go to designers who are on the same wavelength to begin with. “If a visitor gets uneasy to enter a space that is my home, it’s not
really my problem.”
It seems that more and more designers are rethinking the binary notion of client/designer, being more
proactive and seeing projects as collaborations rather than commissions. You’ve been in the business
longer than us, do you think there has been a change lately and how might such a change make
designers’ contributions better?
Carrying out my trade independently, I’m able to work with less conditions, negotations and go-betweens. The
results are less calculated and more challenging to buy, but I believe that in the end they satisfy users more than
mass products which are bland compromises designed for everyone, thus meaningful to no one.
Do you think that it’s significant for the ONNI customers to see where the products come from?
I haven’t started the home shop in order to emphasise that instead of child labour ONNI products are home-made.
However, I’m personally fascinated by disclosed processes. I like how, in his new book ‘The Interior World of Tom
Dixon’, designer Tom Dixon reveals his production methods, the materials he uses and what makes him inspired,
instead of just displaying a polished end result. Work on the dining table.
People are perhaps fed up with being alienated from and uninformed about the processes and their
consequences as consumers as well. It feels right to buy things that come from nearby and to know
the story as fully as possible – it adds meaning as well. Small local production also makes for more
interesting cities. Do you have any advice for decision-makers in the city, in terms of making businesses
like yours easier to start and carry out? To be honest, I have no expectations from authorities – I’m too impatient. The official routes are stiff and slow, and
so I think it’s better to do things on your own without asking around for permission or support. Finland is such a
bureaucratic and consensus-seeking country that new ideas are often fought against on the basis of regulations
or exaggerated concerns for health and safety. Independent designers are, in my view, some of the most
penniless creative professionals nowadays. It’s assumed that they make money by selling commodities, but it’s
forgotten that materials and production require finance.
It’s interesting to see how things will develop with more and more young designers interested in
unsolicited, bottom-up work. On the other hand, one designer we asked to interview about having a home
studio where he cooked lunch every day for his employees refused because he thought that by revealing
how small his home studio is, the brand would suffer. For you, it’s quite the opposite, we guess. Yes, I don’t feel the need to hide the scale of my business. But perhaps some companies want to appear big
because they believe that people want to buy success, that people wish to be part of something bigger. At the
moment I’m hoping to expand my company, too – I wish to employ a sewer.
Does working at home set limits to collaboration?
In my case, collaboration is close; people come to my place and we barter. I sew curtains for my photographer
and I’m also lucky to have a graphic designer as a husband. Despite working at home, I don’t want to isolate
myself but work with other professionals. I invited you to organise the OK Do launch party here because I’m
inspired by good company and discussions, and I think that home is the right place for them.
“In my case, collaboration is close; people come to my place and
we barter.”
I think people’s homes are one of the most inspiring places one can find. How does your home shape
your work?
I have two sons (5- and 7-year-olds) and especially when they spent the days at home I had to choose techniques
that allowed me to work in short spans. There was no way I could have made patterns, cut or sewn, so I started
knitting products with thread. I’m also really inspired by the woodwork of my older son. Having started with
making toys out of wood four years ago, he is now exploring how pieces of wood can create a space when nailed
together. And without him, the ONNI shop wouldn’t have it’s wooden security camera. Thanks for inviting us to ONNI!
Science Poems series
Science Poems mix
By: Martti Kalliala and Jenna Sutela
Posted on February 11, 2010
The waveform of the Science Poems mix.
The Science Poems mix sets out to explore the sound of science and the science of sound. The playlist ranges
from sonic experiments and musical inventions to sounds and music deriving from science. But while science
can be described as a systematic knowledge-base or a prescriptive practice, best sounds don’t usually make any
sense. So listen, let dopamine set the mood and get lost in science.
Download the Science Poems mix at http://www.ok-do.eu/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/sciencepoems%20
Rendered.mp3
Kraftwerk: Geiger Counter
Kraftwerk call themselves “music workers” somewhere in between musicians and technicians.
In the spirit of the Science Poems mix, Kraftwerk’s 1975 concept album Radio-Activity has a twin theme being
partly about radioactivity and partly about activity on the radio. Geiger Counter is a study on a radiation detector
picking up more and more gamma rays as we go on with our mix.
The Eerie Sounds of Saturn’s Radio Emissions
This winter, Palais de Tokyo displayed a piece of sound art by David Allen as part of the Chasing Napoleon
exhibition. It recreated Eric Saties’ piece Véritables préludes flasques (pour un chien) [Truly flabby preludes (for
a dog) in French] in a literal manner: the preludes were played above the audio frequency of 20kHz. They were
thus unperceivable to humans yet comfortably within the hearing range of dogs who are able to hear much higher
sounds.
Well above the audio spectrum of Allen’s piece, The Eerie Sounds of Saturn’s Radio Emissions relate to
the auroras of Saturn‘s poles. The emissions were recorded by the Cassini spacecraft and are to be found
somewhere in between 30 and 80 kHz. Theyhave been made audible by shifting them downwards. As the
changes in frequency are rather slow, the recording is also sped up altogether 22 times. The complex radio
spectrum with rising and falling tones is very similar to the Earth’s auroral radio emissions.
We included this track by the inspiration of Avaruusromua (Space Junk in Finnish), a weekly radio show on the
Finnish national radio we both grew up with. Avaruusromua has presented musical visions beyond time and space
for two decades already.
Bass Extreme & Techmaster P.E.B.: Bass Sweep
At the other end of our perceivable audio spectrum lies bass. Bass test tracks are used to test the low end,
or bass response, of audio systems, particularly loudspeakers and amplifiers. They mostly concentrate on
frequencies under 50 Hz where sound is more about feeling and less about hearing. Bass Sweep features two
bass notes sweeping in stereo creating clashing harmonics and pulsating overtones. Note: you might not hear
anything on your laptop speakers as their frequency response goes down to only around 150 Hz!
Kenji Kawai: M01 Chant I – Making of Cyborg
The year is 2029. Cyborgs are made to protect the increasingly information-oriented world from hackers. Kenji
Kawai’s Making of Cyborg haunts like Ghost in the Shell, a 1995 science fiction anime film by Mamoru Oshii and
the most impressive science poem that we know.
Timothy Leary: Trip: The Beginning of the Voyage (Heart Chakra)
Timothy Leary (1920-1996), an American writer, psychologist and futurist, urged people to embrace cultural
changes through the use of psychedelics and by detaching themselves from the existing conventions and
hierarchies in society. An icon of 1960s counterculture, Leary is most famous as a proponent of the therapeutic,
spiritual and emotional benefits of LSD. This is one of the sound montages he recorded for accompanying the
experiments in turning on, tuning in and dropping out.
Dopplereffekt: Z Boson
Like Russia in Winston Churchill’s words, Dopplereffekt is “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma”. There
is no absolute certainty about the individual(s) behind the music. However, Dopplereffekt is generally believed to
be the producer and artist Gerald Donald who is also connected with the projects Der Zyklus, Japanese Telecom
and Arpanet. He is also half of the late Drexciya. Although the musical style of Dopplereffekt has changed over
time the artistic production has always had a strong thematic and conceptual affiliation with science, sexuality and
politics.
Z Boson is taken from the album Linear Accelerator released in 2003 – just a few years after Dopplereffekt had
become linked with the “electro revival” happening at the time. However, with Linear Accelerator this ended
quickly. The album’s music took its conceptual cues from high energy physics and mostly also sounded like
it. While Z Boson is one of the album’s more “approachable” pieces, its subject matter is not: z bosons are
elementary particles that mediate the weak force, one of the fundamental interactions of nature.
Ataraxia: I Ching
I Ching, Book of Changes, is one of the oldest Chinese classic texts. It presents a system of cosmology and
philosophy intrinsic to Chinese culture, centering around the ideas of the dynamic balance of opposites, the
evolution of events as a process, and the acceptance of the inevitability of change. Ataraxia, then again, is not
only the pseudonym of the Moog-wizard Mort Garson but also a concept used to describe a spiritual balance or a
state of perfection that is not possible for human beings to reach entirely. The track I Ching by Ataraxia was made
in 1975 to accompany meditations.
David Rothenberg: Beezus, Beeten, Breep
Musician, composer, author and philosopher-naturalist David Rothenberg meditates by playing with a band
of birds and crickets, and writes about the deep connections between humans and the natural world. Like
evolutionists, Rothenberg has never been able to completely explain why birds sing and what their song means
to both avian and human ears. It is an aesthetic and scientific mystery. “There is music in nature and nature in
music. We can be immersed by both without needing to understand how the two are forever intertwined. It is
enough to know that they are,” Rothenberg writes.
Laurie Anderson’s debut album Big Science (1982) is minimalist and monochrome in sound.
Photo by the courtesy of Nonesuch Records.
Laurie Anderson: Let X=X
Closing the circle, the arbitrary title of Laurie Anderson’s track Let X=X from her avant-garde debut album Big
Science (1982) brings the words of John Cage to mind: “I love sounds just as they are, and they don’t have to
be anything more than they are. I don’t want them to be psychological, I don’t want a sound to pretend that it’s a
bucket, or that it’s a president, or that it’s in love with another sound. I just want it to be a sound.”
OK Do’s Fortune Cookie
By: Jenna Sutela
Photography: Paavo Lehtonen
Posted on November 29, 2010
John Maeda, the philosopher, designer, artist and educator, dispensed his wisdom through one to one
appointments at The Riflemaker Gallery in London on the occasion of his four-day live exhibition titled ’John
Maeda is The Fortune Cookie’ on November 16-19. Inspiring as Maeda has been for OK Do, it felt only
reasonable to book a consultation/confessional in order to examine the possible future of our practice.
“Knowledge can improve one’s intuition. The goal is to not let either overpower.”
Preparing for the ten-minute reading, the gallery visitors were asked to pick up a personally topical tweet from the
printed archives of Maeda’s Twitter philosophy. Each tweet could only be picked once. I went for:
Twitter
Mon Jan 11 11:26:22 +0000 2010
Edu Knowledge can improve one’s intuition. The goal is to not let either overpower.
Subscribers to the reading were also encouraged to think of a question for the oracle. Considering Maeda’s
reseach into the necessary role that artists and designers play in the 21st century creative economy, mine had to
do with career advice.
Visiting Maeda in his (physical) sandbox upstairs of the gallery was an interesting experience. Somewhere
between McKinsey Consulting on tour, self-help and Twitter of the real world, the event felt relevant and
meaningful. Drawing in the sand of his box, Maeda talked about art and science, the loneliness of working on
Skype, and the future of OK Do (based on a brief introduction). OK Do’s fortune cookie:
Live
Thu Nov 18 18:50 +0000 2010
”It’s good to write because people can read.”
Back to School series
Research Through Practice – Monitor MEMEX Founder Boy Vereecken on
Oeuvre and Design Education
By: Anna Mikkola
Introduction: Anni Puolakka and Jenna Sutela
Posted on January 17, 2011
While preparing a studio course for Aalto University in Helsinki, OK Do has been exploring new ways to teach
design. Rhe discipline’s increasing significance in society being indisputable, design faces a pressure to become
more critical and philosophical both about itself and the world around it. As a reaction, alternative design education
is emerging somewhere in between disciplines as well as at the borderlands of academic institutions and the
contemporary professional field – after all, changing the way we practice requires altering the ways of education.
Starting from Antwerp, where Anna Mikkola interviewed Boy Vereecken, the founder of Monitor MEMEX, Back to
School series sets out to review the most interesting manifestations of ‘the new school of design’.
Boy Vereecken in his studio at Sint Lucas College of Art. Photo courtesy of Marthe Prins.
Monitor MEMEX, a publishing platform established as part of Sint Lucas College of Art, Antwerp last autumn
caught my eye after our discussions with Jenna about the emerging models of design education. So, I met up
with its founder Boy Vereecken, a designer and advising researcher at Sint Lucas, to talk about the function of the
platform.
How did you come up with the idea to establish Monitor MEMEX?
Practicing both as a researcher and graphic designer at Sint Lucas, my task is to explore the contemporary
professional field in relation to the school. Consequently, one of the main motives for establishing Monitor
MEMEX was to encourage students to explore pragmatic ways of practicing research in the context of a design
department. Finding Sint Lucas quite fragmented, I felt that it was worthwhile to first create a comprehensive
structure, a new programme within the campus, and only after that move over to more specific research topics.
The idea was also to restructure the documentation and archiving of activities at the college as well as to
organise publishing and distribution in a way that would communicate with the outside world. In addition, the
platform covers everything from workshops to online publishing and facilitating collaboration between different
departments. It is my reaction to the challenges of Sint Lucas.
How can an academic institution benefit from this kind of an independent platform?
Through Monitor MEMEX, the academia can reflect on topics outside the institution and vice versa. The platform
is fundamentally more dynamic than rigid institutions, slowed down by their complex structures and large scale.
Thus, it offers the institution a just-in-time approach. The aim is to open up the institution by inviting people from
different fields – most of them outside the design context – to contribute and, through that, recreate the study
programme. Documenting and publishing these contributions, the platform compliments the institution not only as
a provider of “real-life” content but also as a distribution channel.
“Monitor MEMEX offers Sint Lucas College of Art a just-in-time
approach.”
In addition, Monitor MEMEX functions as an important intersection and common ground for collaborations
between different disciplines, because it is open for students from all departments: printing, fine art, jewellery
design, graphic design, advertising, etc. Often these kinds of collaborations take place through established roles
– the roles set by respective departments. However, working in a shared context and towards a shared aim leads
to the abolition of titles. As a result, the almost confrontational approaches as well as methodologies are forgotten,
and genuine collaboration can take place.
The Monitor MEMEX logo by Boy Vereecken.
Can you tell me a little bit more about how Monitor MEMEX works in practice?
Since the platform was founded only a few months ago, it is still taking its shape and the programme will appear
more structured in the next academic year. To begin with, lectures and screenings are organised around certain
topics, and interesting responses to these will be documented in publications.
What kind of research topics are, in your opinion, relevant in the context of design at present? Which
ones did you choose to tackle within the programme?
First of all, it is central to consider different ways of establishing one’s own practice – which methods to use, and
how to resolve certain things in the process. Building up one’s own body of work, oeuvre, contributes to personal
evolvement and the other way around. Thinking about one’s work as a long-term process is natural for artists and
researchers, but unfortunately rare in the field of design.
“Thinking about one’s work as a long-term process is natural
for artists and researchers, but unfortunately rare in the field of
design.”
The first Monitor MEMEX research topic was ‘What Does Research Mean in Design Practice?’. This was
discussed with two designers, Daniel van der Velden and David Bennewith, who both presented their approach to
design and research. One of the current topics is ‘New and Its Meaning at Present’; how to be progressive today.
Another topic is ‘Scenario Making’, which takes a look at the relationship between film and graphic design. ‘As
Found’ encourages students to use research and questioning as methods in their work.
Can you think of similar initiatives that would have inspired or functioned as models for Monitor MEMEX?
At present, there are some similar platforms, but their approach and motives are very different. Maybe the most
interesting example of all times is Black Mountain College that operated in North Carolina from 1933 to 1957
(often these types of initiatives seem to work because of their temporary nature). Quite a few prominent figures,
such as Josef Albers, came to teach at the college after Bauhaus closed down due to Nazi pressure. Therefore,
Black Mountain continued the Bauhaus legacy in many ways. The interaction between the academia and the
professional field – one of the best educational tools in my opinion, and something that I apply at Monitor MEMEX
– was central also at Black Mountain.
“The interaction between the academia and the professional field
is one of the best educational tools in my opinion.”
Vormat, the first Monitor MEMEX publication.
How would you describe your personal research methods?
I have been very interested in figuring out the meaning of oeuvre in relation to my own design practice: How can
a designer build on oeuvre? How can one’s practice reflect on itself in order to create something timeless? I hope
that whenever something that I have created leaves the studio – and to whatever context it arrives – it will speak
to things beside it as well as those before and after it. A guiding line, or a method in my work, is to picture how the
result will look like in ten years time and in different contexts. This keeps me motivated.
What kinds of methods do you use in your teaching?
The methods are very much influenced by the fact that instead of giving classes or assignments, I have
appointments with the Master students in the course of their final projects. The meetings are based on guiding
and reflection.
Can you give me an example of a workshop that you have given as well as explain the ways in which
research was part of it?
I usually introduce the students to design research through my own research-based projects. An example of this
was a workshop that I gave in Venice with Kasia Korczak. It dealt with information graphics, which is an area of
design that I am not particularly close to. However, by chance, we were working on a book consisting of quite a
few graphs. So, we showed the book in progress to the students and asked them to make questions about the
graphics and work with them, too. The aim was to find solutions to problems that we had while working on the
book. In the end, the workshop involved many discussions, and even though the results didn’t exactly fit for the
book in question (as I had wished for) they were much more interesting than I had expected. This experience also
reminded me of how discussion certainly plays an important role in workshops.
This brings to my mind the phrase “doing research by design”, which points out research being part of
the design process.
I definitely consider that an applicable approach. In the context of design, the tendency is to conceive research
and execution as separate entities. Students tend to be done with the research part when moving on to working
with visual means. The main aim of the platform is to encourage students to integrate research more profoundly
into their practice.
On the other hand, like you mentioned in the context of the info graphic workshop, design is traditionally
defined as problem solving. Does your approach relate to this kind of design thinking in general, or is it
something parallel to it?
This kind of an approach is necessary from the client’s point of view. On the contrary, I am interested in
questioning the content through the creation of a subtle conflict. Adding to the “necessary” problem solving, I
like to use my designs to open up the imagination. However, there are certainly many design practices based on
problem solving, and I do acknowledge as well as introduce them while teaching.
What kinds of projects are you currently working on at Monitor MEMEX?
Just recently, we finished a Master class on typography given by Karl Nawrot, an illustrator and type designer.
He has a strong oeuvre, and therefore I felt that it was worthwhile to introduce him to the students. Nawrot is
very aware of how he positions himself in the field. He manages to incorporate his rather artistic practice into
commissioned design projects so that both ends, the client and the designer, are content. Usually his projects
result in vivid typefaces that enhance the character of the commissions and, at the same time, are fulfilling for him
to work with. Nawrot’s secret lies in limitations that he sets for himself in the form of very particular models and
tools applied throughout his design process. And that is exactly what, for me, is even more valuable than the end
results – the way he carries out research through his practice.
Making Places series
The Solutions of Ingo Niermann
By: Martti Kalliala and Jenna Sutela
Photography: Adrian Parvulescu
Posted on November 19, 2010
In the process of writing a book presenting a series of better dreams for Finland, Martti Kalliala and Jenna Sutela
met up with Ingo Niermann, the editor and creator of the Solution book series published by Sternberg Press. The
Berlin-based writer and artist talked about not only the reformation of nations, but also the boundaries between
fiction and non-fiction, and his theory of the Drill.
Hello Ingo.
It all started in 2006 with Solutions 1-10: Umbauland (“Remodel Nation”), ten provokingly simple ideas
which would see Germany work it out after all, including a new grammar, a new political party, and the
Great Pyramid, the biggest building in the world which would serve as a democratic tomb for millions of
people. At the moment, there are already five Solution books, and more to come. How would you describe
the series and its overall premise? Why the nation?
Because the nation is so weak. Basically, in the Solution series authors are asked to develop an abundance of
compact and original ideas for countries and regions, contradicting the widely held assumption that, after the end
of socialism, human advancement is only possible through technology or requires a yet-to-be-established world
order.
“The Solution series contradicts the widely held assumption that
human advancement is only possible through technology or
requires a yet-to-be-established world order.”
Is authorship relevant to you in regards to the visions of Umbauland and Dubai Democracy?
I’m happy with just having the ideas, but they should have the potential to work. The books are like seeds. It’s
more up to others to put them into the soil. And just as actual seeds, they can remain seeds for quite a while.
You’re not interested in personally pursuing their realisation through, for instance, political means?
I had the idea to take one of the ten visions in Umbauland, the first Solution book on Germany, and try to promote
it myself. I chose The Great Pyramid – the idea of a mass tomb for potentially everyone – and did the project
mainly in collaboration with an entrepreneur, Jens Thiel. We organised an architectural competition, produced a
business plan, collaborated with an engineer who thought about how it could be realised, founded an association
to support it, and got everything documented on film. We got immense media attention and caused a big debate in
Germany, but it was difficult to take the next step. However, the project still exists.
In general, the more real the visions become the better. But my capacities are limited. I want to continue writing.
How it usually works when proposing a vision for a country is that you become the face of the vision, having one
key vision and sticking to it – promoting it for years and years. But this is boring for me.
Solution 186–195: Dubai Democracy by Ingo Niermann.
‘Strategic design’ and ‘design thinking’ have become buzzwords not only in business and industry but
also on a governmental level. How would you place the Solution series on this map, and where do you
think strategic design (or the Solution series) ends and politics begin?
‘Solution’ is a very common term in economics and there’s no problem with strategic design. But why not do these
things completely independently? When you’re not necessarily dependent on the realisation of your ideas, it’s
possible to choose a completely different rhetoric, a completely different language. Momus, for instance, wrote
short stories on Scotland [see Jenna’s interview with Momus]. And his forthcoming Japan book will be like a novel.
Tirdad Zolghadr’s book about America is largely an autobiography.
Who are the authors of the books in addition to the ones on Germany and Dubai, which you wrote
yourself?
They’re either friends or people who actually approached me. Momus got involved in The Great Pyramid project
by performing at The Great Pyramid gala. He asked me if he could contribute, and I immediately said yes. I mean,
I wouldn’t have dared to ask him myself.
What would you say is the role and meaning of being inside and looking out vs. outside and looking in
in terms of writing about your own home country or other nations like China or Dubai in your case? Or
maybe Scotland and Japan in Momus’ case.
Actually it doesn’t feel that much different – doing a book on Germany or one on Dubai. We had these discussions
with one of the contributors, Tirdad Zolghadr, because a friend of mine wanted to do a book on Afghanistan
and we wondered whether it would be neo-colonial if she as a German did that. But I think there should be no
restrictions. Everything works. I mean, Momus did a book on Scotland. He is from Scotland, but almost never
lived there. Still, there is a connection. Tirdad was also born in the US, but didn’t live there so long, except now
when he returned to teach there. His approach was more about looking at the biggest, the still most powerful
country in the world.
Ingo Niermann at home in Wedding, Berlin.
Going back to the question of genre. Is the boundary between fiction and non-fiction interesting or
relevant to you?
I’m a novelist, although most of the books that I publish are non-fiction. But the possibilities of making things up or
not making things up interest me. When you talk about the future, you don’t know where the boundary is. That’s
a nice thing. Usually novelists write about things in the past. Or they write science fiction. However, my idea as a
novelist creating the Solution series is that when you talk about the future it’s fiction per se.
“When you talk about the future, you don’t know where the
boundary between fiction and non-fiction is.”
And how has your work with the Solution series been received? Has it been perceived as “real”?
There has been a lot of questioning in relation to my work. For instance, we went to a village which we had
chosen as a possible place to build The Great Pyramid. Some people thought it was “Borat”. We were also given
some funding for the project by the German Cultural Foundation, but they wanted us to ensure that we didn’t
actually want the pyramid to become real. They liked the idea of keeping the piece in the framework of fiction and
culture as they are not allowed to support real-estate ventures.
Which nations are next on the list?
There will be a book on Japan, The Book of Japans by Momus. Starting again from Scotland, on Shetland Islands,
there’s a group of people who claim that they travelled to the future of Japan. They are twelve people, and they
are called The Idiots. Now experts have to judge whether their prophecies on the future of Japan are realistic.
Then there’s another one, The United States of Palestine-Israel. It’s an anthology with 19 solutions written by
many contributors and edited by Joshua Simon. It’s really interesting because the term ‘solution’ is very familiar
in the context of Palestine and Israel. People always talk about the two-state solution, but it’s actually a guarantor
of stagnation. And the book is all about opening up that discourse. It’s about questioning that solution and offering
an abundance of new ones from creating a multitude of states to that one and only, coming up with a common
myth for both Israelis and Palestinians. Some solutions evolve out of art projects and some from the perspective
of politicians.
What else are you working at the moment?
At the moment, I’m working on a long essay titled Drill, which will include elements of fiction. It’s as much about
my personal poetology, a way of understanding what I did so far and what keeps it together, as it is about the
fundamental practice of contemporary people in general. It’s something that already happens, but I’m projecting
it into the future. The Solution series is part of it, you’re part of it. I try not to do any less than understand the post
post modern state – something that people do, but they just don’t know it yet. There’s all this opening up and
crossing boundaries when you think of the last decades. And Drill could be the next step. It’s about limitations
that you give yourself. It’s the freedom to restrict yourself. Radical performance art from the 70s has been of great
inspiration to me when thinking about the Drill. In reverse, my concept of a Drill Palace inspired the performance
artist Marina Abramović to “drill” her live audience.
The Welfare Game, edited by Martti Kalliala and co-written with Jenna Sutela and Tuomas Toivonen will be
published by Sternberg Press in 2011.