Excerpts
& Anecdotes
TRIS VONNA-MICHELL
July -
Aug 2006 / ext 17
//
Audio
Endnote: left on an answering machine at The Swiss Institute
on 28.08.06 from Stockholm / relating to Preface
Preface:
Introducing the phone and web project, now only existing in
a written form:
The concept
for Excerpts & Anecdotes was to return to previously written
words and reconstruct them through a process of anecdotal
telephoning by
1. Selecting fragments from larger stories, creating excerpts
which are then collated into a collection.
2. This newly formed collection would be referred to for inciting
potential audio anecdotes, which were periodically left on
the Swiss Institute’s answer machine.
3. After leaving an anecdote, returning to the collection
and selecting the specific excerpt relevant to the recently
made anecdote, and emailing it to the Swiss Institute (the
anecdotes were unnecessary to listen to since they were primarily
used as the catalyst for the excerpts to take form and interconnect).
4. After leaving anecdotes and sending excerpts during the
months of July and August a new collection is formed. The
anecdotes were appropriately short-lived, existing only until
the next one arrives, which in fact have no evidence of ever
existing - other than the belief that the following collection
resulted from this process of anecdotal telephoning.
//
Anecdote
1: left on an answering machine at The Swiss Institute on
20.07.06 from Hahn Airport, Germany / relating to Excerpt
1
Excerpt
1: Relating to an experience on the 26th of July 2005; Hahn
Airport, Germany:
On Tuesday
the 26th of July I flew back to England. As I sat at the entrance
of the airport, Frankfurt Hahn, I watched two people talk
over the length of a cigarette and the width of the kerb;
a tall dark shape sat on the pavement, legs crossed upright,
looking up at a nun hunched out of a long black car. The car
looked like an eighties Mercedes, but I think it was a family
Volvo or Toyota. I watched evasively, but occasionally I would
concentrate on this very ordinary event: friend, who appeared
to be a nun, an extremely tall nun, must have driven her friend
to the airport – where she will depart from; leaving
her friend, the driver, behind, hence, the opportune positioning
of the car with a seat to endure the pleasure of a final few
words and a smoke: As said, it’s pretty ordinary in
itself.
I ended
up in another queue, again predicably long, this time the
girl and the nun, who was taller than me by this stage, were
a few spaces behind. To my mind they spoke German and quite
possibly did the whole time, but I saw her passport, it had
a blue cover, and she looked a little more Middle Eastern
than German. They spoke quietly - ushering along the line,
I can only recall one sentence from her, Danke für Alles.
I wrote her even though I previously mentioned two girls,
which leaves a question mark to which lady I was referring
to, but the response to this emotional and quite alluring
thank you was a soft male’s voice. They embraced and
he left.
//
Anecdote
2: left on an answering machine at The Swiss Institute on
24.07.06 from Stansted Airport, England / relating to Excerpt
2
Excerpt
2: Relating to the memory of the 26th of July 2005 experience;
at Stansted Airport, England:
A few
weeks ago, after flying home from Frankfurt I managed to amply
time my journey successfully home. In hindsight, too well,
unfortunately I confused my lines, which ended with me returning
to my bed much earlier than both of us would have intended.
It vexes me to recall my final few words to her, as the train
doors were shutting, “it’s cheaper and better
to go by bus.” The doors shuddered and we both silenced
our goodbyes. The train began to leave the platform, but I
had already turned my back, headless, and slowly walked away.
I then stopped, turned around, looked for her again, but all
I could see was shapes stammering away, inaudibly. If I had
seen her, perhaps I might generously speculate, I would have
leapt at the moving train and yelled something, anything to
reiterate my stupidity.
We barely
spoke before that ending.
//
Anecdote 3: left on an answering machine at The Swiss
Institute on 10.08.06 from Stockholm / relating to Excerpt
3
Excerpt
3: Relating to a purchase in February 2005; around the River
Thames, England:
The weather
is far too cold for me. Yesterday was almost unbearable. Today
hardly better, again, I sped up my riverside journeying for
the prospect of returning to the home that I am currently
staying at. Coffee time again, my hands are struggling to
type these words. Earlier this afternoon I bought myself a
pack of three notepads. The need for a notepad was questionable;
three however, definitely seemed absurd. Notepads, sketchbooks,
scraps of paper, I never know what purpose to ascribe to them,
or when, at which point, I have moved to the next one. Perhaps
like many friendships, there is a silent, amicable ending,
that needn’t really have an agenda in the first place,
nor an explicit departure or beginning. Since I am staying
in London alone, I have found myself quite unintentionally
ascribing my friendship and thoughts to one of the three notepads,
and this document.
I don’t
regret buying the three notepads; two I gave away as greeting
presents, and the third I use as my current notepad for this
project. Included in the purchase package was a set of nine
stickers. The individual stickers each contained a quotation
from various writers and thinkers. For me, the most striking
was by Guy de Maupassant:
“Words
dazzle and deceive because they are mimed by the face. But
black words on a white page are the soul laid bare.”
//
Anecdote
4: left on an answering machine at The Swiss Institute on
17.08.06 from Stockholm /
relating to Excerpt 4
Excerpt 4: Relating
to a recollection of related teenage experiences; set in England
and Japan:
I hastily
finished my GCSEs and embarked upon A-Level equivalent studies
in a tiny village almost two hours away from my hometown.
Daily I would travel for four hours in order to attend a language-orientated
school. I learnt Japanese. After completion I worked as a
postman to earn money to finance my trip to Japan. I had acquired
relatively little money so my parents were concerned –
they gave me £50 for a phonecard to keep in touch. After
two weeks in Tokyo I was near penniless. I began to sleep
in stations, benches, temples, beaches, parks, tiny tourist
islands and trains for weeks until my return date, the 17th
August. This activity of teenage homelessness in Japan lasted
over one month in which every week I would call my parents
and fabricate wonderful tales of tourism and safe adventure.
My father gave me an old dysfunctional Rollei SLR camera,
which I believed, documented and followed every brave step
I took. Once back in England I gave almost twenty rolls of
film into my local drug store and returned the following day
with great excitement for the verification and aesthetical
glorification of an extraordinary experience. Almost all black,
no exposure – the mirror was jammed and never opened
but the camera transported each roll of film through; I was
deceived by the mechanism of production.
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