Filer les Tangentes - Spin The Tangents

Filer Les Tangentes is an artistic performance on a bicycle. It turns in a flagid loop through a space with invisible borders. This journey seeks encounters and inspirations in the first quarter of a century that will be upheavals. It delves into the roots, reproduces ancient routes, from the beginning of human migrations, to their end, to its intelligent robots, to its end. I still have neither an answer nor a point of arrival, other than a return to my roots in the land of castles and a time when the energy revolution was taking shape. Spinning the tangents will last two and a half months, from mid-June to the end of August 2023, for a distance of 5000 kilometers. Until two hundred years ago, we crossed Europe to read other stories, to encounter new techniques, even practices with other colors. We experienced the senses. In a time to soak up, reflect, think, write. I want to see if, like Erasmus, Zweig, Dürer, van Eyck, Vermeer or Vinci, Goethe or Van Gogh, we can still go to a few cities, meet a few artist friends, scholars, researchers, inventors or poets. I take the road to see if we can cross some plains, rivers and mountains. I get on the bike to find out if discovery can be around the corner. If crossing neighboring countries we can meet other colors. Today we arrive, we instagram and we return. Intelligence is artificial. The spiral of stews, the revolution of courtiers? A summer event, a daily series During the 60 days of road planned, I will publish every day, on my instagram account (https://www.instagram.com/guillaumedimanche/), a poetic text which will tell this trip, the experiences faced, the landscapes traveled, the encounters humans, animals and plants. The performance will be a document on this journey in a climate that may already be a little hostile. The dryness is evident in the sky, the floors and the basements. This adventure will seek tangible springs and oases across our continent. I hope to find refuges and energies which reflect and invent solutions in the climatic turbulences which appear and turn around us. Watch and capture life, the living, the exchange, the pleasure, the joy. A field of croaking frogs. There are still some, in the small streams and their moist and rich surroundings. A somewhat wild field swarming with insects that we no longer crush on our windshields. There are still some, they have wild flowers in the middle and around them. They feed a few more birds, who know these nature reserves. We all live together and we have to find, spin these links, live and die with them. Because locked in our intelligent and artificial glasses the moral and spiritual feelings, the physical feelings are feigned and vain. What a pleasure, what a chance to take the time. The time to face, the time to see, the time to feel, the time to travel, the time to surrender to life. We can still do it today. You can take the train for two or four hours and finish your journey on foot or by bike to reach it for two hours or two days. We will have taken a trip. We will have been modest and measured. We will have discovered and felt. We will have been alive. Tidy up, calibrated, soon on the machine for 60 days! The first axis, through eight nations, crosses the continent as did our predecessors, our ancestors, in the centuries when industries did not exist, at a pace that allows real travel and encounters. By bike, a 5 hour day is 80 kilometers. It is already crossing and, often, changing countries. The second axis of this work is to bring me to meet inhabitants, actors of the environment and biodiversity. There are a thousand gestures, a thousand actions. I am going to initiate a weaving of links between styles of a life. Documenting humans in their landscape. Every day I will publish snapshots in videos and photographs, a poetic text, which will set the stage. On June 16 I leave for València starting point to spin the tangents through my garden, by bike, by bicycle. From the Albufera Natural Park, nest of the Ring-necked Plover, a European migratory bird, I will look for a path. I go to meet ideas, possibilities, needs, care, researchers, farmers who think and do tomorrow. What nature? Is another revolution coming? The 500-year-old oak tree - Sénart forest A note of intent Link, connect. Weave. Engage the body. Engage the individual. Engage the ego. Understand the surroundings. Land on the ground. Walk. Link, connect. Weave. Uncover the fabrics. Browse and show layers. Document complex and obvious uniqueness. No sooner had we built a continent than it was already overtaken by our tools. Too many conflicts must have prevented the loving functioning of our two-headed union. The German remains the Boche. I don't know who I am. They never told me. A curmudgeon without discipline? So little exchange. We know a few of each other. But there is always another. We each wear an increasingly waterproof raincoat. Fortunately there are infiltrations. A few drops, a few cracks. Why not enter and redo this link before the borders so much missed by Stephan Zweig? From the highway to the airport we forgot the journey. Let's start to take some walks, hikes, expeditions, wanderings, surroundings at a real rhythm of the body, helped by a nice tool, the bicycle. Understand the Europe of artists and writers, from the Middle Ages to the end of the 19th century. Engage a loop, draw a flag, a rag. On this historic route, from Valence to Delft, from Salzburg to Florence and from the Vercors to Chambord, reread the history of culture. And also find on this path from Paris to Cologne, Turin and Grenoble, the culture of low tech, another counterpart of the search for humanity. Seventy-five steps to experience the poetry of the encounter and the presence of the other. Is he really there? Still visible in a few places or is it already and only replaced by a Zoom screen thumbnail or an AI image, invented by a robot to meet the standards of beauty constraint and always please? Is it already completely under the control of some American students, not cool and not young. Leonardo da Vinci worked in his various inventions and always to connect the fluids of the imagination. All his work is only syntheses to reveal the proximities of thought, poetry, science writing, creative processes and natural processes. Man does not invent anything that the laws of chemistry and physics have not already shown since the infinite birth of the universes. It will only be in the acute and profound observation of the world, in the manipulation of every natural element that, as in a work of chlorophyll rubbed on a sheet by Giuseppe Penone, we draw sap and pigment, the conditions of creation. It is in the path that the poem is generated. I take it. I will join him. I will write it down. Find friendly and lively ties Return to the banks of the Loire which saw the work of one of the greatest geniuses of humanity, after having gone around in circles in Europe. After meeting. After recording portraits, landscapes. After writing poetic stories. After touching. After being hit. To return to the edge of this still living river is to return with a thread of thoughts of craftsmen, engineers, peasants, artists, who are each a few fragments of time after the beginning of the Renaissance, today, as many inventors of poetry as the genius of the parachute and the Mona Lisa. Digital proximity is a “dead positivity” - (Byung-Chul HAN, “On the handshake”, Socialter – For a radical turn, p. 139). Leave and ride, ride and find, to get out of digital relationships, out of time and distances. It is to seek the proximity annihilated by the screens in our hands. The development of the major means of digital communication gives us the promise of optimized and radiant happiness. The one who is experimenting for the least executives, the least engineers, the low potentials, the happiness of distanced relationships and virtual travel. Services have become competitive markets. The post office no longer delivers mail. University lecture halls are empty spaces. The trains are only accessible with a digital and smart device. Medical care is operated by software. The artist, neither the philosopher, nor the poet are no longer necessary since robots, AIs invent, write, conceptualize, create. Direct and even virtual contact between individuals is obsolete and unnecessary. We remember useless activities well. The spring of 2021 is not far yet and yet we no longer know when, or really if it took place. We were all voluntarily confined. Since then, the whole new normal has been taking shape with no rejection and barely a few protest wall vomits. Piloting decisions are so complex and require so much questioning. We can easily imagine that we are, all together, in this century of general globalization, like this ship in the middle of the night and at full speed, one hundred and eleven years ago approaching the iceberg. We can even believe that we have already touched it. So the captains, obtuse and frightened, close the doors and the emergency exits. They continue, limited (the names are certainly not insignificant), speak of poems learned by heart, without sensitive spirit except a given air, and continue their work.