COVID-19: THE #QUARANTINEDIARY OF IRENE CAMPOLMI (1-45)
Since its outbreak the corona virus Covid-19 has changed the lives and daily routines of millions. As it spreads globally consequences for ourselves and our loved ones are inevitable. Our dear friend and brilliant curator Irene Campolmi had planned to fly back to Copenhagen yesterday after visiting her family in Tuscany, Italy, but those plans changed drastically when the country went into a national lockdown.
Now Irene – who (due to her curatorial practice) is accustomed to move freely across the globe – is stuck in a forced quarantine, with no idea of when things will return to normal. After Italy, Denmark was the second european country to experience a nationwide lockdown and even though we now have the prime ministers words for the seriousness of the matter, it can still be hard to fathom the extent of the pandemic. In this search for answers Irene’s beautifully written diary posts offer a sense of meaning.
When Irene started posting her #quaratinediary on Facebook, her words touched us deeply and what the mass media depicts as numbers and statistics, instantly became human. We need personal voices to describe the emotional impact of this unfamiliar condition, so thank you Irene for sharing yours. And thank you for letting us share your words here on idoart.dk.
This article will be updated along the way.
Last update: April 27, 10.05am.
Irene Campolmi.
#QUARANTINEDIARY BY IRENE CAMPOLMI
#1 March 10, 2020
Ok, friends around the world, I got a message for you:
You got to know me: I don't drink coffee 'cause I have got hyper energy since day 1 I was born; I am hyper positive, proactive and always eager to find solutions. Last weekend I came to Tuscany (not a red zone till last night) as planned for months to visit my family and my friends, and was supposed to go back to Copenhagen tomorrow, but all flights from Italy got cancelled until further notice. People cannot leave their municipality's borders.
Shops, restaurants, pubs, and any commercial activity is shut down from today until further notice. We are all part of a historical moment in which everyone has the agency to make a difference, by staying home and keep healthy. I am the #curatorlonelyplanet, but I am first and foremost a #citizen, and I have a #coscience. I will #Stayhome and won't be able to go back to DK until further notice. But I want to make history every day with my actions and my words. You globetrotters like me around the world, please stay safe.
Do make a good history that we will remember because you took precautions. Don't go to crowded places. Be concerned for you and your family, cause concern and fear are instinctual feelings that occur when we feel life threatened. Rather than just talk about agency, now the real change will be made by people who practice it.
From Irenes Instagram.
From Irenes Instagram.
#2 MARCH 12, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day2
This morning, I went grocery shopping at 7.30 am for my extended family. It made me feel useful, after so many years 'living abroad' to pursue a simple gesture for my mum, sister and grandma.
It was surreal but at the same time moving.
Everyone, no age excluded, was standing on an educated line, 2 m of distance one from each other, with masks and plastic gloves, in silence, mothers and daughters, fathers and sons. Nothing to say because... what should you say? Making fun of the situation doesn't seem appropriate. Being dramatic is not helping anyone. Getting angry is completely out-of-place.
How else should we react? Just living an emergency as a new routine, because noone knows how long this will last, when we will go back to 'normality'. We live waiting andco-existing with fear and uncertainty. I guess like our grandparents wherof all ages just waiting.
Because there's no place, appointment, or event we need to go to.
There's no urgent issue we need to solve.
Everyone, this morning, on the queue, seemed to realise, that there is no other, that because each of us is potentially a carrier or an infected, we need to act as we want other people to do. None of us is excluded. We are all in this together, we are not the same but we share the SAME CONDITION of uncertainty, need to love and being loved again, and desire to touch, smell, feel and move freely. This morning I looked into humanity's scared, concerned and yet fiery face standing on a queue as they would stand in front of an unknown future. We respect the rules because we want to write our future. There will be days in which we will joyfully appreciate the extraordinary beauty of having a 'usual day'.
#3 MARCH 12, 2020
#quarantinediary
#reflection
Read. Study. Try to understand and not just to go through the text.
We have time now. If we learn something new everyday we will be able to live these days and learn from them.
#huggingyouallfromdistance
#4 MARCH 12, 2020
#quarantinediary
#reflection
We who are searching desperately for hand sanitizers, plastic gloves and masks. We, who are looking into each other's faces without knowing when we'll see the end of this situation. My hope is that we will never consider in the future our fears and uncertainty any different from those who escape from war zones and conflicts of all kinds. We aren’t any different.
We are learning another way to live.
#learninganotherwaytolive
#5 MARCH 13, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day3
I took an early morning walk in the forest with all precautions (masks and self-certification in case the police stop me). It was so early that the streets would be almost desert or empty even in a normal circumstance. While I was walking alone in the mid of the Tuscan hills this morning, enjoying the silence, I unconsciously began signing the refrain softly:
…"It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right
I hope you had the time of your life"…
Now, I am not a big fan of Green Day, but this band has spelt out the soundtrack of my teenage days. My friends at that time had a music band and we used to meet every day in a garage to listen to them playing. In the moments before and after their jam session, we spent the time of our teenage life. We learnt how to love each other, trust, forgive, cheat, dream with the eye open, face our fears, support each other, cope with death. We learnt how to be a community in our small universe.
Those days, we were waiting for something to happen in our lives. We were waiting for the moment in which we would have had to decide what direction to take in our life and enter adulthood.
Today, those days feel like a metaphoric 'quarantine'. We were waiting to end an epoch of our life and face an unknown future, scary and yet also promising. It's not that different from the condition we are experiencing today, that's why I unconsciously thought of that song. These quarantine days are the prelude of another time of our lives. Like in our teenage, it's up to us to decide the people we want to become after this trauma.
#6 MARCH 13, 2020
#quarantinediary
#reflection
Dear art world,
Recently I have observed how we are all obsessed with letting people know what we do. We are fully immersed in the culture of announcements. We announce everything, from an opening, to a talk to a reading we have just done. We care that people know what we do, think and wish. In these emergency days, we are all obsessed to inform each other that whatever we had planned has been – unfortunately – cancelled till further notice.
Dear art world,
it's obvious, I mean.
But thanks for letting us know. Again.
When there's no more events to announce, or exhibitions to advertise, or new publications to promote… what's the art world about?
Well, I hope these days will be a lesson to experience what artistic and curatorial work is beyond the culture of announcement. If we let it be, we'll probably rediscover that vibrant, intimate passion for art that back in the days we didn't want to share with anyone.
#peaceandlove
#7 MARCH 13, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day3
#fact
It is only in these quarantine days that for the first time I REGRET living as a #singlelady.
#true
#8 MARCH 13, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day3
#fact
Denmark announced the closure of all the borders until April 13th
I don't know who is more desperate, if it’s myself or my mother having to live with me for another month. #ops
View from my childhood room. Private photo.
Pic from the grocery store.. The only in town.
Private photo.
#9 MARCH 14, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day4
There are no weekends, no different day (already!).
You make pizza to make the day feel like it's a Saturday and hold a group video chat with the friends in town, with whom you would have hang out for an Aperol spritz in other circumstances.
Today, it was a little different. The first rumour of new cases of 'corona' (cause it's less scary to call it like this) in town became official. In addition, the hospital in Poggibonsi has been converted into the second-largest regional hub to cure coronavirus' patients coming from the whole of Tuscany.
When we read appealing news from Northern Italy, I get scared. We learn that hospitals and morgues are congested, ICU is equipped in gyms and other available public spaces; doctors, nurses and volunteers face war-zone days, with the undermining risk of being infected. I feel more for them. At the same time, I think that Poggibonsi, like the rest of Italy, and indeed the world, is no different. I fear that what's happening there will also occur here, in this small town or in the region, to our families and friends.
This thought generates other thoughts.
These days are changing us, not because we are learning how to practice social distance or have social detox.
We have lost a bit of our naiveness.
Something is broken, and we won't be the same.
Even if the material world around us would look
the same, we will be different.
#whataweekend
#10 MARCH 15, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day5
Sunny day. 12/13 degrees.
Shorts, sneakers and sports gears.
Fitness class outdoor (rigorously in my mum's garden).
A lady on her late 70s or early 80s walks across the street (BTW - what are you doing around?!?) and suddenly exclaim:
"Oh, thank God! At least, we can still see some flesh these days!"
#scusa, she made my day.
#buonadomenica!
Private photo.
#11 MARCH 16, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day6
I can't already keep track of the days when I write the hashtag #dayX… Is it because mental time has a different duration than the time we capitalise?
Last night I was speaking with a friend in Copenhagen who had been living closely with a Covid-19 positive person over the past weeks. Another friend of mine, with whom I was supposed to be in the Azores together last week, had travelled from Porto to the Azores paradise just sitting a seat in front of a positive patient. These friends were so kind to me and cared about my health, sending daily messages to check that my family and myself were ok in infected Italy. I keep seeing friends around the world jumping on a plane to Montreal or LA or getting on a train to escape from quarantine in the city.
Excuse me, my dear friend, stop critiquing privileged people when you act as one of those. What makes you think that you are any different from the rest of us in quarantine, lockdown at home?
Yesterday, the sun was ironically shining on this dark historical moment. In my town, the streets were desert. But I saw pictures of people in Copenhagen crowding around Fællenparken, Hellerup, Dyrehavn and the Lakes. Even an article in @Politiken – the most respected newspaper – mentioned that it was ok to take walks and be outdoors with the right distance. If we all make the same assumptions, we'll get all crowded to the same places, and all the measurements have vanished.
Now, I am not anyone special, so give to my thoughts the importance you desire. But friends who keep travelling or are going out as if nothing's happening: What makes you think you are so 'different' from the rest? You are bodies – like those of any of us, Italians, Chinese, Iranians – you are carriers. Have you read Ursula Le Guin? I would recommend it.
The virus is in our body. We, tireless globetrotters who take a plane every week or ten days for work – thinking that our dedication and passion for our work makes us so different than those who travel for business trips… I wish we were so different from the rest, but we are not.
Stay in! You carry a virus. It could be that you are positive carriers of Covid-19, in some cases. In others, it could be that without knowing, you carry within you the disease typical of a 'western colonial attitude' that makes you feel different from the rest. Let's stop spreading both of these 21st century diseases. It's up to us.
#loveyou
#12 MARCH 19, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day7
Supermarket, 7.30 am.
Weekly grocery.
A long orderly queue of people wait for their turn. All wearing masks and gloves. We have all got the gravity of the situation.
Once we are in, people seem to forget what keeping the distance means. In the grocery shopping impetus, a man starts touching fresh zucchini without plastic gloves selecting the best. He even seems surprised when people around him take him up on what he's doing.
Did he forget what the rules are now? I don't think it's about having a short memory or repeating mistakes. It's a matter of but connecting emphatically with the situation we live. You can keep the distance and then touch food that everybody will eat with your hands.
Taking care of our gestures is a means to realise how powerful they are.
From Irenes Instagram.
Private photo.
#13 MARCH 19, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day8
I keep reading posts promoting #socialdistancing and I have the feeling we're getting a bit wrong. It's true, quarantine days might feel relaxing for some people, boring for others, long or super short, family time or an opportunity to work. Great, but please don't use the hashtag as the new #metoo and be at home but keep meeting a couple of friends or using no precautions when you go shopping. Can you understand how harmful everyone's naivety is? Today Italy registered 475 new coronavirus deaths in a day. These people won't be mourn. All funerals are suspended because it’s a social gathering, willingly or unwillingly. The number of deaths is so high that people don't even know if their friends are sick at the hospital or still healthy. In these historical times, we should not think about social distance but about the individual empathy through wich we are able to feel for the other. That's how we connect with our friends across the globe. That's how we could connect as citizens of a community.
#anotherwayofliving
Private photo.
#14 MARCH 19, 2020
#quarantineday
#day9
When I woke up this morning my 3 years-old niece told me that I am a REAL princess to her because I am blonde and wear my H&M golden skirt.
A posto, allora.
#BYETINDER
#fashionquarantine
From Irenes Instagram.
From Irenes Instagram.
#15 MARCH 21, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day10
(even if it's written on #day11 because time is becoming a mental state of being in a day, rather than a 24h structure to be organised).
Yesterday, I was shocked as many of us, watching the news and being informed of the latest statistics. Italy and Iran registered their highest number of deaths in a day, but every day we all seem to notice that the number continue increasing.
Italy lost 625 lives as the day ended. It seems like the bulletin of a war-zone. In an account of a nurse working in one of the Northern Italian hospitals (the region was not specified), I read that those people who are diagnosed positive with COVID-19 aren't any longer allowed to see their relatives. When their conditions get worse, a nurse brings them a tablet and calls their family and friends to let the patient see their beloved ones. For the last time.
I thought how uncomfortable is that. The same day, I used Skype and other social media to connect with colleagues and friends and to keep business running as usual. In a time where social media is used to convey other than a message, but function as spaces to live and die, the medium isn't anymore the message, especially when the message is and about death.
Yesterday, the Italian government imposed new restrictions, banning all outdoor activities, including outdoor walks (only in your street), while also closing parks, public squares and pedestrian areas. The message is clear. And yet, there are still people who NEED to move and leave their home.
I am not talking about those who think they need to go for a run. I am referring to those who work in a factory in the Milanese periphery or have their job at a front desk in a bank. Those people are still obliged to go to work if they don't want to loose their jobs and be among the unemployed people after this crisis. The question is why the industry doesn't see that production needs to stop cause it involves these lives to run?
What kind of ethics drive this careless production?
While nurses, doctors, volunteers are working incessantly risking their lives and that of their families to follow their work ethics, what ethics should enforce us in this uncertain historical moment?
Ethics is not a protocol to follow. Never as today the understanding of ethics is shaped by the circumstances – to re-phrase the French philosopher Alain Badiou. It is about understanding that right and wrong are ephemeral notions and we need to stay alerted to respond to their unexpected changes. Our ethical call today is to stay in, take a position through which we withdraw from the life we knew until 11 days ago, and renounce. Renounce to be active is the only way to being an activist.
As Franco Bifo Berardi wrote in a recent diary: "The point is not how lethal the virus is. The effect of the virus is not linked to the number of people it kills. The effect of the virus lies in the relational paralysis it is spreading.”
In this paralysis, we live, work, chat, chill, party, hang-out, dance, cook, love and, yes, die online. Strange times, I know. I hope we will tell each other about it in the future.
#learningtoliveanotherlife
#imissyoufriends
Private photo.
#16 MARCH 21, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day11
Trying to keep the spirit up and moving the body.
#fashionhikes are banned.
I am reinventing the business.
Giving fitness classes with water bottles as weights for myself and the neighbours. In the garden every morning at 11.30 am. Late show up is allowed. Thanks to my niece for lending me her tunnel, it feels like a real triathlon. #truestory
#17 MARCH 22, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day12
My mum and her family of friends have been having daily calls (twice) for two weeks now: at 18.30 and 21.30. At 18.30, they call each other to check the numbers of the epidemic in Italy. They compare the numbers related to the contagion (infected, dead, healed and positive with no symptoms).
This data is announced live at 18.00 on national TV. They are all professors in mathematics, researchers, advisors, mechanic engineers, physics. They spend an hour every day to make mathematic algorithm to calculate when we will reach the acme of the contagion and can begin to see the end of this nightmare. Last week they estimated that it will happen by the end of March, but since the numbers kept changing and increasing every day they had to redo the calculations of the algorithm three times.
You can barely imagine the mood of those conversations where every day it becomes evident that sooner or later everyone will be infected and either be sick, be the lucky one without symptoms or…
They say bye to each other in a sad, gloomy and very concerned tone. It's scary to think that they and we won't be excluded from this disease, in some way or another. Then, at 21.30, they reconvene on Skype and for an hour, they talk about daily routines – about cooking, cleaning the kitchen, watching after their nephews, chatting from the window with their neighbours etc. – and what they think about. They laugh loud at jokes and funny stories. They try to forget – or maybe, in a more stoic manner, they find their way to co-exist with the threat of the disease.
That's what living in these times feels like.
Not hanging in there, just being with it.
#takecare
#missyouall
#18 MARCH 23, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day13
Since the western world has chased its hyperactivity (and with that, we, the generation of globetrotters) my head has been overwhelmed by thoughts about the future, reflections about the present – and questions, loads of questions. I read an article from MIT Tech Lab saying that the pandemic will obviously mark a before and an after, that we won't be able to pursue the life we did before. I have a drive, and it's to ignite thinking through writing but mainly through experiences and encounters with artists and their work.
The power of artworks doesn't rely on their origins but on the mechanisms they are capable to activate in the world. So, even though we might not get back to crowded museums and gallery openings, biennials and Documenta previews, I am full of hope that we will be able – as an art community – to imagine another art world, since the one we have grown up with was inherited but not really chosen or critically negated.
While I enjoyed spending time with my readings and my thinking (mainly it has become my primary way to burn caloroies these days!), I remembered a sentence by Rosi Braidotti which gave so much sense to me these days:
"Thinking is the stuff of the world, the power of embodied subjects to express with joyful affirmation what we are capable of becoming, the virtual. (...) it's our contribution to feel part of a multitude."
#sendingthebestvibes
#thinkingisbeingamultitude
#19 MARCH 25, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day14 (written in #day15 already)
Tuesday has become our family day for weekly grocery shopping. It’s not a nice experience because after waiting 45-50 minutes in an ordered queue, you enter into the supermarket and it’s a chaos because it’s even more crowded than it should be and you have to shop for a week, while carefully avoiding crowded spots along the food sections. But you make it a tour anyway and put your mascara on, cause you know your only weekly flirt is the one with the young cashier at the supermarket.
#truestory
#20 MARCH 25, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day15
After two weeks, the last three days have registered a decrease in the number of infected people. It's true, but still a high number of deaths (724 yesterday and 683 today). The numbers are still impressive, and even if they might tell that we are close to reach the acme of the pandemic… the numbers might only refer to the Northern regions in which the quarantine/forced isolation began on February 23… If the Northern regions will see the end of this tragedy, other regions might soon experience the beginning of the end, unfortunately. In these days, our feelings feed our thinking. Because we feel insecure, suspended, misplaced and afraid – for ourselves, our family, our friends and our jobs, we are more than ever incapable of distinguishing between fiction and reality.
Among the many news that circulated today (and that Italian politicians like Salvini from Lega Nord stupidly re-tweeted on his account) there is one saying that Covid-19 is actually a virus 'made in China' as the result of a genetically modified virus. The Italian virologist Burioni (the first scientist who in January warned about the danger represented by this virus) wrote back on social media that this was fake news.
To those asking whether he would put his hand on fire to ensure his assumption, he replied "Instead of asking me to put my hand on the fire, try putting your head in a book, then let me know if it worked."
Ecco. Now that we have time to read carefully the news, a book or an article, may we also have time to rationally and not instinctively think about what we read. Also, may we verify the source of our information as we unpack, analyse and understand what we read? Many do, but many don't. And those who don't just re-post what they read to spread the news, fostering this economics of feelings that today is regulated by feelings of scare and uncertainty. We don't need that. We need to take care of those we love, those who suffer or are in difficulty in these times, those who need our help (parents, neighbours, friends) and be a community which construct its own truth. We don't need any conspiracy theory, cause the whole internet or searching engines are regulated by algorithms that are based on power structures and money. So let's concentrate our energies on keeping up with the present and get ready for the future.
#thinkingfeelings
#21 MARCH 26, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day16
My mum’s chat with her friends at 18.00 was longer but a little lighter than usual. None of them wanted to comment todays' bulletin numbers, which were better than yesterday as wished: 4492 more infected people than yesterday (in Italy, not to mention the US, Spain and UK), 712 deaths and 999 healed. They were talking about the life after corona, and the fact that many of them, all in their mid sixties, would have to keep living in a quarantine status to escape the threat of the virus as long as possible.
At some point, I heard her proposing to the group that to keep each other safe for the months following the quarantine they should only go out to visit each other and play 'burraco' (a card game they are obsessed with) at each others homes. I heard this while I was cooking, and smiled.
…
There is a beginning for everything – I reflected later: a cry, a smile, a laugh, a concern, a fear, a love story, a friendship, a nightmare… everything. That beginning, that moment in one's story, will – at some point – become the point of departure for a new life after a drastic event.
I realised that her friends represent a 'beginning'. How to blame her?
When my father died, her friends became family. They were present in our life every day, even if I was globetrotting around the world. They never let us think we were alone in dealing with that. So, we felt they could help us start a life again without him, in another form we hadn't chosen nor ever imagined.
It worked out, more or less.
So today, when I was thinking about their conversation, I thought how powerful and full of hope any beginning is. And in a moment in which nobody knows when life after this tragic episode in history will start, I looked into my beginnings, and felt recharged.
#anewbeginning
Thanks to Gianluca Fantacci for the inspiration.
#friendsareeverything
#22 MARCH 27, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day17
969 lifes passed away today. Pope Francis did his first pray in front of an empty San Peter's Square. History happens for the first time in ways we haven't seen before. Still, people around the world, in shock, are connected more than ever emphatically because they share the same conditions of waiting, fear, uncertainty and hope. While Pope Francesco was giving his blessings to the believers, my mum stopped the Skype call at 18.30 to tell her friends she wanted to be blessed too. “When have you started believing?" I asked her while she stared at the Pope on TV. "I haven't, but in these times, nobody knows if it could work somehow". …
Belief empowers people with hope, somehow – I thought – regardless of their nature. We are all, in different ways, improvised believers.
#mayyouliveininterestingtimes
#rugoffprophecy
#23 MARCH 28, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day18
I haven't danced as much as in the past ten days. I mean, it took me a good amount of years to gain the reputation of dancing queen at openings, birthdays and whatsoever parties.
That's one kind of dance. The one that is generated by the energy of music and the euphoric proximity to another body, a floor, a context. This kind of dance is the statement of our body. It tells about our confidence with it because we are aware that someone could be watching us. It’s the kind of dance that helps us articulate how we have accepted the way we look physically but also informs us what the body can actually do.
Then, there is the dance you do alone, in your room, where and when nobody see you. It's the kind of dance that exists only outside social conventions of movement. Nobody's watching. It's a dance that cannot be and shouldn't be choreographed. It's liberating and it's not a simple movement or a means to activate the body like a run could do. It's a form of dance that is unique every time it’s performed. It's dance at its molecular status. It's a creation. It's improvisation. It's a series of new gestures that helps us inhabiting the world differently. When I finished my session today, I thought of how joyful it was to dance again after so many years and the words of Pina Bausch came to my mind: “I'm not so interested in how they move as in what moves them".
#whenattitudesbecomeform
#24 MARCH 30, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day19
Mum ran a marathon this weekend to install all kinds of social platforms on her laptop: we-school, Facebook, zoom, TeamViewer. At some point she turned to me and exclaimed: "You know that when I connect to TeamViewer someone on some other side can enter and navigate in my desktop freely?"
"Yes, I know."
Mum again: "Scary… and what’s even more scary is that I was just talking about surgical masks on the phone and afterwards ads appeared on the Google page all the time. How could they hear me?"
Me: "Mum, have you ever asked yourself why Google is the main search engine, why it's free and why your android smartphone costs peanuts? You are a trained mathematician, do your maths and you will get why."
(silence)…
Mum: "I am astounded. I now learn that we are controlled. That we are living under the siege of a pandemic. I haven't gone out in a month (true, cause she doesn't even go to the grocery store) and I have to cook every day whereas I love going to the restaurant for the pleasure of chatting with friends. Also, I know it sounds stupid, but I miss my coffee at the bar with my colleagues from the school." Bha!
No mum, it's not stupid. It's those daily conversations that life is also made of. And for me, these conversations are the ones I am having with you in this quarantine. I love you.
#iwontcomplain
#routines
#25 MARCH 31, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day20
It feels like it's been years since I haven't had time for a call, an email, a message. Now, I spend my days without looking at the clock and following my own rhythm. Today, I spent 5 hours on the phone with friends.
The first conversation was with another friend who's single like me and living with her parents during the quarantine: I leave you imagining the minutes of our discourses. Second conversation was with another good friend, who's pregnant and very much into energy therapy. We talked about balls that activate positive energy in times of globalised darkness (cause that's the consequence of globalisation as well). Loved it, because I have never believed in it, but she's so enthusiastic about it that she has the force to influence me, and I like to be moulded by her enthusiam.
Third conversation was with an old friend and now a colleague in the arts, with whom I studied at the University. We talked about the role of our generation in rolling up our sleeves and getting ready to think about an art world that needs to acknowledge a crisis in which people die for an invisible agent – and those who survive have no money to pay rent and food. What kind of art would make sense in the post-pandemic crisis society? No answers yet, but a lot of reflections.
At some point, he tells me: "You know, the most important thing is to be enthusiastic about what we do, it's about being able to be contagious and use the strategy of the virus to silently but strongly entering into people’s life. I mean, the comparison is strong, but you get what I mean."
I get it, totally. I hung up and looked at my shelf of books from the Classic Lyceum. Enthusiasm has its own origin: 'enthusiasmos' from Greek and means "possessed by the god, the spirit".
Enthusiasmos was the feeling of being possessed by the wine during the symposium in Ancient Greece, for example. And yet, it's the same enthusiasm we have when we talk with friends, colleagues or strangers about our last or next show, our last written essay, reading, podcast or edited catalogue, production, or simply our last idea. We're possessed by a spirit, a desire and an eagerness to see something come into life, to be the agent and engine for something else through our passion for the arts.
Now, we don't know how long it will take us to be out of this emergency – socially, economically and politically speaking – but we know it will end, which is the engine to restart the machine.
#learninganotherwayofliving.
#26 MARCH 31, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day21
Tuesday morning. Grocery day.
Mascara on, cause the lipstick is useless with the mask.
After 40 minutes of queues, you have 1 hour of shopping. Then you look around to find 'your' cashier flirt. Finally, it's your turn, you arrive, thinking about the small conversation you can begin. And… nothing. And it’s not even a joyful thing (in Italian we say "MAI UNA GIOIA").
He's evidently flirting with the young blonde cashier opposite to him. Not every thing is the same in times of emergency and crisis. But flirts' flops yes, they are exactly the same. 🙂
#truestory
#27 APRIL 1, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day22
It's night, it's my birthday and I would never let this day go. I spent the day talking with friends around the world, discussing how the pandemic threat, the lockdown, the change of habits and routines have had an impact on our lives and ways of thinking new imaginaries.
We talked about that we seem to lack a sense of working class in the art world, or maybe we have it but we can't verbalize it. We admit that we aspire to be part of yet another realm, that can’t even imagine how we live love and struggle, to keep doing what we do.
Do we lack a sense of belonging in the art world? If so, this is evident when we realize that we can't imagine how a union for artists and curators would look like. It seems to me that to support each other these days, all the love and empathy is reduced to likes, 🔥 and 😍 on social media.
Is it impossible to imagine some kind of structure that is desperately needed for – practically – creating a community? If so, then we must deduce that we lack the content to reflect about it.
I might sound banal. Perhaps you can point the finger at the time I spend daily with my high school books on ancient Greek and Latin languages. But the etymology of 'CONTENT' is to hold together (cum-tengo).
These times of lockdown should be about content. They should be about holding up together. We're collecting the pieces of us, we're thinking about the role we want to embrace after this crisis, we're reevaluating priorities.
We're creating content, at least I want to think we are doing that.
Instead of dispersing energies, traveling around the world, spending time on social media, trying to catch that opportunity, to schedule that coffee meeting, or to tick the box of another group show, we are forced to hold together these energies to think of new content.
Birthdays in general are weird because, way more than new years eve, they force us to listen to the feeling of time passing within our bodies. But when you fill the birthday with the CONTENT of the life you have lived and the one you imagine to be shaping, it feels right.
#content
#anotherwayofliving
#28 APRIL 3, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day23 (Written in #day24)
On April 1st it was my birthday, and I decided to spend the day in front of a screen to connect with friends around the world. It was good but also alienating cause my day seemed so short even though I chatted until 2am.
Yesterday, I got back to my quarantine routine of reading, writing, emailing, doing fitness classes and so on. And it felt like a Monday. I hope the comparison gives the picture. Btw, thank you so much for your messages, calls and thoughts. We'll celebrate life everyday after this, and we should find ways to start doing it from today. #loveyouall
#29 APRIL 3, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day24
Today I was thinking (thanks to a chat I had with with Helene Nymann) why in these moments we bring back hashtag challenges that aren't challenging anyone except ourselves. I asked myself what's the role of our past in a timeless and eventless present. It's a way to fill in an empty feeling. It's a way to see that we have been in different places in life, with our bodies and out minds. Since our bodies can't move, our brain can't distinguish experiences and feelings as structured as they would be in a 24h day. But we are living anyway, even when it's difficult to distinguish what it is that makes us feel ALIVE. Two days ago, I felt alive, because a feeling hurt my body. It was the pain that made me feel alive. It was the pain of learning about a close death. My best friend's dad died, and none of her friends could be with her. None of us could even show up close to her. The only thing that I wanted to do was to be with her, hug her, and makes her feel and see my presence. But I couldn't, and the impossibility of fulfilling this physical impulse hurt like a wound. Perhaps this painful feeling has been the only one that I’ve really felt strongly over the past 24 days… and will likely feel during this quarantine. How weird is memory…
#mayyouleavininterestingtimes
xxx
#30 APRIL 5, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day25 & #day26
I can't stop thinking. Flavia asked me to send her one word describing these times, and I gave her: THINKING. My mind is searching for the stimuli that my body can't have, more than usual. I am thinking about every idea that came to my mind while travelling in the past month, but didn't give space or time to develop. I am thinking about every other alternative I imagined for my life, but decided not to take. I am thinking about the many Irenes I have been up until now, and I feel I will be able to reinvent myself. I think about time – as a whole and as a glimpse, a second, a breath.
I think to feel alive.
While writing to Lumi today, our conversation made me think that I am now thinking as I would be travelling. I feel an eagerness that is bigger than what I have ever expected. I know, I am a privileged because for now I am spending my quarantine in my mum's home and I am not yet anxious about what my 2020 will look like. Perhaps a year without a salary (cit. Dehlia).
Still, what I can't stop thinking about is how can I slowly and subtlety escape the structures of thoughts I have made mine until today. What perhaps makes me alive the most is how I imagine my (our) role after the peak of this crisis… I have no answers right now, but this thinking is for me a healthy way to travel anyway. It's like when you decide to leave behind a place or a relation and move into something else.
You do it because you are driven by an existential doubt, questions or desire to turn your life into something more meaningful. You do it because you cannot find answers in the present, there, where you are. Those questions, doubts, or desires are so pervasive that they force you to be in movement.
By leaving them behind, you don't necessarily find a way to fulfil the gap that those questions, doubts and desires once were animating. But certainly, while you move onto something else, you encounter new questions, people, doubts, moments of happiness and sorrow. You attenuate the urgency of the initial questions and find ways to co-exist with them. Maybe, at some point, when you stop searching, answers become clear. I feel the same way with my thoughts. I feel that they are leading me out of here, but somewhere new.
#outofhere
#31 APRIL 7, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day27 (written in day#28)
Shit, we don't have time. Even now, that we are confined in our houses the whole day. What are we doing with this time? We have been in this situation for a month now. Yet, we feel that time slips on us everyday, and carries us from a day to another without feeling we accomplished something.
Certainly, we do things slower. We work slower, we cook slower, we walk slower. Yes, it's true. Some might say that days are busy because we are still working online. Those who have never worked as a 24h freelancer, might feel they are spending more time on their job's duty.
Welcome in the club, I'd like to say, but it might sound cynical. If we are lucky enough to be able to work online, teach online classes, take that Skype, Zoom, Facebook or webinar meeting, we keep our days busy and our mental status healthy. We are privileged for this. Keeping mentally or physically busy is a way we know how to keep healthy. But being busy should not only be understood in its neoliberal connotation.
Most of us living in a 'comfortable' quarantine are able to cook our meals, watch films, read books, go for walks, talk with friends. (Lucky you if you can, I don't have dogs so I am literally BORROWING MY NIECE for a tour around the neighbourhood since that's the only thing allowed by the Italian government!) I don't think that we are busier than before. Being busy, tired or energised are mental conditions. Being busy (thinking, doing something, being with someone) is a mean to articulate time within a day – and day by day – our life. What's time if it’s not energy processed and gradually put into the world? I will never say, I have no time anymore.
…rather be prepared for that… eheh
#learnigntoliveanotherlife
#noexcusesanymore #ormaybejustsometimes…
#32 APRIL 7, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day28
I have hated the size of this town throughout my teenage years. I have felt uncomfortable to come back even for a visit for the past 14 years. It always felt too small and empty of opportunities for the dimension and scope of my dreams and ambitions. I've called home the city I was living in – not where I was born. And now that I have to stay and look at you every day, your size feels kind of protective, like when you feel at home.
Ciao Poggibonsi. Xx.
Private photo.
#33 APRIL 10, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day31 (will write #day29 & #day30)
Grocery day.
Oddio.
Trial 1: I went on Maundy Thursday yesterday, and there was a queue occupying the whole supermarket's parking lot. Ok, I thought. I can go tomorrow instead.
Trial 2: I went again this morning very early. The supermarket was not even open but the queue was longer than yesterday. Jesu! I thought – I'll try later.
Came back home, and told my mum that the queue was still so long that I decided to postpone the effort of the queue to a later time in the day.
My mum answered: "Going to the grocery store seems for you like submitting your PhD-thesis, you always get so close, yet you don't do it."
Ecco, thanks mum. Thanks for telling me the cruelest truth. Wasn't it that Easter we were all good with each other? Ah, no, that was Christmas.
Anyway, happy easter, then. :)
#grocery
#atsomepointitwillhappen
#34 APRIL 10, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day29
Mum is Zooming with a couple of teachers from her school. She directs a school complex in the town where I was born. At some point, a hotline advertisement pops up in the middle of the conversation and one of the teachers starts screaming "Oh my God! Oh, my God!"
The conversation becomes a little frenzied, and my mum very calmly says "Please, Mrs......, be quiet. There's nothing to be shocked about. We can continue the conversation even with these images around, right? It's not the end of the world, especially in these circumstances, where this platform is the only means we can use to communicate". Hero, I thought. But also, my mum never spoke with me about sexuality, never. So I was pretty impressed.
#bho
#truestory
#35 APRIL 14, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day34 (written in #day35)
(missed days were holidays, more family time, less time to write. Maybe I'll update the thoughts I had). Day 34?!?! Already?!
Already, yes. We have been in the lockdown for more than a month, and some days I realise how the time we spend alone is healthy, but the too-much-time we spend alone without any interaction with a human being makes us ugly. We become almost incapable (maybe insecure) to articulate our thoughts and opinions but also to show up decent attention to someone else's words on a web call. True. Then I thought how way-too-much-time in social contexts also makes us ugly, on another level. Especially in work contexts, where the overwhelming time occupied in our lives by social work gatherings makes us dependent on our 'work-persona' and the role we have in the context we operate in. In these days, talking with some artsy-friends and colleagues, I reflected on what WE as curators and artists could do next. We came from non wealthy, artsy families but with the strongest drive of expressing our political existential thoughts through something called 'art'.
We grew up finding a way to inhabit the 'old' artworld, where the personal network made of sincere relations developed through high consideration for colleagues (that eventually will become friends) was the base; where being invited to that dinner would mark a crucial step in our career path; where going to that private preview would let us meet certain people.
I mean, I have nothing against the art world I was born in to, because in the past years, I felt at home, welcomed and supported. Even if it's hard to get projects done every day, to get paid for your work, to turn ideas into projects, to get rid of the prejudice people have on you and your artistic work you would like to do your work and so on and so forth.
I enjoyed it knowing that, regardless of the fact that my education or family background, my skin colour and the geopolitical context I was born into would make me appear as a fuc...g privileged in a world of privileged people.
The point is that the event network we loved will change for some time, and perhaps all those expensive dinners we loved to go to could be used by the galleries to cover some other expenses related to the artists, or texts written by the curators for the catalogues. Perhaps this will turn into an opportunity to reevaluate what career means in the so call "art-world". I am saying, why are certain events marking the entrance or the exclusion from the art world? Who's deciding who's in and who's out? And mostly, if sociality in the art world will be cut, how are we nourishing a community (and also, who's in it) stably? Food for thought. Xx.
#36 APRIL 14, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day35
Prepping for a virtual class at #CooperUnion on time-based artistic practice invited by James Sprang. Recently, I have been thinking of how performance necessitates the flesh of bodies – bodies that touch the ground, bodies that touch each other, bodies that breathe and whose breath becomes the clock that measure the passing of time, bodies that look at other bodies who are staring, watching, encapsulating energy, and that by silently being there, returns to the bodies of the performers as another sort of energy.
Many of us have grown up with a passion for performance and whatever enters into the definition of 'performative arts'. But I must say that in the past five/four years – after we queued for Anne Imhof's performance at the Venice Biennial or Alexandra Pirici's in the town hall of Münster – those who were less familiar with performance began changing their understanding of durational performance. We have been left speechless, measuring the weight of our bodies, while watching or experiencing (what's the right word to use?) another form of life developing in a time-space isolated capsule. We have begun to rethink performance NOT AS AN EVENT to attend but a situation, a state to inhabit somehow waiting while being alert to listen, watching and experiencing what happens differently. Still haven't found an institution that wants to work with me on performance in such a way, but I am sure I will.
Performance today somehow offers us a means to exercise our ability to pay attention to the life that unfolds around us. The life that, usually, we see and avoid passing through, if we don't feel it matters to us in that specific moment. Performance will begin again. Not in the way we knew it, aka, bodies on top of bodies, and bodies in front of other bodies, but in other ways. We will explore new ways to perform a new sociality – the one we will live in, where touch, presence and breath will be understood differently.
I believe that now more than ever, performance and those artistic researches based on performing arts will become a platform where to watch, experience and perhaps learn new CHOREOGRAPHIES on how to live together.
#performance
#anotherwayofliving
#anotherchoreography
#37 APRIL 17, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day36 (written in #day38)
It's interesting to hear how exotic you might appear to your closest relative, your mum. In the 18.30 call (which has now replaced also the one at 21.00, cause otherwise 'we alway tell each other the same things') I heard my mum speaking about me in the most esoteric manner. "She eats early, like the Nordics, you know. And she cooks a coffer of veggies, a lot! And then she always adds the same ingredient, this green fruit, I think it's called avocado.
…I don't like it. It doesn't have any taste. Have you tasted it?” She asks someone else on the other side of the Zoom call.
…I smile. An hour later, when I am cooking, she asks: "I want to try that thing you do for lunch, what's it called, avocado...?" "Avocado toast", I add.
"Yes, the green slob” (si, dai, quella sbobba verde – translated).
"Ok, next time".
…
When I went to bed that night, I recalled this conversation and smiled of joy thinking how beautiful and rich it is to live together and cross-contaminate each other's diversities. #diversityisreality
#38 APRIL 17, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day37 (written in #day38)
It's almost fourty days (quadrant in Italian) in quarantine. Days have their rhythm, their duration and breath. I get excited like a kid to think and dream of future shows, trips, dinners, get togethers with friends and yes, also studio visits, hikes (rigorously #fashionhikes) and more of those moments I used to call "my life"). When I have these thoughts, I almost feel guilty and anxious of willing to go back to my former life, the only one I used to know.
Eventhough I can't picture the future, I certainly know that I want to keep this awareness towards life – that I feel strongly now – into my 'next life'.
What do I mean with next life? There are moments in life which trace a threshold between ways of living. To some people, this happen when they break up a relationship, or when they have kids, or move into a new life.
To me, it happened six years ago, when I had a bike accident that forced me to stay in bed with no movement allowed for two months. After I recovered, I had to follow nearly 5 months of slow rehab and go around in a wheelchair.
The world looks different from the seat of a wheelchair. People look at you differently. That moment became a wound, a mark defining a moment of no return to the previous life. A break between the life before and the life after.
The hyper-active and hyper-positive Irene I have become is the response I developed to the life I had almost lost. That injury became a moment to re-evaluate life's priorities, to appreciate love and its precocity, to treasure but also nourish friendships and to live every moment of life intensively.
Thinking about that moment and how I overcame it, made me feel confident that I will find my way to keep this post-pandemic awareness vivid in my life.
Take care people. See you on the other side!
#learninganotherwayofliving
#39 APRIL 20, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day38 & #day39 (written in #day40)
Two days ago, I realised that it was the date in which last year I left Copenhagen, knowing that I will be travelling for three months. Three months became four, then five, and then 10, then a year. You know, like this quarantine lockdown: time kept being extended deadline after deadline.
The point is that for the months I had my place in Copenhagen, I would transit through my place just to sleep, not even to cook a meal. My fridge became renowned for being totally empty, except for a bottle of Aperol and two of Prosecco. Not kidding. When in September I began globetrotting, I had NO HOME. In some ways, that was one of the most liberating moments of my life, but also a very unstable one.
The point is that I had completely forgot what living in a neighbourhood meant. Or rather, I forgot what being in an Italian neighbourhood implied. In six years in Copenhagen it only happen to me to chat with a couple of people living in our building when there were communal Sunday works in-da-house. These days in little Poggibonsi, I observe everyday humanity in its sweetest, funny and yet almost moving way. Everyone has their own quarantine routine, and everyone walks in the 200m nearby their house at the same time everyday. Everyone looks out of the window at the same time of the day. Everyone goes out to throw the garbage only when they hear that someone else is also in the street so they can have a chat.
Everyday, at 6pm they create the funniest situation: they all meet 4m apart, some people in the street, others from the balconies, and chat for a good 15-20 minutes. The thing is that most of them have seen each other's for ages, but never talked. And now, after two months, they seem talking like kinda friends. Now, I realise why my friends around the world are so fascinated by Italy and Italians, cause they have a sort of natural inclination to sociality- for better or worse.
Me in this picture? I am the Nordic who does yoga/pilates/fitness in the garden everyday early afternoon, who's working with windows open and an arm dangling out of her window just to get a little tan while working. Time to time, I look out of the window to check upon the neighbours and see what they do, and obviously, if they see me, I have a small chat.
Sometimes I have thought to myself if I am the one observing them in the street, or if they are the ones observing me from there. You know, like Daniel Pennac wrote: "We think we are walking our dogs, but they are walking us while we take time to think". Ecco, this is to say that this quarantine neighbourhood is a curious, colourful mixture of interesting, good humans.
#neighbourhood
#40 APRIL 20, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day40
Talking about neighbours, I have one who wins the first prize for model citizen. The neighbourhood calls it "Il Ciclista" (The cyclist). Not that he does it professionally, but cycling has become his profession during this quarantine. We live up on a hill but regardless of that, he spends the whole morning biking up and down for God knows how many times (yesterday I counted 17, then I stopped). He goes on a bike tour respecting the limit of the '300m from home’. "Cioé, tanto di cappello" – we would say in Italian.
Remarkable, in our koinè.
Not just for the civic sense that he demonstrates, but for the fact that his workout totally beats in sweat and burned calories my daily fitness class.
#ilciclista
#41 APRIL 25, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day41 & #day42 (all written in #day44)
In the past days, I was preparing for some guest lectures at #CooperUnion and #SAIC School of Art Institute Chicago, and I re-read some crucial texts that has been inspirational for my research. One of these are "Washing Whiteness in Art Institutions" published on e-flux by Nataša Petrešin Bachelez. While reflecting on decolonial feminist approaches within institutional thinking, Petrešin Bachelez collects female voices and examples of 'horizontal (vs vertical) ways of curating, collecting, displaying and thinking art and art institutions.
She quotes a passage from the Code of Practice of Feminist (art) Institutions presented at Transit in Prague, that I found very meaningful back then and nowadays. I report here as I read it:
“A feminist art institution refuses to abide
by the unwritten criteria of the culture
industry as we know it today.
The art world is based on a system of competition, in
which only those who demonstrate the
requisite endurance, ambition, strength,
assertiveness succeed. A feminist art
institution advocates other values and
virtues. It takes into account human
weakness, frailty, and fatigue, and
prioritises human relationships over
performance."
Human relationships over performance.
Human relationships over performance.
I think this sentence is a code to enter the gate. And many among the 'art world' people might not get through this passage. For example, many of those museum directors and curators who haven't paid fees to the artists they had invited offering back the token of a good reputation; many of the artists who have literally exploited the people working in their studio wanting the work as theirs; many of those institutions who have cut collaborations with external curators when they had been already half way claiming the lack of money or the need to run things internally.
I hope that if I see you on the other side, you got the message.
#codetothegate
#42 APRIL 25, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day43
Me and my mum, chatting in the kitchen after lunch. She opens the window, lights a cigarette and starts smoking.
Me (evidently annoyed because I haven't touched a cigarette in 4 months): "Mum, please, can't you see that the dust is coming in?! And, why don't you simply go out for a smoke? Actually, why don't you even stop now since smokers are among the people in danger for corona virus? Also, ...mum, ehi where are you? ... Did you leave when I was just talking to you?"
Mum: "Listen, you have spent 30 years at least not listening to me, can I take my sweet revenge?" – she says loud from the other room.
Ok, fair enough, I thought.
I don't think we are becoming friends, but there is something special in this new quarantine relationship between us. We're aware of our need to love, talk to someone and yet be on our own that is created by this emergency and I wonder how I could keep this connection between us post- pandemic.
#learninganotherwayofliving
#43 APRIL 25, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day44 (or maybe it's #day45, I don't know, I might have done the wrong calculation – but time is now more than ever relative).
Two days ago I held a guest lecture at SAIC about how our ability to respond to the circumstances is not an option but a responsibility. After the class, I received emails from the participating students thanking me for inspiring them with good reflections. An email read: "Your advice to focus on personal work and to take time to nourish my practice really hit home during this weird and uncertain time." Another said: "Thank you for your visit today, and for sharing your research and your insight. I really appreciate your thought on the ethical approach to art in our current moment.”
And "... I just wanted to reach out and say thank you for such an amazing talk, and for answering my question about the possible ways in which institutions and curators influence one another. Our discussion on ethics and responsibility was extremely informative!" Needless to say that, after 40-something days in lockdown, these emails had life-enhancing effect of the first day of summertime. They made me think about my teachers and the role they played in my life. They have been those, who more than my parents, have stimulated the interests that I couldn't have developed in my family. I am not sure if I ever thanked them in person – my professors and teachers (from those at school to those at dance classes). Did I ever tell them how crucial and important their daily presence has been in my life?
Not sure how many of my professors are on Facebook, but I know one who is for sure, and it's my high school Art history prof. She was 28 or 29 when she came into our last year of high school, and tried to capture our attention with anecdotes and stories about artists, the art world and the many lives of an artwork. I have never heard her speaking about art as if it was a lens to read history. The sparkling energy in her eyes inspired me and convinced me that if only I could have the same contagious energy when talking about art, I would have achieved a meaningful way to live.
Well, when I read these messages from the students, suddenly even this precarious, unstable and (frequently) underpaid life made a lot of sense.
Thank you Irene. You know what I mean. xxx.
#44 APRIL 27, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day47 (written in #day48)
Today I read a book quoting Aristotles’ ethics.
It mentioned how ethics is like with muscles: one needs to exercise them to not waste them; at the same time, they strengthen while practicing. So I began thinking that, truly, we become right people if we practice justice; we become brave if we practice acts of courage; we become lovers if we love; we become altruists if we stop being selfish. Moral: working out during this quarantine is a good thing, regardless if you train your body or your spirit.
#learninganotherwayofliving
#45 APRIL 27, 2020
#quarantinediary
#day48
Yesterday, the Italian President of the Parliament announced "Phase 2" of the lockdown due to coronavirus, which is presented as the same of phase 1 except for the re-opening of the production.
What saddens me the most is the very "Italian/catholic/patriarcal" understanding of what 'family' means and is for real.
People are allowed to visit only family relatives: parents, grandparents, daughters and sons at a distance, with masks and gloves. Fine, happy with that. But what if my friends are my family?
What if those people are the ones making me feel alive? What do you do with those people? This reflection goes for kids as well. What about small kids who will eternally play with exhausted parents?
I mean, we all know how unpredictable, difficult and complex this whole situation is but please Italian politicians learn how to provide also COMPLEX answers to citizens who have been in lockdown for almost 2 months. People are not dumb, put things as complex as they are. And wake up! Family is the world of affection one builds, not just the nucleus where one was born.
#familymatters
Cover photo: Irene Campolmi (The place where I was born, 2020).
Rikke Luna Filipsen (f. 1988) og Matias B. Albæk (f. 1988) er kunstformidlere. De stiftede idoart.dk i 2011, og udover at bidrage med artikler, interviews og essays, fungerer de som mediets redaktører. De driver desuden formidlingsbureauet I DO ART Agency samt forlaget I DO ART Books.
