deadline 0

7/28/2019 Deadline 0

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1

Deadline

0#

First steps

We are starting.

Were researching.

We search for ourselves.

We tame ourselves.

Were walking. Were roaming. We wander.

We loose ourselves.

We miss. We find.We find ourselves.

We are merging.

We protest. We laugh. We speak.

We listen to each other, or we dont.

Were talking. We are hearing.

We chat in every language.

Were singing.

We play. We cheat.

We win and loose.

We are trespassing the lines.

We will go off the rails sometimes.

We are alive.


2/24

2

Chemin de fer

I was thinking of how we would put

in order the texts and pictures for

this Deadline #0. In French, and in

journalistic slang, when you decide on

which page you put each contribution

in a newspaper, you build a chemin de

ferof the publication.And chemin de fer means railway.

No wonder we are sometimes off the

tracks.

The main issue of Mechanisms

For An Entente is the production

of a multiform collective artwork,

to promote a deep aesthetic,

philosophical and political reasoning

about the becoming of CentralEuropean countries in relation to the

idea of the European Union.

We want to work the nature of the

European condition.

by V.S.

(text on cover by Valrie de Saint-Do)


3/24

3

Everytime I take a train in France

especially the TGV, High Speed Train .

I am struck by what the railway stations have become : kind

of small, frozen and cheap airports. Its particularly obvious in the

stations that have been built in no mans land, only for the TGV connections,

estranged form the city centers (in Avignon, for instance).

I remember sleeping in Gare du Nord in Paris twenty-five years ago, before taking a train

to Calais on my way to London (Eurostar was not in use then). I remember that in Bordeaux,

as in many cities, in the 80s, the railway station used to be a shelter for homeless people whom

begun to be more and more in France. I remember that one of the goals of the station renovation was

precisely to keep them away. In fact, we have less and less night trains in France, and the stations have

ceased to be a weird place for strange meetings and precarious hospitality.When I went to the railway station in Krakow, I felt taken years back. As in Bucharest and in Cluj.

It is a challenge, of course as the very interesting discussion we had with the technical director of CFR, Emanoil

Culda to modernize the railway infrastructure in Central-East Europe. But you cant help hoping that the mistakes

we made will be avoided, and that, for instance, railway stations will stay the strange human places of transit they

have been.

Station to station

Gara de Nord in Bucharest photo by Mathieu Lericq

by Valrie de Saint-Do


4/24

4

Here's to you O brother

Here's to you on the railway

Here's to you the Polish

Here's to you from Paris

Here's to you the Slovak

Here's to you the Basque

Here's to you the HungarianHere's to you the Romanian

Here's to you from Bordeaux

Here's to you Roma people

Here's to you the researcher

Here's to you the performer

Here's to you the curator

Here's to you the reporter

Here's to you the sociologist

Here's to you the anthropologist

Here's to you the photographer

Here's to you the choreographerHere's to you the architect

Here's to you the poet

Here's to you the historian

Here's to you with no name

Here's to you Bucharest

Here's to you Budapest

Here's to you Cluj-Napoca

Here's to you Dracula

Here's to you Kosice

Here's to you Nowy Sacz

Here's to you city of Warsaw

Here's to you city of Cracow

Here's to you city of Plavec

Hail to the ghost of Erszebet

Here's to you sons of communism

Here's to you girls of Mechanisms

Here's to you the Fabrica

Here's to you Tabacka

Here's to you Bakelit

Here's to you all the artists

Here's to you the activists

Here's to you in the bars

Here's to you the hangoverHere's to you kino-wagon

Here's to you all and fuck the morons

On our rst evening in Cluj, a few of us had a drink upthe hill, and we spontaneously began to sing. Seydou

asked me : Don't you know a french punk song ?And immediately, Salut toi , from the Brurier Noir,

came to me. It used to be a real anthem in the 80's,and I began to improvize to adapt it to the groupeand the project. And then, I translated it into english,

and Jarek into Polish...

>

>

>

,

Mechanisms Anthem

adapted by V.S.


5/24

5

photos by Marta Jonville


6/24

6

1 VII 2013r

Przybycie. Ja, Rom, Jarek.

Przychodz po nas: Saydo,

Tomas, ukasz, Nils, Lujza.

Jest wieczr, ciemno,

ptaki na nas nie sraj,

bo pi Birds do not

shit on us, because they

are sleeping. Gadamy na

dworcu, potem idziemy. Po

drodze Nil i Rom siakaj

na murek. Centrum miasta.

Zatrzymujemy si w sklepie.

Kupuj piwo. ukasz,Saydo pytaj: pomc ci

z bagaem? Gentelmeni.

ukasz, Seydou asked: Do

you need help with your

luggage? Gentlemen. No,

przyjemnie. Barbara and

I put our chairs in the

sun. Hot, nice. ukaszsam. Jarek, Basia, Lujza

razem. Grupkami wychodzimy.

Czekam na Roma. Idziemy.

Wdrwka, wdrwka,

wdrwka. Piwo w knajpie.

Wdrwka. Metro. Wdrwka,

wdrwka, wdrwka.

Kino wagon wieczorem.

Pierwszy obiad po. Dobre,

tradycyjne rumuskie

jedzenie. Kieliszek wina

i may papieros. Potem

taniec w Control. Piwo,taniec, papierosy, my, my,

my. After that is dance

in Control. Beer, dance,

cigarettes, we, we, we.

This story is notabout a gun

thanks. Nie, dzikuj. Moe

jednak, powtarza wci ukasz,

w kocu przestaje. Droga dohostelu z bagaem na plecach

duy si. Dochodzimy. W hostelu

party integracyjne dogorywa.

Ja, Romek, Jarek idziemy w

miasto. Stare miasto bukaresztu.

Brutalne kluby i kawiarnie. Old

town of Bucharest. Btutal clubs

and coffees. P nagie kobiety

w oknach tacz na rurach. Bol

nas nogi. Wracamy. pimy.

2 VII 2013r

niadanie. Powitania. Poznawanie

si. Potem wolna rka. Troch

soca wpada na dziedziniec.

Ja i Basia stawiamy krzesa w

promieniach soca. Gorco,

Diary of thesummertime trip

This story is not about a gun. I celebrated my birthday this

year, 7-7, like every year, this time in Cluj, Romania. Lately

I get this very special present for my birthdays, a new friend,

and even though it is not common for party acquaintances,

these friendships proved to last and enrich me. These gifts

were not intended by anybody, but still I got them, for me,

to be a happier person. Best gifts for me you cannot own,

and I think precisely for this they rock it so much. A friend

is something sacred, something you should take care of and

cherish, friendship is the best thing that can happen to you in

life. Body is essential for this life we have, but as long as you

dont share your corporeal experience with others, it is not

that pleasant to be a human being. So this year I was partying

in Cluj, and on the way back from the rave we stopped on the

playground close to our hotel, and this is where my new friend

Paul broke my tooth on merry-go-round, by accident. None

of us was happy about this, but still it was a good party night.

A tooth is something that can get fixed, moments with your

friends can not be taken away from you. Yesterday Paul told

me his best friend has her tooth broken exactly the same way

as me now, which I see funny and cool at the same time, and I

am sure that were going to be supercool buddies for long time.

The gun I got from my longtime friends Bea and Kubo. This is

what this story is about.

by Joanna Bednarczyk

by Lujza Magova


7/24

7

3 VII 2013

Podobno mamy wyj

z hostelu o 10 ran.

Wychodzimy o 12.

Zwiedzamy muzeum

etnograczne.

Jest piknie,

jest wiejsko,

chopsko, prosto,

misternie. It isbeautiful, rustic,

peasant, simple,

subtle. Pikne

ubrania, wyszywane

zot i czerwon

nitk. Drewniane

meble, zdobione

pokrgymi

motywami. Nogi bol

w kadej kolejnej

sali coraz bardziej.

Wikszo jest

zachwycona. Godzina,

moe ptorej i

wychodzimy. Przed

muzeum Mathieu

robi zdjcie

wycignitych

ramion. In front of

the museum Mathieu

takes a picture

outstretched arms.Najpierw w prawo,

potem w lewo.

Idziemy na rynek.

Rynek jest ogromny.

S tam mzgi, puca,nerki i ozory

zwierzt. There

are brains, lungs,

kidneys and tongues

of animals. Chawy,

sery, orzechy,

owoce, ceramika.

Wszystko. Mamy

tylko p godziny,

eby to wszystko

zobaczy, dotkn,

zapamita. Potem

lets go, idziemydalej. Na chodnikach

starsze kobiety

sprzedaj czosnek i

kalaor. Kiedy widz

policj, uciekaj

tumnie. On the

sidewalks old women

are selling garlic

and cauliower.

When they see the

police, they escape

crowds. Kolejne

muzeum. Sztuki

wspczesnej. Czterypitra. Wszyscy

prdzej czy pniej

wpadaj w irytacj

i jad wind do

baru. Everyone

sooner or later fall

into annoyance and with

lift ride to the bar.Piwo, papierosy, arty.

Mae rozmowy. Wracamy do

hostelu. Po drodze may

performance - Lujza. Nie

mam majtek przez cay

dzie. Nikt o tym nie wie.

Wracamy piechot. Kawa

drogi. Upa, krgosup

drga znudzony t ca

wdrwk. Obiad. Kolejnaimpreza. Nowy klub. Goe

niebo. Trawa. Trawa.

4 VII 2013

Performance Romana ma

by o 11 rano. Budz si

i pytam go: czy wiesz,

e twj performance

powinien trwa ju od 20

minut? I wake up and ask

him: did you know that

your performance shouldlast 20 minutes already?

Roman zrywa si z ka.

Zbiega na d i aduje

do puda wszystkie swoje

rzeczy. Daje Gulliamo 5

euro. Wszyscy stopniowo

wychodz. Tumaczymy

z jarekim karty. Rom

szuka materiau na buty.

Znajduje i robi je. Czarne

lakierki ala klapki

plaowe. Winogronowa

ozdoba. Po poudniu

performance. W sklepie.Wyganiaj nas z jednego,

wic idziemy do innego.

Tam witaj nas z otwartymi

ramionami. In the shop.

In this place we are

kicked off, so we go to

the other. There welcome

us with open arms. Gra

muzyka. Potem znw to samo

obiad. I znw party.

Nie opaca si spa. O

5 rano wyjedamy. Na

kacu egnamy Bukareszt.Hungover, we goodbye

Bucharest.

5 VII 2013r

5 rano, jedna takswka,

druga, trzecia, czwarta,

pita... 5 a.m. One taxi,

second, third, fourth,

fth... Jedziemy do Cluju.

Sen w caym przedziale.

Sleep in whole roomette.Oczy zamknite na widoki

za oknem. Closed eyesnot seeing view from

the window. Papierosy

w toalecie. Kanapka na

kolanie. 12 godzin. Hotel,

pensjonat jak z lmw

porno. Potem obiad. Rumuskie

menu, ale s obrazki. Jedzenie,

picie, palenie. Rozmowy. Small

talk. Potem after na wysokiej

grze. W ciemnoci piwo i piew

starych hipisw i modych

darmozjadw. Plac zabaw dla

wszystkich. Kindergarten for

everybody. Piwo kotuje si w

brzuchu. Kr w drug stron,

woaj. Koniki, plastik. Idziemydo domu. We trjk wspinamy si

jeszcze wyej. Tajemniczy club.

Drukuj gazety. Nikogo nie ma.

Czerwone wiato. Wracamy. Hotel

porno, witamy. Hotel porno,

welcome.

6 VII 2013

Spacer do lasu. Spacer do lasu.

Jeszcze tylko 20 minut. Jeszcze

tylko 20 minut. Only 20 minutes

more. Piwo, spacer, piwo,

spacer. Trzy godziny jestemy

na miejscu. Three hours we

are on the spot. Wracamy

takswk.

7 VII 2013

Soce, niedziela. Musz napisa

o tym, e nie przepadam za

niedzielami. Nie przepadam za

niedzielami. I do not like

Sundays... Jestemy wysoko. W

monastyrze. Midzy krzakami

troch seksu. Surowe owoce,brudne, niemyte wkadamy do

buzi. Niedojrzae. Wianek na

dwch gowach. Wreath on the two

heads lady potu pod pachami.

Dzwoni dzwony. Odjeda

zmumikowana rka. Czarna rka

odjeda. Dzwony ustaj. Bells

cease. Pienidze wepchnite w

szpary domu. We wsi may bar.

Palinka za 1,50. Palinka for

1,5 lei. Pocig, powrt. Czy

bya tu burza? Znw obiad. Dwie

dodatkowe butelki wina. Nikt nie

idzie na party. Nobody go to the

party. Wszyscy

8 VII 2013

Spotkanie na dworcu. May pokj,

bardzo, bardzo gorco, duszno,

spa, spa, spa. Small room,

very, very hot, stuffy, sleep,

sleep, sleep. Ping pong i boks.

Ping pong and boks. Zwycia

nieznany mczyzna. Szczegowe

wyniki w biaym dzienniku.

Particular results in whitediary. I cztery zupy. Four

soups. Trzy zimne. Na ciep

prawie nikt si nie zaapa.

Warm soup almost nobody ate

it. Potem koncert, koncert,

koncert. Koncert.


8/24

8

June, wednesday the 26th, Bordeaux, France.

Im coming back by bus from a one month bike trip alone around Spain,

amazing. Its 6 a.m. At the station, i say goodbye to Karim, a moroccan guy

with whom i spent the last two days in Sevilla and Madrid, but mostly in the

bus. I note his email address in my book where is my passport and finally i go

back home. There, i say hello to my roommates and to a friend whose staying there

for a last night before he leaves for Berlin. I have a train the next day to spend some

days in Paris before i take the plane on monday, the 1st of July, to go to Bucharest,

Romania, and meet people from mechanisms for an entente to spend the summer

with them. The schedule is tight, but feasible.

June, thursday the 27th, Paris, France

I arrive in Paris and realize something is missing: the book with my passport inside. This is

where it all started

I was almost sure to have it before i left, but nothing. Did i loose it in the train, did somebody steel it

from me? I also remember me noting the Karims address at the bus station, maybe i forgot it over there,

who knows.. I always do that anyway, i forget, drop, break my things like i didnt care. A week ago, i just

forgot my sunglasses in a olive field. Two weeks ago, i broke a friends camera because i rolled trough water

with my bike. A month ago, my bike, another one, has been stolen, i mean, i forgot it in front of the house,

thinking of something else, and somebody took it.

I check my pockets, my bag, nothing. Im getting nervous. Maybe i forgot it at home, in Bordeaux. So i call myroommates to look for it, still nothing. I spend an hour, thinking on every place i could have drop it. I call the lost

objects offices, all of them in. Nothing. I call the police stations in Paris, nothing. In Bordeaux still nothing. I waited a

day, in case somebody found it, but still, nothing.

Everything is bringing me to that simple conclusion: I lost it. Im starting to be stressed out, understanding all the consequences

of this lost.

June, friday the 28th, Paris, France.

I go to the police station so they give me paper saying my passport is lost. Then i call the school, which is taking care of reservations

for plane tickets and everything. Im almost shaking because , of course i didnt want it to happen but still, it happened and finally

its hard to say :Hey, im a shit. Finally theyre so understanding that im almost ashamed and another plane ticket is booked for the

5th of July. The plan is to do an emergency passport. So i go to the town hall in Paris where they tell me that its going to take a while

and that, anyway, they cant do it there because im living in Bordeaux. I cant do anything more but wait until monday to do it in

Bordeaux. Frustrating week end.

July, monday the 1st, Bordeaux, France.

I still have a hope that i lost the passport home. So i look everywhere, rooms, garage, bags, kitchen, bathroom, once, twice,

nothing. I call back all the lost objects offices, nothing. I go then at the town hall with all the papers they need to make

a new passport and the flying tickets saying that im supposed to leave on friday. They tell me its going to take 10 days.

So i call back the school which uses of its relations at the town hall to make it goes faster. I should have it in 2 days.

July, wednesday the 3rd, Bordeaux, France.

Im waiting, stressed, almost depressed. I cant do anything but wait. Frustration is my best friend. The

passport is still not there. Im imagining what they are doing in Romania, looking at photos, reading mails

exchange between members of the workshop. And then Then i receive a message, from my friend who

left to Berlin saying I have your book and your passport, i took them without paying attention, sorry. Idont understand straight and it takes some minutes for me to realize. He did it, no way Its hard for

me to believe in it, but finally it makes sense. I came back home this night, i drop the book with the

passport on the bar in the kitchen. He left while i was still sleeping, and he just took it, thinking

the book was his. He has the same kind, the littles Moleskines ones. I ask him to send it quickly.

July, thursday the 4th, Bordeaux, France.

The flight is tomorrow. The mail from Fedex arrived on the morning with my old passport

inside. I call the city hall and ask them if i can use it. No way they tell me, you cant use it

anymore and you have to bring it back. I thought really strongly about going with this

one, but seriously, i dont feel like in a lucky mood and i really dont feel like being

stuck at the borders. So i go to the city hall to see if they received the new one. I

received a call from school while i was waiting. The passport has been made,

2 days ago, but they have delivery problems so it will probably be there the

next day which means that i wont be able to get in the flight tomorrow. I

go home, waiting again, thinking of my friend, thinking of the past week,

looking at the old passport, doing nothing, overwhelmed.

Story of a failed departure


9/24

9

July, friday the 5th, Bordeaux, France.

I go to the city town where they finally give me the new passport. Im

looking on how to leave. I hesitate between a 40h bus trip on the 6th,

or a flight on the the 8th to Budapest from where ill wait for everybody.

I finally choose the second option. I still have to wait, but this time im sure

everything is ok. I have to confess that Im still a bit scared of loosing my

passport but i promess myself to take care of it.

July, monday the 8th, Budapest, Hungary.

Everything went fine, they didnt even looked at my passport on borders

by Alexis Emery-Dufoug

still from the movie Morgen


10/24

10

KINO_WAGON #1TOMORROW MORNING, I WILL CROSS THE BORDER FOR YOU

by Mathieu Lericq

The kino_wagon sessions during the workshop started on the 2nd of July at the French Institute of Bucharest

with the screening of Morgen (2010), a long-feature film directed by Romanian director Marian Crisan. Taking

place in a little village near the Hungarian border called Salonta, the action shows a untypical friendship between

Nelu, a Romanian inconspicuous villager, and Behru, a Turkish immigrant who illegally tries to reach his family in

Germany.

The film starts with a morning motorbike journey of Nelu, from the place he used to go fishing and the place he

works. In between, a border separating Romania and Hungary. The sequence turns quickly into a metaphor : the

fish that Nelu carries in his side-car cannot cross the border without certification. He thus must throw the fish in

Hungary in order to go back to Romania. The fish, without a proper identity, will die here, in the total indifference

of the authorities. What the spectator does not know yet is that a second fish, in a human shape, will soon appear.

And, in contrast with the first one, he will pursue his journey despite a very uncertain road.

The second fish comes from Turkey and wants to go to Germany. Without any sort of interest, Nelu gives him food

and hides him in his cellar. Their friendship creates itself beyond languages, conventions, moralities and laws.

The film avoids the intentions in order to focus on the confrontation between a specific context and an unexpected

relationship. That is probably also the reason why the director prefers to shape his film as a portrait made by seriesof long shots, instead of a drama based of narrative efficiency.

One of the questions that the film rises is : What immigrating means? The film does not give the answer but draws

the outlines : a desire of passage, an impossibility to communicate, a possibility to be deprived from the only things

you possess, an abandonment without identity, a long-term loneliness in unknown spaces. An endless in-between.

A second question is developped in the film : What a friendship can be based on ? A trust beyond languages and

traditions, a possibility to start to feel again, to surpass the others and your own expectations.

At the end of the film, Nelu brings Behru in his motorbike side-car over the borders. That time, he will not use the

official road. Thus, the man who clung to his hook will get the opportunity the contingency, not the chance to

walk ahead. An helicopter flies in the sky, turning the human will into a dangerous quest of dignity.

Next kino_wagon sessions : Three Polish documentaries screened in Cluj-Napoca (Fabrica de Pensule) on the 9th

of July at 20:00, and Silence and cry (Mikls Jancs, 1968) in Budapest (French Institute) on the 12th of July at19:00.

,

still from the movie Morgen


11/24

11

Nils, the Atlant (Cluj): Atlant is a strong man, who is holding the weight

of the world, in this case the building metaphorically and literally.

Revolutia din 1907, Pantelimon, Bucharest

compositions by Beta Kolbaovsk


12/24


13/24

13

Bobi bumped. Hes like a little nervous

grasshopper. He has already travelled more than

an Erasmus student and speaks three languages.

He likes to show off his muscles by lifting

watermelons.

I still dont understand why Danilo wanted me to take this picture. The truck is not theirs.

They insisted a lot. I decided not to understand and do as the wanted it to be.


14/24

14

Linda harvested nearly all fruits in Spain. Shes proud of it. She wanted to tell me her life

in Spain and be photographed with a watermelon. She always comes back to Romania.

They asked me to make a family picture. The

grandmother Linda, the parents Danilo and Liliand the son Bobi.


15/24

15

Rosana is 13 years old. Theres something strange

about her. When I went back to give her the

picture she was sleeping on the floor. She took a

few minutes before recognizing me.

I was already leaving when Dario insisted on taking a picture of his grand daughter.

When I gave him the picture the next day, he told me that this was the first picture of her.

Im so stupid, I dont remember her name.


16/24

16

photo by Seydou Grpinet


17/24

17

sculpture by Roman Dziadkiewicz


18/24

18

photo and drawing by Julie Chovin


19/24

19

The so called "kopjafa" is a traditional grave-sign of an ethnic group of Hungarians called the "szkely" in Transylvania

(Hungarian: Erdly or German: Siebenbrgen). Szkelys (Romanian: Secui, German: Szekler, Latin: Siculi)

used to serve as the borderguards of Medieval and early modern Hungary, and they still form a majority in certain parts of

South Eastern Transylvania.

There are a number of "kopjafa" to be found in the cemetery in the center of Cluj (Hungarian: Kolozsvr), where the photos

were taken.

The carved wooden signs on graves have symbolic meaning - the way they are carved refer to the person who is buried there,

and the column itself in tis shape symbolises a human, with a "head", "body", etc. E.g. a star can refer to a man, a tulip to a

female, while a crown can refer to a leading personality, while a mace (weapon) to a person with a war-experience.

Flames can symbolise a wise man or woman, while there were of course religious elements as well - cross, turban, etc. Below,

text was also occasionally carved, sometimes with ancient Hungarian "rovsrs" (runic writing).

Graves and symbols

text and photo byLszl Milutinovits


20/24

20

1

In Cracow, where every few

years people can hear about acts

of extreme violence, in 1998

there was a brutal murder. The

victim was a young woman.

Police haven't yet found the

perpetrator of this crime. I

became interested in that case

more than a year ago, when one

of my friends, I do not remember

who, said that the vampire from

Cracow again revealed. I was

then the assistant of Krystian

Lupa, who had prepared at the

stage of Stary Teatr (The Old

Theatre) the stage performance

inspired by the Alfred Kubin's

novel The Other Side. A friend of

the narrator from the childhood

formed his own state, called

the State of the Dream. In the

State of the Dream having a new

items and tools and building a

new architecture are forbidden:houses, ordinary objects, works

of art are imported from Europe

and must be created before 1870

(sixties of 19th century are a

limitation; Kubin published a

novel in 1909). These homes

are likely to be marked by

crimes, death, loss, evil, Lupa

understood it in this way. In

addition, the memory, stored in

places and buildings which are

not only a part of the architecture

or of the urban space, leads into

real collapse.

On the rehearsal, I repeated the

rumor the vampire killer and

possibly a ripper, which could

not be identified, returned. After

years again revealed. The rumor

caused a stir, especially among

actresses. Then I started to makea research for the more precise

informations. It turned out that

the investigators were found

only traces of the murderer,

nicknamed "Furrier from Cracow". The victim: Katarzyna

Z., 23 years old, a student of religion studies.

November 12, 1998. Katarzyna made an appointment with

her mother in Nowa Huta. They had to go on a visit to the

doctor. Mother was waiting in the clinic. The daughter didn't

come. Mother reported her missing to the police. When

the case after twelve years suddenly again became public,

the press reported information that Katarzyna had left the

house every day going to the university, but didn't take a

part in any classes. Apparently nobody knows what she was

Transcarpatium: The Victim of Furrier from Cracow

Story of brutal act of violence in Cracow:Furrier took a skin from his victim.

doing at this time. According

to the simplified portrait

presented in newspaper

articles, Katarzyna was a

shy girl and changed studies

several times. At the beginning

she studied psychology.

After the psychology she

started to study the story, but

again she decided to resign.

Finally, she decided to study

religious studies, the direction

which at the Jagiellonian

University enjoys a reputation

as a community of people

experimenting with drugs

used in shamanic rituals: it

applies to both students and

professors. The rumor about

the experiments comes from

my former roommates, who,

as it seems, this year will

graduate at the Institute of

Religious Studies. The circleof people experimenting

with drugs in Krakow is a

broader, drugs in some way

is a factor that co-creates

their identity: the identity

of the young intellectuals.

New patron of the movement

would be Walter Benjamin.

Another one: Stanislaw Ignacy

Witkiewicz, aka Witkacy.

Drugs are not suitable for

the writing of the narrative.

Benjamin and Witkacy's

writings are nothing more

than writings, literature

descriptions. The drugs are

distilled in a paper, nothing

can be saved, experience

eludes description.

to be continued ...

text by Jaroslaw Wjtowicz

photo by Marta Jonville


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21

photo by Judit Kurtg


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22

by Lukasz Jastrubczakin accompanied by Tomas Matauko

Several motives on letter S- sculptures


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write hereor dont

write


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Deadline staff:

Valrie de Saint-Do = editor

Tomas Matauko = co-editorukasz Jastrubczak = design & layout

list of participants of the project:

Agata Dutkowska

Alexis Emery-Dufoug

Beta Kolbaovsk

Cristina David

Desmesure collective / Agathe & Fred

Edyta Masior

Filip Przybyko

Guillaume du Boisbaudry

Jan SowaJarosaw Wjtowicz

Joanna Bednarczyk

Judit Kurtg

Julie Chovin

Kubo Pisek

Lszl Milutinovits

Lujza Magov

ukasz Jastrubczak

Magorzata M. Dudek

Marek Mardosewicz

Marta Jonville

Mathieu Lericq

Nils Clouzeau

Palce Lizac Dominika & Barbara

Paul Maquaire

Roman Dziadkiewicz

Seydou Grpinet

Simon Quheillard

Thomas Desmaison

Tomas Matauko

Valrie de Saint-Do

edition of 200 copies / july 2013 Cluj-Napoca

http://blog.mecanismespourentente.eu

,

deadline 0

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