Leaving Kazan the hotel receptionist asked “How was your life?”. Arrived to Yekaterinburg by night train. Made some recordings of howling wind songs the train movement produced. They felt inviting. Funny stories were told on the way but what do they mean? What are funny stories as a praxis? Comfort or avoidance? Pondering about an artistic research method which would simultaneously engage, question and reflect (like a performance does). Our groups constant chattering feels like such but not a lot of notes are being made. Perhaps we are constantly fabulating an oral account of the trip.
Eero Yli-Vakkuri