The
Art of Conversation
was based on the intimate art of conversation. Living room furniture
was temporarily installed outdoors every Tuesday between 12:00 and 16:00
over a period of ten weeks during the Summer of 2000. Participants in
the conversations were those who came across the work accidently, those
who were directed toward it through word-of-mouth and publicity, and
invited visitors. This participatory process is a key component as the
work was not meant primarily as a viewing experience. In the deliberate
blurring of roles -- invoking a question of who is the audience and
who are the performers -- is a statement about the capacity for each
and every one of us to be history makers and authorizing agents of individual
and collective memory(ies). The domesticated setting was not simply
a stage or theatrical device, it served as the place/space where direct
embodied interaction and communication became possible. Conversations
touched an a number of central issues including trust and what happens
when it is broken, childhood memories and the way in which they play
their part in adult life, decision making and the notion of choice.
After
setting up my living room furniture on the street, I would engage with
passersby in conversations about home, belonging, family, the continuum
between private and public, domestic abuse and political terror, exile,
comfort, and anything else that was suggested, or came up. Often people
would bring objects from their own homes to decorate the
living (room) space. One woman who would frequent regularly, brought
a painting she had done and hung it on a nearby tree for the duration
of one sitting.
My
father joined the sitting one Tuesday and was visibly upset and uncomfortable
throughout his visit. When I asked him a few days later what was it
that disturbed him he told me of how sitting on the couch in the middle
of the street had triggered a memory that he had long ago forgotten.
When he was a little boy growing up in Russia, he was the one in his
family to be responsible for closing the curtains every Friday night
before his mother would bench licht (light the Sabbath candles). As
it was forbidden to openly practice any form of Jewish ritual, the consequences
of being caught were known to be quite severe.
Sitting
in the living room space created nearby the Metro Frontenac, he recalled
how one Friday night he had forgotten to attend to closing the curtains.
The lit candles were seen by a neighbor who promptly informed the local
authorities. My father, along with his parents and siblings, were then
evicted from their home and were not allowed to return for quite some
time. All of what they had was locked into the house leaving them no
access to any of their belongings. This is what was making him so uncomfortable
while he was sitting in the 'art of conversation' setting.
The
impact of this re-membering and the consequences of his telling have
been resonant and reverberant for us all. He has long carried his sense
of fear, guilt and anger around this incident without being aware of
how it has influenced and affected our own home as I was growing up
and still affected the home he shares with my mother. With this telling
something was able to shift.
It
is the nature of creativity to offer (sometimes unexpected), moments
of healing and connection. The art of conversation as a durational performative
intervention was a site for many such connections and discoveries.