Sunday, January 31, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
reel to reel (mashup)
Without making too much of the immediately apparent technological leap between reel to reel tapes and youtube video uploads (a leap somehow bridged no matter how tenuously by the thin shining metal strings of the çiftelia, the epileptic convulsions of iron particles spun into tape, the brushed metal casing of a camera purchased on holiday in Germany before being hitched to so many cables strung around couch legs and tacked along window frames, strung through tree branches into a gathering of powerlines, down the road past the mosque and underground: none of it possible without and all of it brought to you by spindly fractured wearing down webs of metal spun three times and packed in cardboard from earth it came and to the earth it shall return, but it still takes a metallic resonance to make any of this happen) there remains something particularly charming about these videos: a man holding a lens, or balancing it on the arm of the living room ottoman for four to seven minutes in order to duplicate/preserve/share/force upon us/grasp himself the echoing shadow of a few ghosts, aware of the decay setting in, the warp of heat disfiguring tapes like the bandages falling from mummies revealing only dust inside; these particular breath-holding cellphone-muting extended pauses could (really should) and will only happen for a few years (these few years) in our history as a people, some time after the computers are bought (more for our children than for ourselves) but only until anyone (that child in particular) has stopped caring about those dancing electrons and what they infer and so, in honor of this decade—the decade when Kosovars filmed their reel to reel tape machines, the decade we are more or less living in now and which will be gone soon enough—I give you, in tribute, the mashup:
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
happy holidays from ko-kosovo
* We strongly recommend you read the instructions for the Santa on the Dree before using.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
the garbage fire
While I was standing there, this Ashkalli or Roma boy came up and started kicking stuff around. Then he hid next to the fence and spent a few minutes peeking around the corner, waiting for someone who never showed up. He didn't seem to notice me.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
berlin emmigration
Roma refugees from Kosovo protesting their planned deportation. Potsdamer Platz.
Someone else. Kreuzberg.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
august 20, 2009
south mitro from the south
south mitro from the north
the castle
zvecan
unexplained dirt, 1
unexplained dirt, 2
unexplained dirt, 3
Thursday, July 9, 2009
wildlife / streetlife
Kittens and puppies are everywhere, every stray Mitrovica mother having birthed a Gemini.
The church on the south side is as empty as ever.
When cleaning the fountain, they return the fish to the river.
The church on the south side is as empty as ever.
When cleaning the fountain, they return the fish to the river.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
may 21, 2009
The major streets were closed to traffic. We took the turnabout near the bus station and parked in a lot close to the Rilindja building.
It was strange to see the streets so empty. We walked to the parliament building and took pictures of the banners.
Then we went for a coffee on UÇK Street.
We figured it was a good place to keep an eye on things.
A reporter friend called from the airport to say that he hadn’t landed yet. We couldn’t imagine that they would make him take the road from the airport, still under construction. They had only blocked off the road through Dragodan.
So we figured a helicopter would take him to the U.S. embassy and his motorcade would leave from there.
There were a number of billboards with his image on it, and the words “Welcome and Thank You.” Alternating U.S. and Kosovo flags were hung from all the lampposts. It was very quiet.
They let the children out of school and armed them with posters, and flags. We heard the children coming and knew that it must be time. We paid for our coffee and walked towards the parliament building.
I found a spot near the security gate. An old man asked me not to smoke. It was the first time anyone had ever asked me that.
The children were chanting and singing. Their teachers directed them to different areas alongside the road in order to insure that the entire route would be well populated.
Their signs said “Thank you,” “Peace” and “Welcome Mr. Biden.”
An old man worked the crowd with American and Albanian flags tied to the end of a thick pole, the handle of some farm tool.
There were only two or three Albanian flags in the whole place. It was the first time I had seen that.
A few groups of young dancers in traditional dress were placed at the edge of the road before the parliament building. A large band began playing on the square above us. The crowd sang and cheered.
Additional police positioned themselves between us and the road.
A midget wearing an American flag baseball cap danced in the middle of the road. Everyone cheered for him.
From the audience he brought out an old man in a white fez and a young dancer in costume. They stood next to him and clapped while he danced. The girl seemed uncomfortable though.
A few police cars sped down the road now and then.
Most of the crowd was under eighteen or over fifty. The vice president might think that everyone between 18 and 50 was dead.
The band stopped playing. A helicopter flew overhead.
We could see the lights of his motorcade underneath the trees at the end of the street, moving slower than the police that had preceded him.
He sat by himself in the back seat, facing away from me. He was waving and smiling, and he did this in a way that was more natural than one expects from a politician. But I know you’re not supposed to think such things about politicians.
He seemed like he genuinely appreciated the celebration. He pointed to the dancers and smiled.
The last security vehicle in his procession had a piece of paper taped to the window. The paper said “Straggler.”
An ambulance ended the procession in front the parliament gates. The gates were closed.
Most of us started drifting away. I followed some members of the band: a guitarist and the accordion player.
Some people gathered near the National Theater. They weren’t ready for the party to end.
They had nothing else planned for the whole day.
The police were having a great time, taking turns at breakneck speed through the empty streets.
A protest against his visit was held near the bridge. The vice president wasn’t going anywhere near Mitrovica.
Instead he was flown to Decani.
His helicopters flew overhead, identical and evenly spaced.
It was strange to see the streets so empty. We walked to the parliament building and took pictures of the banners.
Then we went for a coffee on UÇK Street.
We figured it was a good place to keep an eye on things.
A reporter friend called from the airport to say that he hadn’t landed yet. We couldn’t imagine that they would make him take the road from the airport, still under construction. They had only blocked off the road through Dragodan.
So we figured a helicopter would take him to the U.S. embassy and his motorcade would leave from there.
There were a number of billboards with his image on it, and the words “Welcome and Thank You.” Alternating U.S. and Kosovo flags were hung from all the lampposts. It was very quiet.
They let the children out of school and armed them with posters, and flags. We heard the children coming and knew that it must be time. We paid for our coffee and walked towards the parliament building.
I found a spot near the security gate. An old man asked me not to smoke. It was the first time anyone had ever asked me that.
The children were chanting and singing. Their teachers directed them to different areas alongside the road in order to insure that the entire route would be well populated.
Their signs said “Thank you,” “Peace” and “Welcome Mr. Biden.”
An old man worked the crowd with American and Albanian flags tied to the end of a thick pole, the handle of some farm tool.
There were only two or three Albanian flags in the whole place. It was the first time I had seen that.
A few groups of young dancers in traditional dress were placed at the edge of the road before the parliament building. A large band began playing on the square above us. The crowd sang and cheered.
Additional police positioned themselves between us and the road.
A midget wearing an American flag baseball cap danced in the middle of the road. Everyone cheered for him.
From the audience he brought out an old man in a white fez and a young dancer in costume. They stood next to him and clapped while he danced. The girl seemed uncomfortable though.
A few police cars sped down the road now and then.
Most of the crowd was under eighteen or over fifty. The vice president might think that everyone between 18 and 50 was dead.
The band stopped playing. A helicopter flew overhead.
We could see the lights of his motorcade underneath the trees at the end of the street, moving slower than the police that had preceded him.
He sat by himself in the back seat, facing away from me. He was waving and smiling, and he did this in a way that was more natural than one expects from a politician. But I know you’re not supposed to think such things about politicians.
He seemed like he genuinely appreciated the celebration. He pointed to the dancers and smiled.
The last security vehicle in his procession had a piece of paper taped to the window. The paper said “Straggler.”
An ambulance ended the procession in front the parliament gates. The gates were closed.
Most of us started drifting away. I followed some members of the band: a guitarist and the accordion player.
Some people gathered near the National Theater. They weren’t ready for the party to end.
They had nothing else planned for the whole day.
The police were having a great time, taking turns at breakneck speed through the empty streets.
A protest against his visit was held near the bridge. The vice president wasn’t going anywhere near Mitrovica.
Instead he was flown to Decani.
His helicopters flew overhead, identical and evenly spaced.
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