September 20 the bi-annual Equinox festival took place in Dordrecht. This is a performancefestival organised by 222lodge, a local artists initiative. I try to perform everytime although I am not in the Netherlands sometimes . This time I was there with the performance “In search of my lost saviour”, originating in memories from my childhood in Noordwijk.
In 1982 – 1984 I wrote down a number of those memories and painted them on unprepared cotton which I put on the wall. Before I made pictures of the locations where these memories took place, copied the pictures on A4 paper and covered that with caperol, a layer that would not be damaged by oilpaint. I glued the photographs on the canvas and over it I painted the memory, leaving part of the Photographs uncovered.
One memory handled about a dream, a situation where I was attacked by boys with sticks and stones, for whom I fled. At night I was wakened by a black boy who stood on a ladder at my sleeping room window to save me from those boys who were banging at our front door. Suddenly they were black also and the boy at my window said he was my friend and wanted to save me. He had feathers in his hair and was clad in nothing but a loin cloth. He said he was my friend and took me over his shoulder to ran away from my family home. I don’t remember more but the painting above is how I painted him.
The performance was intended to let the above shown painting in the water on the side of the performance site, but the place I had in mind was occupied by kids fishing and there were boats coming by regularly. I improvised immediately and decided to put the painting on the sidewalk and start fishing for it there. The image would work anyway. Then I covered myself with a large coat and as I expected the public to ask me what I was doing, I wanted to whisper “come into my tent” and cover the one who was asking and myself with the coat. Thus I would tell him that I was looking for my friend because there is an enemy again. I would ask him to take my hand and look for my friend together.
I included elements from other memories, like the crossed candles referring to the difficulties to express myself when I was young. As a catholic I would receive a yearly blessing for throat trouble which would be spoken out with the crossed candles on my throat. The coloured balloons referred to companies going around in a cart with horses in front of it. The cart was called a Jan van Gent and I always found the people on it radiated an obligatory merriness, it had a touch of drama for me. Because of this I let the balloons explode, I always found an empty balloon hanging down to express a certain sadness which relativizes a lot.
