The Vanishing Man

The Rockstar Treatment in Bern, Switzerland

seanpatrickmulroy — Tue, 15 May 2012 16:12:55 +0000

There was so much about the show in Switzerland that was truly beyond the pale. Besides an early introduction to some of the Germany poets I would be touring with later in the week, I was also reunited with an old friend, legendary American vagabond, Danny Sherrard.

: Danny at the Window of the Hotel

It had been a few years since I”d seen Danny, and it was really great to spend a few days with him, being given the rockstar treatment by our venue. Performers for the slam in Switzerland are given the same privileges and perks as a touring band–open bar (top shelf scotch, thank you for making me nigh-inappropriately flirt with everybody around me, all night), a free meal (i ate rabbit! it was kind of gross! definitely not worth knowing that you’ve eaten a bunny!) and a free stay at the built-into-the-backstage living quarters, complete with full kitchen, shower, and huge bunk room. Because Danny and I had an extra day in town before continuing to northern germany, we were given a beautiful hotel in the center of town, gratis–and an opportunity to walk around and photograph the amazing art and statuary. Here are a few of my favorite shots–the rest can be found on my facebook.

A sampling of the truly awful parts of Germany

4dm1n — Sun, 18 Mar 2012 03:38:34 +0000

American slam poets returning home from Germany will often speak with awe of the tremendous crowds, the sheer number of slams (a touring poet can actually spend every day on tour in Germany performing somewhere, if they’re connected enough to be in the know), and the relatively adept understanding of English in the fan base. All true, gang, all true. So since Germany is in many ways an organizational mecca for slam, I feel that in talking about Deutchland that, as with the Louvre, it is somewhat passe to go on about all the great stuff (alright fine, I’ll talk about the great stuff in two entries when I cover the shows in Germany). In the meantime, here is a sampling of the truly awful in Germany:

: a fat stop sign

: “Art” from my hotel in Berlin

: Huge Wasp Nest in Halle

: Underage Drinking

Street (and regular) art in Aarhus, Denmark.

4dm1n — Sat, 17 Mar 2012 03:39:21 +0000

Though the considerable cold and fleeting light of a Scandinavian February prevented me from spending too much time on the pavement
seeking out street art, I did find a few pretty excellent pieces.

This one in particular really moved me. I know it doesn’t look like much (now). In case you can’t tell, the piece was once a human figure kneeling in a pose reminiscent of a prisoner begging for mercy. You’ll note it’s been smashed (the head was actually on the pavement a little bit to the right of this frame). Herein lies the purpose (and incredible-ness) of the piece: it was designed to be smashed. The artist left this prone figure in a public square with a video camera nearby, and waited for the local drunks to come and smash it. Apparently, it was a statement about how people have no respect for art.

Boom.

In addition to the street art, there was also a banging art museum in Aarhus, the ARoS, where I spent a few hours looking over some of the coolest sensory installments by artist Olafur Eliasson. Below is video of my favorites: “Beauty,” “Your Atmospheric Color Atlas.”

For “Your Atmospheric Color Atlas,” the room is painted stark white, filled with a dense, machine-generated mist, and flooded with a bright and varied spectrum of colored light. Completely deprived of a reliable sense of sight and an impaired sense of hearing (the smoke generator makes for some pretty hardcore white noise), the visitor to the room wanders through a truly surreal and isolated space. I want one for my living room.

Also notable, the unbearable (yet compelling) art piece, “Unk,” by Tony Oursler, featuring a large
aquarium filled with water and a what appears to be a giant head, drowning inside.

UGH.

For a few more shots of street art, and pieces inside the museum, check out the Aarhus album on Facebook.

Aarhus, in the middle of Denmark

4dm1n — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 23:09:36 +0000

The big freeze in Rome had one additional benefit, in that the white hills of Denmark appeared tame in comparison. Climate shock abated, I had a much easier time absorbing the beautiful city of Aarhus, where I thoroughly enjoyed my three day stint.

Some highlights: The ferry from sealand to jutland serving up a visual feast of ice floes and jet black sea; an awesome little bar called Under Masken, which means, unsurprisingly, “behind the mask,” and of course, the amazing organizers and performers behind the slam. The Aarhus show was one of my favorites and I highly recommend the city and the show to any American poets who have a mind to tour in Europe.

rome appendix: street, nay, folk art, in rome, italy.

4dm1n — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 19:31:37 +0000

So in Rome, I was at first suprised by the complete lack of complex graffiti art–until I realised that perhaps, the presence of several 2000+ year old structures might allow for the local vandalism laws to pack an extra punch. Or two. I mean, Rome was sacked by the actual vandals, right? So, no real street art in Rome. I mean, I think I saw one ratty old Space Invader somewhere on a bridge over the Tiber, but shit had seen better days.Luckily, the blizzard provided an unusual source of, uh, folk art: Snowmen. Snowmen, EVERYWHERE. Here are a few of my favorites–for more, see the full gallery on facebook.

: This is the finished product of the snowman from the last entry’s video

: This guy had a change bucket in front. I think Cody gave him money.

: I gave him a moustache with lint from my sweater!

What I Did On My European Vacation: Rome

4dm1n — Sun, 11 Mar 2012 09:21:41 +0000

So Rome was the first of two actual “vacations” I would take in Europe, and unsurprisingly, after about a month on the run, in winter, under stress, smoking, what-have-you–I was a little bit under the weather.

Problem Solved!

My first day in rome was very warm. I rushed to the collosei, and walked around it, in awe of its unbelievable size. Say what
you want about the tourist monuments of western Europe, with very few exceptions, they deliver. Two days later, my friend Cody arrived from the North. So did a freak cold front which brought the first snowfall in 30 years.

: uh oh.

: there was sledding.

Because the infrastructure of the city is not in the least bit equipped to deal with snowfall of this magnitude, the strange weather left Rome paralyzed–monuments closed, flights grounded, monuments and landmarks closed, streets and sidewalks nearly unwalkable.

A pretty crumby vacation, you might say–but during our week-long stay, Cody and I were treated to
once-in-a-lifetime sights and sounds–children sledding on the spanish steps, an ice-encrusted Trevi fountain, and of course, an excuse to spend a couple extra hours in the many charming and delicious Italian restaurants.

: 2000 years later, you’re still losing the snowball fight

: So beautiful.

: I’d avoid the Mare Horse D’Ouevres, tho.

Pforzheim, Germany

4dm1n — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 22:54:10 +0000

So immediately following my last show with the Exit/No Exit show, I hopped a train from Paris, France to Stuttgart, Germany, where I met my friend Paddy. Paddy and I go way back, to when he was working with my family taking care of mentally handicapped citizens in Massachusetts–and I was still a failed rock star with a bomb apartment in lower Allston.

Paddy and I drove to Pforzheim together, where I had a show that night at the local slam. The slam, my first in Germany, was der hammer; they treated me like a prince, ran a tight and well-attended show, and gave me some cash (which I promptly spent at the Hugo Boss outlet in Stuttgart, but who’s counting!?).

: Book signing in Pforzheim!

The next night, me and Paddy went to see some of Stuttgart–some of the famously weird statuary downtown, and then to the tallest cable tower in all of Europe.

: This is what a migraine looks like.

: Fing Tall.

We had a beer at the restaurant somebody built on the top.

The beer, for the record, was lovely.

Even though it was punishingly cold, the view of the city from over 500ms in the air, nestled idyllically in the valley, glistening in the night, was totally worth the chill (although utterly unphotographable). And, I figured, my next stop, in Rome, would be a lot warmer. Heh.

Exit/No Exit: Dijon, Reims, Paris.

4dm1n — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 20:51:47 +0000

Finishing Exit/No Exit, I didn’t take a lot of photos. Partially because Jade’s friend Caleb arrived with major photographic expertise, and partially because I was mad stressed out about Amsterdam, and also account issues with both of my banks, PayPal, and my phone. It seemed like coincidental misfortune at every turn was the name of the game, until we arrived in Dijon, France. There, we met two ebullient young ladies from the French poetry scene who took us in, took us around the city, cooked us some delicious food, and laughed with us as we shot paper airplanes over the language barrier. Walking in the mist of Dijon with a friend that morning was nothing short of magical.

The next day, in Reims, we stayed with an amazing French family who literally laid out a damn banquet for us before our show. Then, the show. Holy shit. Reims, like Barcelona, hosted us in an intimate space (a pate and fromagerie, no bigger than 25×25 feet)
crowded with 30 or so incredible listeners. Jade and I both got a chance to connect with our audience on an almost one on one basis as the crowd stayed quiet and leaned in to our poems and the windows of the shop fogged up with body heat against the cold of January outside. After the venue had closed, we stayed in to smoke cigarettes and drink champagne which the venue provided us. If you’re ever in France, I really recommend you track down Slam Tribu, it was truly one of the best experiences I’ve ever had on tour, and the last chance Jade and I had to read poems together in Europe, at least for now.

: Very Meta John the Baptist

In Reims, we visited the cathedral where Joan D’Arc allegedly convinced the King to go to war. There were some pretty crazy
statues in that place–my favorite was one of John the Baptist, with a[broken] depiction of Salome holding a plate sculpted where his now severed head would have been. Very meta.

Our last show together was in Paris, at the Downtown Café, where we played our songs and later jammed with the house band (consisting of talented percussionists, guitar players, and a ssssssssmoking hot teenage sax player).

The Exit/No Exit tour was a major success, I believe, one with too many stories and jokes to share here—but let me say that Jade Sylvan is an amazing tour partner and friend, and her Madame Psychosis game is not to be trifled with. For reals.

Also, imagine that this creepy angel is watching over you at night.

: Creeper Angel

Street Art in Amsterdam

4dm1n — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 19:43:48 +0000

As I walked around the city, I was kind of bummed to see that Amsterdam at first seemed bereft of the street art I’d gotten so used to observing in Barcelona and Paris. I thought maybe they were more militant about graffiti in the city, or perhaps everyone was too stoned to scale buildings. And then I turned a corner into this neighborhood, and started snapping pictures left and right like a damn clown. Here are some of the best shots, and as always,more photos can be found on Facebook.

: Great composition here.

: It’s a duck, It’s a ram, it’s a symbol for Dutch cuisine.

: I wish this shot showed how big this thing was. One of the best I’ve seen!

Exit/No Exit: Amsterdam

4dm1n — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 15:11:51 +0000

I think if I’m being honest, that Amsterdam suffered in comparison to Barcelona, partially because of the weather, and partially because I missed carrying on conversations in broken Spanish. There were some really amazing things about the city, though, and most of them were not marijuana or sex-worker related (although I must tell you, I saw some astonishingly well-articulated examples of both during my brief stay there). At the show we had booked, I met some incredible poets and organizers in the city, and great performances were put in by Jade, Dareka Daremo, and Daan Doesborgh. I felt like my set suffered a little bit (crazy heckler dude fucked up my game, so did some mic feedback, and my OWN CELL PHONE GOING OFF during a rather intense poem). All that said, I chatted up some guys from a punk band called the O.D. Kids after the show, smoked a bunch of bummed Gauloises, and vowed to return again and triumph over heckling and mic problemos.

So, some more good things about Amsterdam: in the time before the show, we were led around by our friend and host Onno, who pointed out a few of the cool local points of interest and cultural markers. One thing that stood out: a barge covered in rusty bicycles, fished out of the canal. Apparently, bikes are so numerous in Amsterdam that the discarded or lost bikes can actually clog the water to a boat-defying degree:

: Don’t cry Williamsburg, I doubt they were fixies.

Jade and I both got to eat a ‘traditional’ Dutch meatloaf sandwich at a café—which was so good, you could have told me it was made out of people and I’d have wiped my mouth with a napkin corner and asked for another.