Otacilia shepherds and mothers me around, arranging this and that and paying for meals that are not paid for by the Bookfair - which paid my accommodation, taxis, and most of the food in Porto Alegre. The flight down here was paid for by DCL but I was met at the aiport by an 'angel' (it's what they call them) from the bookfair wh helped me change my return flight so it goes to Curitiba and not straight back to Sao Paulo - I do not want to return there for a while.
We had a meal in the evening at the worst restaurant I've ever been to for years. Supposedly posh and exclusive, and right by the bookfair's stalls in a main square. The waiter forgot my beer; then the vegetarian pasta had a slab of meat hidden beneath it; when I returned it, they took ages to bring another, by which time everyone else had finished eating; and this had far too much salt in it to be edible. In compensation they gave me a chocolate pudding. This rather skewed my diet since earlier in the afternoon, the same crowd went to a cafe in the art gallery which only served cheesecakes. I ordered one, ate it, and then the owner discovered who I was and wanted me to sign a copy of my book for her in exchange for another pudding, this tie a lemony cheesecake. I was stuffed.
Unfortunately I was taken back to the same restaurant the next morning by Ricardo, the chief press officer for the bookfair, who was very enthusiastic about my work and my talk and the one who wrote the glowing review (well he would wouldn't he). He suffered from polio since the age if nine months and walked on crutches, but is really well, strong and on his second family. He asked me a lot about my beliefs about technology. And what science fiction and writers should be writing about.
When I explain my theory of SF here - the part containing the 'America dreaming' imperialist fantasy idea of Star Trek and Star Wars, everyne understands it. They all profess to hate America. Yet they all drink Coke - especially Otacilia. In fact at the evening meal, everyone drank fizzy drinks and no one drank alcohol with their meal - on a Saturday night. Try finding teetotal publishers and writers after a bookfair in England. About as likely as finding a panda in a pine forest. But American culture is naturally ubiquitous here and insidious regardless. Disney titles, its stories well known for plagiarising and corrupting local myths in favour of its sanitised, sentimentalised versions, is the best selling of DCL's lines, and Otacilia admits the irony of this - it provides one third of their income and allows them to finance other imprints including Lighthouse, the one which publishes Hibridos. They hate it but can't do without it.
After leaving Ricardo I return to the hotel, passing burnt out buildings which the city can't afford to renovate. It reminds me of Nwcastle, or Liverpool. I wait with the taxi driver for ages for a third passenger to go to the airport. The second is a Parisian academic who writes about cities and planning - he tells me he has never visited a favela. I think he can't really know then what South American cities are really like. I want to visit one. He says he wouldn't feel safe. But I know you can get a guide.
Showing posts with label Porto Alegre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Porto Alegre. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Porto Alegre and the art Biennale
Of course I was only there for the weekend, flying in at 1030 in the morning, taxi to the hotel, leaving again the same way the Sunday evening. But of all the towns in all the world that I have visited it reminds me of none more than Newcastle-on-Tyne - Geordie-land.
Both are struggling to recover from a period of decline and scarred by areas of neglect. Several buildings had been gutted by fire and left like that apparently for some time. Many others were empty and covered in graffiti.
Both towns are trying to use culture in order to attract outside interest to the downtown areas. Newcastle has its brilliant Baltic art gallery, while Porto Alegre has its Biennale, a large art exhibition that takes place in several venues every two years, reminiscent of the one in Venice. In fact the best venue for the exhibition is line of disused dock warehouses on the waterfront, that is strikingly similar to the Armoury area in Venice.
The exhibition showcases Brazilian and South American artists, unlike the Biennales in Río and São Paulo, which also provide much space for European and North American artists.
It is very interesting to see how these artists are interpreting and mixing Western traditions with their own. I saw a portable beach holiday (complete with campervan full of sand with a palm tree growing out of the roof), a football match made entirely out of wood (football is of course a matter of life and death here), not to mention a campervan also made entirely a wood.
The latter reminded me of Heather and Ivan Morisson's post-apocalyptic garden shed on wheels that is a mobile library of dystopian literature - including a copy of Hybrids!
Campervans are ubiquitous here, and are used by people wanting to start businesses in another town but not yet able to rent their own space. They symbolise the magnetism the city, the promise of affluence, the energy of growth.
Another fascinating piece - I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to note the names of the artists - was an almost life-size reconstruction of the Parthenon made of scaffolding from which were hung thousands and thousands of books each wrapped in polythene bags. The public was then invited to help themselves, and videos and magazine and newspaper articles document people gladly ripping down the books and throwing them to the crowds below, who ran off hungrily with them.
Because of my interest in Dadaism it was astonishing to discover a Brazilian version, inaugurated 45 years after the original, but aesthetically and insensibility strikingly similar, called Nadaism -- or nothing-ism! I love it.
Another piece celebrates popular graffiti on concrete Modernist architecture, of which there is too much in abundance in the cities.
There is a spirit of enquiry and invention in the art here, a celebration of what it means to be Brazilian. 25 years after the end of the dictatorship, and 20 years after the CIA mostly lost interest in South America with the fall of the Berlin Wall, Brazil is becoming more and more confident, and debating positively its new identity.
Both are struggling to recover from a period of decline and scarred by areas of neglect. Several buildings had been gutted by fire and left like that apparently for some time. Many others were empty and covered in graffiti.
Both towns are trying to use culture in order to attract outside interest to the downtown areas. Newcastle has its brilliant Baltic art gallery, while Porto Alegre has its Biennale, a large art exhibition that takes place in several venues every two years, reminiscent of the one in Venice. In fact the best venue for the exhibition is line of disused dock warehouses on the waterfront, that is strikingly similar to the Armoury area in Venice.
The exhibition showcases Brazilian and South American artists, unlike the Biennales in Río and São Paulo, which also provide much space for European and North American artists.
It is very interesting to see how these artists are interpreting and mixing Western traditions with their own. I saw a portable beach holiday (complete with campervan full of sand with a palm tree growing out of the roof), a football match made entirely out of wood (football is of course a matter of life and death here), not to mention a campervan also made entirely a wood.
The latter reminded me of Heather and Ivan Morisson's post-apocalyptic garden shed on wheels that is a mobile library of dystopian literature - including a copy of Hybrids!
Campervans are ubiquitous here, and are used by people wanting to start businesses in another town but not yet able to rent their own space. They symbolise the magnetism the city, the promise of affluence, the energy of growth.
Another fascinating piece - I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to note the names of the artists - was an almost life-size reconstruction of the Parthenon made of scaffolding from which were hung thousands and thousands of books each wrapped in polythene bags. The public was then invited to help themselves, and videos and magazine and newspaper articles document people gladly ripping down the books and throwing them to the crowds below, who ran off hungrily with them.
Because of my interest in Dadaism it was astonishing to discover a Brazilian version, inaugurated 45 years after the original, but aesthetically and insensibility strikingly similar, called Nadaism -- or nothing-ism! I love it.
Another piece celebrates popular graffiti on concrete Modernist architecture, of which there is too much in abundance in the cities.
There is a spirit of enquiry and invention in the art here, a celebration of what it means to be Brazilian. 25 years after the end of the dictatorship, and 20 years after the CIA mostly lost interest in South America with the fall of the Berlin Wall, Brazil is becoming more and more confident, and debating positively its new identity.
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