A Very Territory Christmas
Well, not quite - i mean, it isn’t Christmas yet, and I won’t be here for the real thing, so what you’re getting is the little pre-christmas that Sergio and Marina cooked up as a farewell-see-you-in-january mini-fete. Nevertheless the territory is beautifully warm and festive in this season, Russian tank heaters running on high (see pics) and bubble wrap working its insulating magic. We’ve had a lot of changes in the territory these past few weeks so most of us are also hoping that with the new season comes a new souffle (as sergio says in his Russin-accented franglais) for our little rabbit-hole.
We decided, at the territory, to have a gift exchange this year. A sort of secret Santa, if you will. Most will be exchanging gifts closer to the actual date, but, since i’m returning home early and for nigh on a month, I said my farewells this week. Interestingly enough, when drawing names out of “the cleaning hat” (a sort of embroidered fez that one must wear while cleaning - gratefully, I’m exempt from such activities) Marina and I unknowingly chose each other. Trying hard to stick to the 5 euro budget we set, I showed up on Wednesday with an unceremonious red-paper bag filled with Kombucha and something called “etoiles de bonne humeur” (good mood stars) that seemed to be a french version of not-chicken nuggets. In return I received a lovely ceramic figurine . . . I think I might place it in the territory in the future, to rest among other objects of yet-to-be-determined magical uses.
But, Sergio also surprised me with his own gifts: flowers, a lovely little piece of the territory to keep with me, and a gift for my husband as well — I’m as warmed by this gesture as i am by the Russian tank heater hanging near my desk.
Code Word: Tarantula
Working at Sergio Ostroverhy’s studio cum student/artist collective is, well, a series of alternately entertaining and frustrating vignettes.
I sit in the corner of Sergio’s studio, where he and his assistant/my friend Lili are working on a GIANT canvas covered in a grotesque image of Hilary Clinton staring longingly up toward some undefined yet most likely spiritual subject, and i work on compiling his dossier. Not the most interesting work, but it allows me to witness what Sergio refers to as the “Territoreality” from a somewhat distanced position. I get the amusement without the drama. Not to mention I watch the development of this amazing painting and take part in a very special, very small community of ex-pats.
Some days Sergio and Lili chain themselves together - literally a big gold chain attaches at the ankles - to force Sergio to focus on the painting when he’d rather procrastinate by “systematizing” various spaces, or practicing his “brain yoga,” or sharpening endless numbers of pencils. Today, however, he is distracted with some sort of technical wiring or computer installation - some sort of visit from a man Sergio describes as a genius software engineer/aquarium worker/wall-painter. So Lili and I are alone in the studio and intermittently having a 90s dance party (think Savage Garden and Salt-n-Pepa), while I look out for Sergio and shout “tarantula” when he rounds the corner. Not that we’re slacking, we’re just planning out our strategically silly play list to break up what is sometimes monotonous work: me with my dossier project, Lili with her line-tracing/gesso-ing/pencil sharpening.
Most every day at the Territory there is a new alteration to the space itself. Sergio is constantly re-”systematizing” (what Sergio describes as a step beyond mere organization - thankfully i haven’t had to take a crack at this) and re-defining spaces for different uses according to who’s doing what where. Earlier this week, Sergio decided that large swaths of bubble-wrap should be draped throughout the “summer kitchen” (another young artist’s eventual workspace) and in front of the window that my desk faces. However, immediately after the bubble-wrap was “stampled” into place over several doorways, Sergio smacked straight into one and with a face red from embarrassment yelled “ooh my gawt, you cannot valk in this fooking sheet!” (read Russian/French accent) - this is the outcome of most Territory re-visioning. Unexpected, potentially useful, and always amusing.
The Paris Territory
So I mentioned in a previous post that I found some work at an artist’s studio. This studio space that I spend my time in is dubbed “the territory” and is the brainchild of a painter named Serge Ostroverhy (more on his work later). He essentially houses a labyrinthine concoction of artists’ roosts that the creative ex-pat can rent as a space for their work. There are painting studios, a photostudio, a writing lab, and so on. You’re probably picturing an attic studio with a wall of windows overlooking the Marais, but really this space is quite a bit more interesting than that. The territory rests behind a typical apartment block in paris, through a gate with a secret doorbell and a broken skateboard. To get back to the main studio one must pick their way along a narrow path lined with lonely canvases, empty blue jars, paint cans, ladders, chairs, brushes, mirrors, samovars and more broken skateboards. All of these seem not like piles of refuse or detritus, but rather like a collection of precious objects whose value has yet to be revealed by the magical mind of Sergio. And since my tenure here at the territory I have indeed seen many of these items put to use and transformed to create warm and unexpected spaces which light my imagination.
I think that’s the key to the territory – it feels like an imaginary space or like a space that is waiting to be defined by your imagination. To me it feels like an artistic pirate ship/Bedouin tent/granny’s attic/futuristic sci-fi hideout. To traverse the territory one climbs ladders, crosses many-leveled thresh holds, rings secret alarms, encounters w(e)ary creatives, reaches dead ends at locked doors, and stalks dark hallways. I’ve been inspired to create by the space itself, multi-faceted as it is.
Not to mention its part-time inhabitants: painters, writers, photographers, and philosophers (and me – not sure how to define – vigilant observer?). Many of these work for Sergio in exchange for studio space. Thus we’re all sort of grouped around him as he plans and executes his next project (again, I will address this in another post). He flits around from space to space, managing this territory that really functions as his cloaked business. He laughs a lot, hangs Russian icons all over, listens to music on repeat until he finishes a given task, and haggles over deals like any seasoned entrepreneur.
It’s a really exciting and dynamic space/community – I swear I can feel the air electric with plans and projects and I love this. It feels every day to me as if something’s about to begin. As if my life has taken me, not only to this amazing city, but has let me in on one of its most peculiar secrets . . .