tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30291807819765976432024-03-06T05:29:54.105-03:00Serendipitous Misadventuresnichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.comBlogger213125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-10840174758384101392013-12-15T00:29:00.001-03:002013-12-20T03:47:03.497-03:00Guests and Gifts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The homestead gate opens. A man holding a small boy's hand walks through. The man has the little boy's colorful backpack in his other hand. He greets Anne with a big handshake. She laughs and her boys come running in to greet their cousin. We walk over to Eve's house. The man is Eve's brother-in-law, Mom's son. He, Simon, lives in the city and has come for a visit. Simon reaches into the colorful backpack and hands small bags of peanuts to Paul and Daniel, a lollipop to Eve, and a hard candy to me. By the looks of it, this piece of candy has been in that boy's backpack for a very long time. As everyone else unwraps theirs sweets to chomp down, I follow suit.<br />
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After Eve and Simon have had a short conversation in Kikuyu, he asks me in English, "You don't speak Swahili?" There is a small exchange about my inability to speak Swahili, though feeling inadequate I do mention that I speak other languages. Though, eventually I say, "Kidogo" (a little). Hoping that will suffice.<br />
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"100 bob?" He asks matter-of-factly.<br />
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I am confused and think that maybe I didn't understand him correctly. He repeats himself.<br />
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"No," I respond just as matter-of-factly.<br />
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"50 bob?"<br />
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"No."<br />
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"You don't have?" he asks.<br />
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"No. What I have is for Anne and your mother." Despite my initial apprehension of actually paying my participants, I learned very soon after my arrival that guests are expected to arrive with gifts. Traveling with pounds of flour and sugar are heavy. So, following advice of Kenyans, I decided to not only bring sweets on arrival but also give money to my participants (and new Kenyan families) upon my departure as a gesture of appreciation.<br />
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"How much?" he questions.<br />
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"That is between me and them," I tell him.<br />
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"10 bob?" He requests.<br />
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I shake my head at him.<br />
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"You don't have?" He asks in utter disbelief. "I want to smoke"<br />
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I look at him blankly.<br />
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"I want to smoke." He repeats.<br />
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"No."<br />
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"I want to smoke. 10 bob."<br />
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"No."<br />
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I say good-bye and pass Mom as she enters Eve's land.<br />
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<br />nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-87033834042763509282013-08-25T19:34:00.002-04:002013-12-20T03:47:26.671-03:00In stereo<br />
I need to skip ahead to Saturday evening and go back to the neighborhood walk later. Jane, the kids' mother, called to say that she would be late. And because she had promised me a traditional Kikuyu dish, the girls - Damaris, their daughter, and Esther, the house help - would have to make it instead. She sent them the directions via SMS.<br />
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The three of us chatted while we prepared lunch together, which was when I found out that Esther was only one year older than Damaris, and also that Esther had only been working for them for the last nine months. Since Damaris had been away at boarding school, the girls must have only just met a month or so ago, when Damaris had returned. During lunch it was obvious that they were friendly - despite being from different ethnic tribes and, of course, the class difference. While we - and I really mean the two of them - made dinner it was abundantly clear that the two were actually quite close. There were giggles and shared knowing looks. 'Thick as thieves' one might say from watching them cook.<br />
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Damaris dictated the steps to Esther from the text message. Previously Esther had pealed and cut plantains, but it turned out that they weren't needed. Instead they were put in water and then placed in the fridge. The recipe only called for yams, squash, and kidney beans. The yams and squash were boiled together.<br />
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Today was the third day without running water, and since this morning we were out of drinking water. Jane had promised to pick some up on her way home. But because Damaris, Kirioki, and I had had our adventure in the neighborhood today, we were all parched. Kirioki decided to suck on ice cubes, but when he pulled the tray from the freezer it was covered in frost. He got out a knife and started to pick away at it. At the same time Esther started cutting up cabbage in her hand. There was that rhythm again: schka schka schka, schka schka schka... but this time it was in stereo.<br />
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I looked up from watching Esther's chopping and saw Damaris and Kirioki on either side of the fridge. Both sitting on the floor with their knees pulled in. Damaris and Esther continue to talk and laugh in Swahili. Kirioki munches on his ice, as all three of us wait for the woman of the house to return to quench our thirst.<br />
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<em style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; text-align: center;">Nicole Rademacher was in Kenya during the first part of 2012 doing research and documentation for her current project investigating domestic ritual (made possible by the <a href="http://www.artsandscience.org/" style="color: #1b703a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">North Carolina Arts Council</a>, USA and many private donars/patrons).</em>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-73015924689056227002013-03-15T19:36:00.001-03:002013-03-15T19:37:12.635-03:00Walking down the street near my house...A Korean woman flags me down. As she approaches she says:
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<i>Mama, [something in Korean] apartment open. [Something in Korean] 2,000.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I politely declined and thought: I like her gusto! And the fact that she called me "mama."nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-27882015517904338792013-03-11T20:04:00.000-03:002013-08-16T01:31:26.978-04:00From my Studio to yours!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-gsbPGVwVBzRezEDPv1vUnbfW4yGbkm7ETP_Ct_Nli4GEYOCyGDbcHVo4EWqpuXMj4i8P3kYwuzqYALA6c0HVIuR9bxSOnUvgc7L4my7JDKuI4kY9SBZVWCyaqafaUFs-BAXI5hRuHUFc/s1600/DSC_5793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-gsbPGVwVBzRezEDPv1vUnbfW4yGbkm7ETP_Ct_Nli4GEYOCyGDbcHVo4EWqpuXMj4i8P3kYwuzqYALA6c0HVIuR9bxSOnUvgc7L4my7JDKuI4kY9SBZVWCyaqafaUFs-BAXI5hRuHUFc/s640/DSC_5793.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">from Field Note Installation, One (2013)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Yep, I've got lots of new work to share with you!</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am nearing completion on one of the projects from my time in Kenya. It's working title is <i>Facing Inside Surfaces</i>, consists of a video installation and a photo/sound installation (photo above is part of that), and <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">is an investigation of</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">space and privacy</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="color: #222222;">in the central province of Kenyan via the omnipresent gate. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="color: #222222;">I'm starting to set up studio visits via Skype (Skype name: nicolerademacher.com). Please let me know if you are interested. I would love to show you what I have been up to.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="color: #222222;">Additionally, I want to see what other artists have been getting into. In the next couple weeks I will be physically visiting studios of local L.A. artists as well as doing studio visits via Skype. I'll be sure to keep you abreast on all the info!</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="color: #222222;">Thanks for your continued support.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></span>
<em style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Research and documentation for this project made possible by the <a href="http://www.artsandscience.org/" style="color: #1b703a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">North Carolina Arts Council</a>, USA and many private donars/patrons.</span></em>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-83696782614667555692012-09-04T18:20:00.000-03:002012-09-04T18:20:26.856-03:00Yes, it is updated!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span id="goog_1380923201"></span><span id="goog_1380923202"></span>Have you visited <a href="http://nicolerademacher.com/" target="_blank">my site</a> recently? I know, I have been silent for a bit - but I've been busy!<br />
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As you should know by now, my website is in constant reconstruction. This time I have reformatted the layout and made it more "user-friendly" for you. Have a <a href="http://nicolerademacher.com/" target="_blank">look</a>! You'll get a sneak-peek to some of the work from the Kenya residency.<br />
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More news to come - with the recent move to L.A., things are getting exciting!! (I hear that people in L.A. over-use the "!", is this founded? If so, I may have found my crowd - ha!)<br />
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Thanks for your support ... warm wishes to you all.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-73855924476342261542012-07-19T19:27:00.001-04:002012-07-19T19:28:37.263-04:00¡ TEASER Inti-Illimani TEASER !<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Bxtzi1YbAoI" width="560"></iframe><br />
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Above is a short teaser for the new music video of <a href="http://inti-illimani.cl/" target="_blank">Inti-Illimani</a>. They've got a hot new song, La Siembra, that they wrote together with Chilean musician <a href="http://www.myspace.com/nanostern" target="_blank">Nano Stern</a> that talks about society and fighting to keep the truth alive.<br />
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This Saturday they are filming the music video, directed by <a href="http://matiasmr.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Matías Muñoz R</a>., to be premiered next month!!<br />
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I've been asked to do the Making-Of, which I am rather excited about, especially because it is small way for me to thank them for being so generous with their talents earlier this year.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-62167379849058069212012-05-14T20:14:00.001-04:002012-05-14T20:14:48.336-04:00Being invisible in the pitch-blackIn the small mud-floored kitchen, around the kitchen fire bordered by 3 large stones (to put the pots on), the middle son is home with his 8 year-old for a visit. The three adults discuss life, the city, work - or lack-thereof. The 2 grandsons that live on the homestead are seated there as well, with their cousin, quietly listening to the adult conversation. One of the boys sings, but it is barely heard; the others dig their feet into the ground and fidget. But I can only imagine this based on the conversation in a language that I don't understand that comes billowing out of the barely open door and the small square window. The conversation is accompanied by the suffocating smoke from the kitchen fire, fighting for a place to escape from the confines of the small space.<br />
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I steal understandings of bits of words and, of course, proper names like the capital city where the son now lives, with his wife and son in the second largest urban slum on the continent, barely making ends-meet. I stand just a few meters from the wood building, looking up through the rainclouds of the Long Rains season through the pitch-black to a few constellations, barely visible. I look back at the square-shaped room with an orange burning light shining through not only the cracked door and window, but also the open slats that let the rain in this morning while we watched the water heating for our baths.<br />
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The conversation is familiar, one that I have had with my own parents in their kitchen during one of my countless visits home. There is a relay back and forth of question-answer, then intermittently the son explains further or the mother continues on a monologue asking and comparing, hoping to glean a bit more about her son's life that is not so unfamiliar to her, she is from a city near by, not the capital, but she is no stranger to the hustle and bustle, but perhaps she has forgotten all of that. Perhaps the forty-some years that she has spent in the high rolling hills tending to their farm and dairy cows, perhaps this less-busy life has allowed her to forget the hand-to-mouth that she, presumably, once lived.<br />
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The oldest of the grandsons pops out and I quickly change my gaze back to the sky again, attempting to make myself invisible. Though the night is so dark with no moonlight and no artificial light for miles, at least to the closest town, being invisible isn't so difficult. Then I remember the conversation I had with the shopkeeper today when we made the hike to town for supplies that cannot be reaped from their land, power had been out in the town for the last 2 days - no mobile charging, no television, only the police station, with their noisy generator, could be seen with their lights on at night. The grandson dumps some water and with a clang grabs something from under the chicken coop and glides back into the warm kitchen shutting the door just a few centimeters more behind him.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-25904665052213009752012-04-15T16:29:00.000-03:002012-04-15T16:29:58.883-03:00How long is ten years?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIkJQmjDjsU9b8I7mqKKE_WSpgA5MZD9zlGRpwMrN_J-IlUJw3wVVqbWY-GnzvLJ9FcZ7spuyCayAeN0eQfS5tiFqQD_6UNbSCO3wj7OnCHiXHkH2rnryqfRXhlyevnGIUcneXe-Xr4WGA/s1600/10years.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIkJQmjDjsU9b8I7mqKKE_WSpgA5MZD9zlGRpwMrN_J-IlUJw3wVVqbWY-GnzvLJ9FcZ7spuyCayAeN0eQfS5tiFqQD_6UNbSCO3wj7OnCHiXHkH2rnryqfRXhlyevnGIUcneXe-Xr4WGA/s1600/10years.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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'So he is your husband?' I ask. She nods yes.<br />
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'How many years have you been married?' I carefully choose my words; her English is quite limited (please note that my Swahili still only consists of pleasantries and my Kikuyu only happens by accident), and if I have learned nothing else from teaching English and living abroad for so long, I have definitely learned how to grade my language and construct sentences so that communication happens and less <i>???</i>s occur.<br />
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'10 years', she responds.<br />
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*Anne is a slight woman, and, to be honest, when I met her the day prior I thought she was an older grandson in the family. I had failed to notice that she was wearing a long skirt below her billowing boy-sweater. Given the short hair, and the fact that in this small village at a very high altitude everyone wears winter caps, a skirt can often be the only way of telling the sex of children ... and very slight women.<br />
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Ten years seemed like a lot to me. I've realized that Kenyans can be very deceiving with their age (I mentioned this in my first post from Kenya). She also told me that she is 28, her oldest of two children is 9, and that she is from a small town very far away so she never sees her family. Ten years still seems like a long time to me.<br />
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The milk is at a rolling boil, and she adds the tea and stirs.<br />
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'Yes, 10 years,' she repeats and laughs. She seems to be a generally happy person, and around me almost everything that I do or say deserves a laugh. Sometimes even her own response deserves a laugh.<br />
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She pulls the pot off the fire using only bits of cardboard as oven mitts to protect her not-so-delicate fingers. She sets the pot on the mud floor and places a new pot on the fire and fills it with fresh water that she had fetched from the well in the morning. The family is lucky to have the well on their homestead. I've seen many women and girls carrying large 10 gallon jugs (at least I think it is 10 gallons) of water using a strap that is placed around their forehead, thus carrying the jug on their backs. Despite what, in my Western eyes, may be considered poor conditions, the family seems to do quite well for themselves.<br />
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She grabs a teapot and strainer from the free-standing cupboard with mismatched doors and pours the <i>chai, </i>in a not-so-careful manner, from the pot through the strainer into the teapot. As she calls telling the others to come because the afternoon <i>chai</i> is ready, she tosses the dirty silverware and some small dishes from lunch into the soon-to-be dishwater warming on the fire.<br />
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*Name changed for privacy<br />
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<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; text-align: center;"><em>Nicole Rademacher is a currently in Kenya until the beginning of May doing research and documentation for her current project investigating domestic ritual (made possible by the <a href="http://www.artsandscience.org/" style="color: #1b703a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">North Carolina Arts Council</a>, USA and many private donars/patrons).</em></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; text-align: center;"><em><a data-mce-href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com" href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com/" style="color: #1b703a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">official website</span></a> • <a data-mce-href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" style="color: #1b703a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">follow her project on Facebook</span></a></em></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-48049635918845877622012-04-04T11:38:00.002-03:002012-04-04T11:51:30.267-03:00On the way<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHOr8FdK7sC7MXC7ehj22fmzAffgFBlsnbIesN3Hf2a9w57QNPPlbMEBWIbH1NYGoiVM8r5vhG0xR99Ropvcb28HKjR4paIhbCF9-icdwgMICMjy7P4GcQJP6-hTiBMmr-CSOZyarMTb_/s1600/toFourteen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHOr8FdK7sC7MXC7ehj22fmzAffgFBlsnbIesN3Hf2a9w57QNPPlbMEBWIbH1NYGoiVM8r5vhG0xR99Ropvcb28HKjR4paIhbCF9-icdwgMICMjy7P4GcQJP6-hTiBMmr-CSOZyarMTb_/s1600/toFourteen.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It seems that every school child knows how to say "How are you?" It is a chant they do. A mzungu (white person, literally translated to "wanderer") is on the street and all the school children immediately begin the chant "ouryou?" and repeat. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yes, endearing at first, and perhaps I even responded, fine and you? when I first arrived. But now, I dismiss them, knowing that it is a rote response. But there are those children that actually engage - or attempt to - in conversation; the ones that smile coily, that are actually curious and looking for some type of interaction. I smile back at them, wave, sometimes shake their hands.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Often the school children follow you, especially in less populated areas. Are they protecting you? Probably just interested in the wanderers. Makes me wonder how I must appear to them. The westerner I am, "diversity" is something that I don't really notice until it isn't there. Furthermore, I was always taught "not to stare" or to ignore those that were significantly "different". Here they stare, call out to you (yes, "OBAMA" has even been shouted to me, though I don't think it was because they suspected that I was American).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The most charming account of this that I can share was on the bus. As I was sitting in the aisle near the middle of the bus, I made a point to check out all of my fellow passengers going by. Almost immediately after a mother with a baby wrapped in a kanga and another daughter by hand passed by, I felt a tug at the back of my head. I looked behind me, but all I saw were backs. The ride was uneventful, but at Kenyatta Hospital (near the end of my trip and a very busy stop), I again watched the other passengers as they left. The mother passed by and at the same time I felt a tug. Promptly I turned to see the culprit: the oldest of the woman's two daughters, no more than 7 or 8. I smiled at her. She bashfully looked away, and scrambled to catch up with her mother and younger sister.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-69628668102238750502012-03-27T04:13:00.002-03:002012-03-27T04:27:50.241-03:00Black onions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRdDnInjGEYYEsxZf5tim5m59YTlGgvmJaU-VPjN2BcM98bT28KSeFwfdKVwgRjZbRFcl0ePFNiykLciEHOe_ofHBV3rW-iEEw9fggrVPp5D8i7i3QFBMR0GW_Ts-hKH66ZYz2NegtWR8/s1600/nota05picB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRdDnInjGEYYEsxZf5tim5m59YTlGgvmJaU-VPjN2BcM98bT28KSeFwfdKVwgRjZbRFcl0ePFNiykLciEHOe_ofHBV3rW-iEEw9fggrVPp5D8i7i3QFBMR0GW_Ts-hKH66ZYz2NegtWR8/s1600/nota05picB.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">First she peels them, and then she grates them. She is *Faith the “house help”. Kenyans don’t like skins, she explains. Actually, she tells me, Kenyans don’t eat chopped carrots. She says that in her own family, as well, she would have to grate the carrots in order to cook them – even though carrots are grown here, she defends. She’s young, maybe 25, but has rarely been outside the kitchen. I am surprised that she is working in this particular home because she is from a different tribe than the family. Perhaps the mother is from the same tribe, but I can’t discern. A girl is from where her father is from until she gets married, at that time her husband’s homeland becomes hers. Names are changed easily, going back only three generations. Oral history carries more weight.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She tells me about her older brother, gentle, intelligent, went to university. He died at a young age, but was a very finicky eater - never eating carrots, greens, or onions. Once Faith was old enough to cook, she learned how to burn the onions so that he could easily identify them and pick them out. Until he left for university, she recounts, they never ate greens in the house and only grated carrots and black onions.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Name changed for privacy.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><em>Nicole Rademacher is a currently in Kenya until the beginning of May doing research and documentation for her current project investigating domestic ritual (made possible by the <a href="http://www.artsandscience.org/" target="_blank">North Carolina Arts Council</a>, USA and many private donars/patrons).</em></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><em><a data-mce-href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com" href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">official website</span></a> • <a data-mce-href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">follow her project on Facebook</span></a></em></span></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-86636409391253034872012-03-12T07:13:00.000-03:002012-03-12T07:13:09.532-03:00Kenya Notes on hold ...Hi! Technical difficulties have caused a temporary hold on the reports during my time in Kenya. More to come soon, and please send me feedback!<br />
hugs ...nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-84827289468560348642012-02-29T18:46:00.001-03:002012-03-01T14:52:32.204-03:00Wash Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFaDjDcfFisF3zQBxWnIeU_X7C727FA97GRMHRGrHyySOa6ji0hC_lSTUxtRi2kcsGWltxt0bkN4td7MWuAz_8MiXsatU6sT3naQm0E8yx5AA2RtkLH6sZybNsUDjENnaK0-G-KNYHHhL/s1600/laundry001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFaDjDcfFisF3zQBxWnIeU_X7C727FA97GRMHRGrHyySOa6ji0hC_lSTUxtRi2kcsGWltxt0bkN4td7MWuAz_8MiXsatU6sT3naQm0E8yx5AA2RtkLH6sZybNsUDjENnaK0-G-KNYHHhL/s1600/laundry001.jpg" /></a></div><br />
*Esther washes all the clothes on Saturdays. "I don't have help come in, so Saturday is the only day that I can wash everything." Almost immediately she retracks the "everything" and explains that the heavy clothes are washed on Saturdays, but the other clothes, the "light clothing", is washed during the week - "a bit every day".<br />
<br />
Assuming that she does not have a washing machine (I have yet to see a machine in even the middle-class homes), I try to calculate in my mind how long it must take her to wash the clothes and bedding for a family of three, by hand.<br />
<br />
Everything is scrubbed with brushes, and many of the women who come in as housekeepers scrub too hard and ruin the clothes; this is why she prefers to wash everything herself. Esther has a 23 year-old daughter and shows me a photo of her on her smart phone. She tells me that she is finishing her studies, but she requires her to wash her own clothes. The loads are getting lighter, but I am still having a hard time calculating the hours it must take.<br />
<br />
When I arrive at her house for the first time, it is a Sunday evening - after church. We enter the metal main door of the building and make our way up the dimly lit concrete stairs. Turning left at the first landing, I am greeted with, at least, one woman per doorway scrubbing and dunking, scrubbing and dunking, scrubbing and dunking. Clothes are hung on thin rope strung between walkways. A lulling chatter fills the hallway, accompanying the scrub-dunk rhythm kept by the same busy ladies.<br />
<br />
The socialization built into the lives of Nairobians keeps me bewildered. I have been conditioned to segregate, categorize, and compartmentalize, making time for everything through strategic decision.<br />
<br />
*Name changed for privacy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><em>Nicole Rademacher is a currently in Nairobi, Kenya until the beginning of May doing research and documentation for her current project investigating domestic ritual (made possible by the <a href="http://www.artsandscience.org/" target="_blank">North Carolina Arts Council</a>, USA and many private donars/patrons).</em></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><em><a data-mce-href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com" href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">official website</span></a> • <a data-mce-href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">follow her project on Facebook</span></a></em></span></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-63312928443372600012012-02-23T02:04:00.001-03:002012-03-01T14:52:21.197-03:00On the street<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgclObrnBQhnKBsOC7vvnYI5GhzgOF4x6i0s81EcINAekcF76BO-22AtMrgTV0lRUwtLBafo8hd_AAIk-V9emzHlaPJ2Qi1QMvCj9Py-o8c85TGd2ywVx_zeGQgiGaE1FzjyGg-eZsGuwUi/s1600/onTheStreet001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgclObrnBQhnKBsOC7vvnYI5GhzgOF4x6i0s81EcINAekcF76BO-22AtMrgTV0lRUwtLBafo8hd_AAIk-V9emzHlaPJ2Qi1QMvCj9Py-o8c85TGd2ywVx_zeGQgiGaE1FzjyGg-eZsGuwUi/s1600/onTheStreet001.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahri5l7t25_ZSbQ1i0zogW2ESbXhsvMRlTq_Stckos000d1pFAiNkfGnHPWKI5WgTsceQBKIx-eC-c5CauRtDSRtfAED1c0IKCTFp2aeMuppRZuJNpKdDDlQTwEQ5AhfYR5B1hA6ZCgaX/s1600/onTheStreet002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahri5l7t25_ZSbQ1i0zogW2ESbXhsvMRlTq_Stckos000d1pFAiNkfGnHPWKI5WgTsceQBKIx-eC-c5CauRtDSRtfAED1c0IKCTFp2aeMuppRZuJNpKdDDlQTwEQ5AhfYR5B1hA6ZCgaX/s1600/onTheStreet002.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
I have been very frugal in taking pictures on the street. Here are just a couple for now. From town to Mathare Valley.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><em>Nicole Rademacher is a currently in Nairobi, Kenya until the beginning of May doing research and documentation for her current project investigating domestic ritual (made possible by the <a href="http://www.artsandscience.org/" target="_blank">North Carolina Arts Council</a>, USA and many private donars/patrons).</em></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><em><a data-mce-href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com" href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">official website</span></a> • <a data-mce-href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">follow her project on Facebook</span></a></em></span></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-83201874240951539212012-02-22T17:17:00.001-03:002013-12-15T00:35:04.145-03:00A third note from KenyaIn Nairobi, you can make time stand still. I'm contemplating the stationary second hand on the watch of the woman next to me. She quietly stares at the people who are not frozen; the men with wide gaits moving swiftly, and the women passing us less hurriedly in pairs or groups of three unassumingly chatting in their dress suits and heels. They will all most certainly get to their homes before we do, but our existence has been suspended on the #40 Citi Hoppa bus to Ngumo.<br />
<br />
I am surprised that I don't hear Hot 105 pumping through the speakers promoting "1 second can win you 1,000 bob" (Kenyan slang for Kenyan schilling). Instead my attention is shaken from the motionless second hand by the jangle of coins in the conductor's hand. I look up and he tells me, "40 bob" in little more than a whisper. Despite the cosmopolitan hustle and bustle, the capital city can be quite taciturn using gesture to communicate. He collects our fares and passes me 2 tickets separated by a perforation.<br />
<br />
As I hand her her ticket, I steal a glance at my neighbor's watch, but the second hand is stubborn; the bus driver turns off the engine and activates the parking break. The woman across the aisle sighs as she turns the page in her book about the habits of being efficient. The man in front of her relaxes further into his seat as a breeze cuts through the bus bringing with it the exhaust from the other cars and buses in the parking lot that is sometimes Valley Road.<br />
<br />
I close my eyes so as to attune my ears to the murmur of a conversation behind me, hoping to glean a detail or two about their lives.<br />
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<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><em>Nicole Rademacher is a currently in Nairobi, Kenya until the beginning of May doing research and documentation for her current project investigating domestic ritual (made possible by the <a href="http://www.artsandscience.org/" target="_blank">North Carolina Arts Council</a>, USA and many private donars/patrons).</em></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><em><a data-mce-href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com" href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">official website</span></a> • <a data-mce-href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">follow her project on Facebook</span></a></em></span></div>
nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-28941079839145437862012-02-22T05:57:00.000-03:002012-02-22T05:57:08.676-03:00Interview with Alain Cavalier (in prep for his retrospective at the Independent Film Fest in BCN)<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/e0ToB4szMso" width="480"></iframe><br />
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In French with Spanish subtitles - sorry anglophones ...nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-71131434442700617122012-02-15T14:04:00.001-03:002012-03-01T14:51:51.811-03:00Cooking*Wanjiru doesn't like to cook, but she has been cooking her whole life, she tells me bluntly as she picks through the red mung bean (a bean that I will become very accustomed to during my time here as it appears at many meals). I am surprised that she doesn't like cooking, only because cooking to me is a joy; it's a hobby of mine. I ask about her hobbies. She doesn't have any. After finishing sorting the usable from the not-usable, she proceeds to the kitchen to wash and strain them.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyUVaqU_w21YZr4TgnffHoQy09rs0ckDBdX5cunnsSprsayvAQFeh7V6COJCh9rAToOwLUGeM7PVMtHzDxI1REwZr40wynDR_WNuARYRcj5bXkeFezg7NzFaVGQq1l7WJVt3JMvwUsVJ3/s1600/lunch002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyUVaqU_w21YZr4TgnffHoQy09rs0ckDBdX5cunnsSprsayvAQFeh7V6COJCh9rAToOwLUGeM7PVMtHzDxI1REwZr40wynDR_WNuARYRcj5bXkeFezg7NzFaVGQq1l7WJVt3JMvwUsVJ3/s1600/lunch002.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
While her English is perfect, the dialect here takes some getting used to for me. When asked her favorite meat, Wanjiru promptly responds "<i>leaver</i>". I give her a confused look and wonder if she told me in Swahili, certain food is commonly known in its Swahili name rather than in English.<br />
<br />
She proceeds to spell it,<i> L-I-V-</i><br />
<br />
- <i>Ahhhh</i>, I say before she can finish,<i> Liver!</i> I repeat, as if correcting her. Am I correcting her?<br />
<br />
I'm immediately ashamed for having said it in that fashion, but try to disguise it by asking her, <i>Beef or pork?</i><br />
<br />
With a scornful look she says, <i>Beef! Not pork</i>, and she gives me a disdainful grimace while shaking her head.<br />
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After washing and straining she lets the beans soak overnight, but says that she will have to get up at 6 am in order to cook them - she doesn't normally cook on Sundays, it's sabbath. Curiously I ask her about her plan for Sunday.<br />
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<i>Usually, I go to church from 10:30 am to 1pm</i>, she explains.<br />
<br />
It's not that Wanjiru isn't forthcoming with information, but she simply doesn't tell me much unless I explicitly ask her. So, I pry further: <i>Do you come home after church?</i><br />
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No, she tells me that afterwards she either goes and visits with her mother or visits a friend, who owns a salon in Kibera.<br />
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<i>That's enough</i>, she says almost already exhausted, <i>That's enough</i>.<br />
<br />
*Name changed for privacy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><em>Nicole Rademacher is a currently in Nairobi, Kenya until the beginning of May doing research and documentation for her current project investigating domestic ritual (made possible by the <a href="http://www.artsandscience.org/" target="_blank">North Carolina Arts Council</a>, USA and many private donars/patrons).</em></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><em><a data-mce-href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com" href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">official website</span></a> • <a data-mce-href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">follow her project on Facebook</span></a></em></span></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-9799221524332796692012-02-07T19:16:00.003-03:002012-08-29T19:13:05.287-04:00A place to start<u>PREFACE</u><br />
These posts will be in no particular order. I have created labels so that you can navigate some of the topics for my posts from Kenya:<br />
<ul>
<li>Common Ground (refers to the whole project in general, this will bring up all posts starting with the first from CDG)</li>
<li>Kenya-YouthProgram (posts associated with my work in the Mathare Valley with the youth group)</li>
<li>Kenya-Daily (posts that touch on my personal experience here living day to day)</li>
<li>Kenya-CommonGround (specific posts referring to my work on the project here in Kenya)</li>
</ul>
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<u> </u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPXIWkeHzzxP1avwY8Jbr115TAd3OApHnia0eYVKzFoWnQRH-Fz5OaeaBihHEuC5F2b5xt22LCXWDG1shelH5XnCahAPUT-o0pmt7HfDe7rP46RXs9RD-eiZ6MxdtwVn7lWYE29U4RXxo/s1600/5feb2012-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPXIWkeHzzxP1avwY8Jbr115TAd3OApHnia0eYVKzFoWnQRH-Fz5OaeaBihHEuC5F2b5xt22LCXWDG1shelH5XnCahAPUT-o0pmt7HfDe7rP46RXs9RD-eiZ6MxdtwVn7lWYE29U4RXxo/s400/5feb2012-002.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
From the house where I am staying *George, my guide for the day and now-coworker, and I took the #40 bus to the center and then took a Matatu. I'm a bit leery to take the Matatu, mainly because I don't know if I will feel ready to take one on my own next time. A Matatu is a van (seats about 15) that is a mode of public transportation. All public transportation in Nairobi has fluctuating prices but the day before Morrison, my other guide/co-worker, told me that because I am white they may decide to charge me more. Maybe when I can defend myself in Swahili I will feel more confident with the idea of taking a Matatu by myself.<br />
<br />
We take the #46 to Mathare Valley. Once we get our feet on the ground George announces it, "Mathare Valley Slum". We walk a bit further down the road to a building. He wants to show me a view of the entire slum. I find it unsettling that he continually uses that word. Perhaps it is because I am used to it being used in a derogatory manner, when really it is simply used to described sub-standard living, to describe the place. We walk behind the building and on the steps there are three children. The older sister is putting cornrows in the younger girl's hair. The little boy looks up at me, Hello, he says in English. Hi, I respond. Fine thank you, he replies. I'm a bit confused why he said that. Later I find out that what I have been taught as "hi/hello" in Swahili (habari) functions as a greeting and also asks "how are you?". George thinks that behind the building will be a good spot for a comprehensive view of Mathare Valley, but then quickly realizes that where we were before was much better. We climb back up the steps and the little boy runs after us. I vaguely hear him say something, but I can't make it out. George points and says, This is all Mathare Valley. Over there too? I ask - even though I know the answer, but it is obvious that George is proud of his home and that it is immense. Kenyans all seem to deceive their age, but it is clear that George is quite young, perhaps the same age as the other youth in the program. He is proud and happy to share his home with me. I feel very welcomed, and want to demonstrate my appreciation of his time and openess.<br />
<br />
We return to one of the entrances to the slum, close to where we de-boarded the Matatu. George opens and goes through a wooden doorway; I follow. It opens up to an open grassy area. About ten feet after the door is a shack made with scrap metal corrugated sheeting. Inside are about seven young people - well, at this point they are all young men -two in a pair, a group of three talking quitely in Swahili, and two are sitting on their own texting. I go around to greet them. I am a bit unsure about my barely existent Swahili. I say “hi” to the first young gentleman, in English. Then tells me his name, and we shake hands. In my self-conscious state I forget to return the greeting not telling him my name but simply moving on to the next person. Though I correct my mistake with the second young man and say, I'm Nicole. By the third student, I've gathered my confidence and greet him with "Habari" and follow up with "I'm Nicole".<br />
<br />
Some of the handshakes are long, I just smile and continue shaking until they let go. George steps out for a moment and the students become more animated. Several ask my name again and where I am from - which is confusing to explain. Because I mention that I live in Chile last - after stating that I am American - they stick with Chile, maybe this is because there aren't usually volunteers from Latin America. One young man knows Chile well - a big soccer fan - in fact he knows about Chile because he loves the Argentinean team. Later on, in confidence, he tells me that he really doesn't like Messi, the Argentinean soccer player, but in spite of that he's a big fan. They ask about the weather in Chile; "It's in the south. Is it summer there?" one young man asks. I tell them that when I left it was 35 degrees Celsius – they all nod their heads, agreeing that yes indeed it is summer in Chile.<br />
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More students start trickling in, and each one greets me first, since I am strategically placed right next to the door - total accident, but it served me well. They then make their way around to all of their peers. Some receive more exciting and/or complex handshakes than others. After they have greeted everyone, they take their seats and chat with their friends in Swahili. I try to make out words, but on day 2, this is difficult. One girl sits alone, not because she doesn't have friends, but because she is waiting for someone, a boy in particular. I realize this later - once the session is over - when everyone leaves the meeting room to socialize outside. I really want to talk to her because during the debate (more on that in a moment), she tried to participate several times, but the boys tended to drown her out. After the session, when I saw her intensely engaged in conversation with said boy, coyly digging her shoe into the ground, it became clear why she had been waiting on that bench before we started. There will be time to get to know her. I didn't interrupt that conversation, only observed quietly from nearby.<br />
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The debate, activity for the day's session, was lively. George asked them to think of a topic. A few sex-war topics were thrown out, then a girl said "traditional lifestyle is better than modern". The students count off 1-2-1-2 to make the teams of pro v. con.<br />
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I was well impressed with the young adults - their knowledge of current affairs, history, the environment ... There was no preparation - they separated into groups and then started with points and counter points. They discussed pollution, transportation, life expectancy, medical advances, politics ... obviously there was no fact checker, but that made it that much more impressive. Additionally it was all in English - I know that Swahili is more comfortable for them: there was one lapse into Swahili.</div>
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After the session quite a few of the students came up and introduced themselves to me. So bright and expressive. I have recently been told that they have a lot of footage - documentary of the program - that they want to edit into finished videos, but no one knows how to edit.<br />
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I welcome your thoughts and feedback. Please remember to be respectful to all who post and comment on the blog.<br />
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*I've changed all names except my own for their privacy.<br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><em>Nicole Rademacher is a currently in Nairobi, Kenya until the beginning of May doing research and documentation for her current project investigating domestic ritual (made possible by the <a href="http://www.artsandscience.org/" target="_blank">North Carolina Arts Council</a>, USA and many private donars/patrons).</em></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><em><a data-mce-href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com" href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">official website</span></a> • <a data-mce-href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">follow her project on Facebook</span></a></em></span></div>
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nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com2Nairobi, Kenya-1.2920659 36.821946199999957-1.4321254 36.619968699999959 -1.1520064 37.023923699999955tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-84792956961298646552012-02-03T05:53:00.001-03:002012-03-01T14:50:53.296-03:00SCL CDG NBO<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKggpNFbHEKVjVteaG4GKgJ9gu7Ovg2I3LLJfjJK33P-wBQLxyCjAfJP7ZGOToasUPEFHyiefNQ1zZy-9pAahc5kjXFxNxE0Z5s_JkbwecSK01cVGTiZ8YGyTmkx2-W6kRv4ngIXYL8kjt/s1600/sclcdgnbo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKggpNFbHEKVjVteaG4GKgJ9gu7Ovg2I3LLJfjJK33P-wBQLxyCjAfJP7ZGOToasUPEFHyiefNQ1zZy-9pAahc5kjXFxNxE0Z5s_JkbwecSK01cVGTiZ8YGyTmkx2-W6kRv4ngIXYL8kjt/s400/sclcdgnbo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>It's started. I can't say thank you enough to everyone who donated money, time, their musical talents, organizational talents, love, reposted on facebook, retweeted on twitter ... it has been a very gratifying experience to really make this project happen.<br />
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As some of you know in the last few months the structure of the project has changed a bit: instead of 2 months, I will be in Kenya for 3; instead of being in Osieko (Western Province) I will spend February and March in Nairobi - though in April I hope to be in a more rural area investigating and documenting surely different rituals in the country. Additionally I will be volunteering part-time with <a href="http://majimazuri.org/" target="_blank">Maji Mazuri</a> in their Youth Media Program during February and March - I start on Sunday!!! The other half of the time I will, of course, be working on Common Ground (looking for participants, building rapport with them, documenting them ...) If you know me, you know that I thrive on constantly keeping busy.<br />
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In the image is my last night's sleep - well, it was almost a whole day really. After months of non-stop fundraising, planning, organizing ... I finally got to rest in a cozy hotel during my 24-hour layover in Charles de Gaulle airport.<br />
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Right now I'm using my last 10 minutes of free internet at the airport to write this post. Hoping to convey a bit of my excitement for what I am about to embark on. Not only this project, but also the experience - culturally and personally. Thank you for giving me this opportunity. It is because of all of you that I am here. I will try to report as often as I can. Additionally my posts will be translated into Spanish and posted on <a href="http://misosoafrica.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">MisosoAfrica</a> (http://misosoafrica.wordpress.com/<a href="http://misosoafrica.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">http://misosoafrica.wordpress.com/</a>). Please repost, share, retweet ...<br />
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Warm wishes, Nicole<br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><em>Nicole Rademacher is a currently in Nairobi, Kenya until the beginning of May doing research and documentation for her current project investigating domestic ritual (made possible by the <a href="http://www.artsandscience.org/" target="_blank">North Carolina Arts Council</a>, USA and many private donars/patrons).</em></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><em><a data-mce-href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com" href="http://www.nicolerademacher.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">official website</span></a> • <a data-mce-href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" target="_blank"><span style="color: #333333;">follow her project on Facebook</span></a></em></span></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com1Charles De Gaulle Airport (CDG), Aérogare 1, 95700 Paris, France49.004 2.571100000000001348.980743499999996 2.5095385000000014 49.0272565 2.6326615000000011tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-91726210814132549202011-11-17T10:23:00.000-03:002011-11-17T10:23:16.251-03:00Common Ground: exploring domestic ritual in Kenya<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="1" height="400px" scrolling="no" src="http://www.indiegogo.com/project/widget/43753?a=194290" width="210px"></iframe></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I just did a pre-launch for an</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><a href="http://igg.me/p/43753?a=194290&i=shlk" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #1155cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" target="_blank">indiegogo campaign</a>!! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">C</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">heck out the video, I'm super proud of it!!! And</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> the campaign is now in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">OFFICIAL LAUNCH MODE</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">.</span><br />
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</div><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Help me</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b> GET THERE!!</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> Join in the fun by contributing (I have a heirarchy of "perks" set up for monetary donations - you should note that my project is sponsored by </span><a href="http://www.fracturedatlas.org/" style="color: #1155cc; font-size: 13px;" target="_blank">Fractured Atlas</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">, a non-profit arts service organization. So contributions to support Common Ground are </span><b style="font-size: 13px;">tax-deductible</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">!!) and/or spreading the word.</span><br />
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</b></div><b>JUST GO CRAZY!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and send share this post, post/tag/comment in </span><b style="font-size: 13px;">facebook</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">, </span><b style="font-size: 13px;">tweet</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> about it ...</span><br />
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<div style="font-size: 13px;">Other ways you can help is to get the word out there: word of mouth is the best!!</div><div><ul style="font-size: 13px;"><li style="margin-left: 15px;">Visit my website: <a href="http://nicolerademacher.com/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">nicolerademacher.com</a></li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;">Like me on Facebook: <a href="http://facebook.com/nic.rademacher" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">facebook.com/nic.<wbr></wbr>rademacher</a> - if you haven't already ;)</li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;">Tweet about the project and follow me on twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/nicrademacher" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">@nicrademacher</a></li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;">Follow this blog: <a href="http://nicolerademacher.blogspot.com/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">nicolerademacher.<wbr></wbr>blogspot.com</a> (I know, silly to post it here, but just in case)</li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;">Join the <a href="http://eepurl.com/gVmzX" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">my mailing list</a> to stay up-to-date on the progress of the project and my work!</li>
</ul><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT!!</span></b></div></div></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-61185682588058694762011-11-12T15:43:00.000-03:002011-11-12T15:43:50.418-03:006 - 12 November 2011What a week! Phew, glad it is over and with great results!!<br />
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First I want to share my photo contribution for this week to <a href="http://eyeseverywhere.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Eyes Everywhere</a> (see link in the side bar or just click the words). Every month there is a new theme to collaborate on - from our separate parts of the world. November is SELF PORTRAIT: IN YOUR USUAL PLACE.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Mp-IHa_Sz9hZUxYQ5bjxdl99Oh40KGhOm5Jstf5hF3ej7RzJbVJSS0x23HQPdmOTGX82PyWXuYdMQgzxZQ8OZXpj_yEOxsyr8QheyeONw1xVe7EiIxnt_mXf58PLXWTnK-zAmJZwX0th/s1600/rademacherAutoRetratowk02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Mp-IHa_Sz9hZUxYQ5bjxdl99Oh40KGhOm5Jstf5hF3ej7RzJbVJSS0x23HQPdmOTGX82PyWXuYdMQgzxZQ8OZXpj_yEOxsyr8QheyeONw1xVe7EiIxnt_mXf58PLXWTnK-zAmJZwX0th/s320/rademacherAutoRetratowk02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This photo was taken during the third shoot for my promo video for my SOON TO BE LAUNCHED indiegogo.com campaign to help raise funds so that I can GET TO KENYA... (those three dots are so that you know that more info is to come - same bat-time, same bat-channel)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.aguafuerte.cl/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/nicole_mariana-600x448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://www.aguafuerte.cl/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/nicole_mariana-600x448.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Another exciting news item : the photo above was taken yesterday at <a href="http://www.aguafuerte.cl/" target="_blank">Aguafuerte Taller de Dibujo y Grabado</a>, where I am currently an artist-in-residence - developing a series of lithographs for "Potential Spaces". But this photo is with Chilean artist <a href="http://www.galeriaespora.com/mtocornal.html" target="_blank">Mariana Tocornal</a>. I've been invited to participate in an exhibition entitled "Seis=Doce" (Six=Twelve), organized by Paula Cortés, director, <a href="http://www.galeriaespora.com/" target="_blank">Galeria Espora</a> (Santiago de Chile). The prints that Mariana and I will make (printed by master printer and Aguafuerte director <a href="http://www.ivanlecaros.com/" target="_blank">Iván Lecaros</a>) will be paired together as a diptych! Paula paired us together even though we didn't know one another before yesterday - of, that is a lie, we met briefly at a dinner party at American artist <a href="http://melissawyman.info/" target="_blank">Melissa Wyman</a>'s apartment when she was living in Santiago. Anyhow, I think Paula has great intuition. Mariana and I chatted for a long time yesterday - explaining our work and process to one another. We definitely have a lot in common, even outside of the visual similarities. I'm super excited!! More news about this show to come. P.S. other artist pairings: Melissa Wyman & Iván Lecaros, Felipe Santander & Paulo Toledo.<br />
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That's all the update for now - I think... I hope didn't forget anything, I've been doing that a lot recently. Thanks for reading! Woot woot! If you haven't already hit "like" on my <a href="http://www.facebook.com/nic.rademacher" target="_blank">facebook page</a>, please do! And tell your friends! Gonna make this residency at <a href="http://lakevictoriaarts.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Lake Victoria Arts Residency Program</a> in February/March <b>HAPPEN</b> and I am going to need all the help I can get to spread the word!<br />
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until next time ...nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-7698962855664848142011-10-14T17:02:00.000-03:002011-10-14T17:02:12.862-03:00Taller Clik<a href="http://veglobal.squarespace.com/blog/2011/10/12/taller-clik-kids-behind-the-lens.html">VE Global Blog Post</a><br />
I know, I have to make you work a bit to see it, but in the meantime, I will leave you with some nice imagery made by these super amazingly creative kids that I work with:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjyhMV3hGk-W5vdlwVpYj3kY-RycbucrYP7BQfWBB43Qfi4_fDI6yY1tBQ-t2Ym3lcDqTuqRItCCKdnm03tgCJZtlXZxfwso5FxqHw6uckWaSq_PGRYo-4DvTo6tW_-k-7KTQ1fGqHROQ/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjyhMV3hGk-W5vdlwVpYj3kY-RycbucrYP7BQfWBB43Qfi4_fDI6yY1tBQ-t2Ym3lcDqTuqRItCCKdnm03tgCJZtlXZxfwso5FxqHw6uckWaSq_PGRYo-4DvTo6tW_-k-7KTQ1fGqHROQ/s320/001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhBS15i9q3LoKUIpnhkM8X3DDVdmBYjTcqOoFD7e8tgxFy3F8Wahr6_wwkzTkGfZRBXKF30SeNghyphenhyphenIkIuZse0hBXNAdwwBbRAQAmR_dCPQdEXZxCNs4yXbNpJESylIUi_vW_1B8zqqrH2/s1600/002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhBS15i9q3LoKUIpnhkM8X3DDVdmBYjTcqOoFD7e8tgxFy3F8Wahr6_wwkzTkGfZRBXKF30SeNghyphenhyphenIkIuZse0hBXNAdwwBbRAQAmR_dCPQdEXZxCNs4yXbNpJESylIUi_vW_1B8zqqrH2/s320/002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV201UIU1A9s6XjFYzLmtxiL8AqG9yygPMh9QZchZeSsgi0quzhIktxnZcO1ezPVbSkGLOwwJEnEbNv6DFVKDDr84z8aDFSFojyIUDkio8Ciq974SgTT-ltgk0uWQXxFbBPYc1El4FkrkS/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV201UIU1A9s6XjFYzLmtxiL8AqG9yygPMh9QZchZeSsgi0quzhIktxnZcO1ezPVbSkGLOwwJEnEbNv6DFVKDDr84z8aDFSFojyIUDkio8Ciq974SgTT-ltgk0uWQXxFbBPYc1El4FkrkS/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCfqD2OC3gM1_tAv-b3DknFDudQ5XRkqaPjxEfyHSV7HhpkHDSHzjgXkUz1dhipiA0zqgw9ZZleiB3OYSwVpuGlOkzA0kdZfqi8GQbVWsroSBSD610-8GoS3xxRUmRM24BNQSYQ9cOJW8/s1600/004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCfqD2OC3gM1_tAv-b3DknFDudQ5XRkqaPjxEfyHSV7HhpkHDSHzjgXkUz1dhipiA0zqgw9ZZleiB3OYSwVpuGlOkzA0kdZfqi8GQbVWsroSBSD610-8GoS3xxRUmRM24BNQSYQ9cOJW8/s320/004.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEize2BeYvs65JGXbW_jKVliHLIyptXmVjFRuiehbPGEDZ-s-qRabVeW8z9BH5TpBmfrpglTu0dJz5JeF4e1LiNJ-ThTzAJvAXZpQoUaqwInVSIS0CC3E1VM3HeHjrv9p1lj-7dNSqT8f9Uf/s1600/007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEize2BeYvs65JGXbW_jKVliHLIyptXmVjFRuiehbPGEDZ-s-qRabVeW8z9BH5TpBmfrpglTu0dJz5JeF4e1LiNJ-ThTzAJvAXZpQoUaqwInVSIS0CC3E1VM3HeHjrv9p1lj-7dNSqT8f9Uf/s320/007.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-56991406002226505162011-10-12T13:26:00.000-03:002011-10-12T13:26:29.773-03:00Les Amoureux au Ban Public<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/2wEUFgKv5oQ" width="640"></iframe><br />
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While in Paris, Matías and I worked with two bicultural couples who are both part of this group for the Potential Spaces piece. One of these couples is featured in this documentary. Please watch.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-159448747012383132011-08-23T23:50:00.000-03:002011-08-23T23:50:37.500-03:00How to communicate in a digital age with no common language<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"></span><br />
<div><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;">From a chat conversation with my friend at an artist residency in Beijing.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;">I asked him how he was getting on communicating himself.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;">his reply (translated into English) was: </span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;">for example, when I got to eat I take pictures and if I go back ... i them to them.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4UCYm2RsTKw_0ypW6lFhzp8FJFLgai8dYwbhQK2BYvysXf7qUJtqF7MT6OiDu4eM3K9AAUyFgoClAvrUyBMlVtFghCp4F3JW2qHUW8KbZ4nRM_rijhAfNakbHOU23Qx7jRqXx6aKQxX5/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4UCYm2RsTKw_0ypW6lFhzp8FJFLgai8dYwbhQK2BYvysXf7qUJtqF7MT6OiDu4eM3K9AAUyFgoClAvrUyBMlVtFghCp4F3JW2qHUW8KbZ4nRM_rijhAfNakbHOU23Qx7jRqXx6aKQxX5/s400/Picture+1.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>"por ejemplo cuando voy a comer hago fotos del plato y si vuelvo...se la muestro"</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65987575@N03/6011654452/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/65987575@N03/6011654452/</a></i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-15757004333106177152011-06-18T20:42:00.002-04:002011-06-18T20:42:33.196-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMSZwg9BgvXi3YaI_wAu8H5RwVrKXhng_4LOWFlXPJgD3wTUdidCNFf7PGDv1r0a8Lh327XOdTkvkZBSNPsNExIcTi8KEMMTP8_bwBhutZK93KROoUj0WBfFPGSWY7I08WwqyT7fEO9-z-/s1600/simonejune2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMSZwg9BgvXi3YaI_wAu8H5RwVrKXhng_4LOWFlXPJgD3wTUdidCNFf7PGDv1r0a8Lh327XOdTkvkZBSNPsNExIcTi8KEMMTP8_bwBhutZK93KROoUj0WBfFPGSWY7I08WwqyT7fEO9-z-/s1600/simonejune2011.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3029180781976597643.post-51048738693461787962011-06-01T10:32:00.000-04:002011-06-01T10:32:47.405-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1FD7YANALqmtL4U0GnMTnD5YkiHeAa5MP4hI1LqHIKw2sIMQMBk6S4QBqnPRumPCxb7O0jtTz9WxyThdMVABV69iZEEU2JZWMvQOm3KdSWDCgS5Hw2gdwTpQfLrQngoU0tT_c_sp2vnQ/s1600/ninaParemos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1FD7YANALqmtL4U0GnMTnD5YkiHeAa5MP4hI1LqHIKw2sIMQMBk6S4QBqnPRumPCxb7O0jtTz9WxyThdMVABV69iZEEU2JZWMvQOm3KdSWDCgS5Hw2gdwTpQfLrQngoU0tT_c_sp2vnQ/s1600/ninaParemos.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Last Saturday I went to a march here, in Santiago, in support of stopping the construction of the HydroAysén in Chilean Patagonia. If you don't know what I am talking about I would tell you check out the New York Times, but from what I can tell (way down here) there has been little coverage of it in the States. Instead I'll suggest IPS News; fact there is <a href="http://ipsnews.net/news.asp?idnews=55877">an article</a> that just came out today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I took my camera with me, obviously - prepared for the worst. The protests here are usually riddled with destruction ... and tear gas. But surprisingly (and perhaps because so many children attended), it was peaceful (well, that is until night fell and the families left, but still there was less destruction than normal).</div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14884156547798610311noreply@blogger.com0