Week 200. The Bank.

Emma Woffenden

To save and be safe, what we save.

Head to Head Blue. Drawing ink, chalk, pencil, on paper.

“Say the words ‘I feel safe’.”
I searched for the feeling in the dark but was unable to identify it.
“ I know security and safe enough,” I answered.
I think about small rabbits in a warren, still nothing.

We arrive at Wakehurst Kew, walking and examining this Septembers seed pods and seed heads on trees and plants. The official seed bank is also here – a concrete underground space. I think about the little banks hanging on the trees. We have come to a place of safety and saving.

I remember the drawing I saved for 35 years. Then I had been thinking ‘I was in you before you were born’ about embryos holding future eggs, a weird seed bank. I wanted to feel close to feel safe.

Kyoko Kasuya

The secret image bank of Jeddah.

Excerpt from the secret image bank of Jeddah Diary, Nov-Dec 2023Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

Before I joined The Crown Letter, my work primarily focused on events or incidents related to my Japanese background and history. Since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, I have had the opportunity to engage with women artists from Europe, South America, India, and Japan through the Crown Salon, held every Tuesday. We publish our works on the web every week. This project has significantly changed my mindset. We exchanged a wide range of views on daily life during the pandemic, current affairs, art creation, and the art scene from a woman’s perspective, and reflected these views in our thoughts. It was a new experience for me to work exclusively with women, and it was very refreshing.
While addressing feminist topics such as breast cancer, the anti-abortion movement, International Women’s Day, and women’s rights within the collective, I have searched for topics related to women that I could explore further for my own projects. In the spring of 2022, I met Sally, a Saudi Arabian painter originally from Jeddah. As our friendship and discussions deepened, I realized that the attitudes toward life of women in Japan and Saudi Arabia had many similarities. In both Europe and Asia, Saudi Arabia is primarily known for its Islamic religion, oil resources, and deserts; other aspects remain mysterious and are not well-known. Images of Saudi women are often shrouded in veils. I became interested in exploring this hidden part and creating a video work that tells the stories of women with diverse backgrounds.
In November 2023, with a grant from the Allotment Travel Award, I finally traveled to Jeddah, the second-largest city in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. During my three-week stay, I filmed every day. I would like to share with you an excerpt from the secret image bank that I accumulated during that time.
It is no exaggeration to say that this project is also made by my participation in The Crown Letter. I would like to thank Natacha and all of the members of this project.

Aurelia Mihai

Anhalt

Esther Shalev-Gerz

Dividendum 1

Dividendum 1, 2024 photography

Neringa Naujokaite

Sets of Typefaces and Matrices

Neringa Naujokaite, Sets of Typefaces and Matrices, 2024, photography

Kasia Ozga

Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home, Digital Photograph, September 2024.

I purchased a home for the first time in my life last summer. Or rather, the bank that sold me a loan purchased a Craftsman style Bungalow built in 1921 in Greensboro, North Carolina and I paid a (mostly borrowed) down payment. My father always said “You need to spend money to make money” but I’ve always avoided debt and “investment” like the plague; I moved across an ocean to a country with socialized medicine, among other reasons, to avoid ever being caught in a spiral of medical debt. I’ve never owned property before, never lived anywhere for more than 10 years, never felt comfortable enough to put down roots in a place by signing (almost) everything I own on the dotted line. Now this place belongs to me (to us, I bought it with my husband), according to the deeds and the assessors and the property records books. The bank takes money out of my account monthly and will continue to do so for 30 years. Until I’m past the age of retirement. I’m supposed to feel newfound freedom as a bonafide homeowner, but mostly, I feel that weight.

Natacha Nisic

Blackmail – Faire chanter

Notes pour l’écriture d’un opéra tragique comique – Notes for writing a tragic-comic opera

#Teaser

1
On imagine une fresque tragi-comique sur fond d’industrie,
au sens d’une activité des femmes et des hommes,
quotidienne et orchestrée, une activité qui est donnée aux
autres dans un but de production. L’industrie, c’est l’Opéra
de Paris, la Maison à administrer. Les acteurs principaux de
BLACKMAIL— les Performateurs — ont leurs quartiers
réservés à l’abri des regards, mais ils en sortent pour se
faire voir et s’exprimer. Que l’Opéra et sa scène soient en
répétition, représentation ou à l’arrêt, n’a aucune influence
sur leur relation au réel : il glisse. Plus clairement, pour les
Performateurs de la fresque économique, la conscience
d’être les véritables acteurs de la réalité est si forte, qu’elle
transforme tout événement, action, objet, en simple décor,
et tout être — quel qu’il soit, quoiqu’il fasse — en
décoration vivante de ce décor. Tout : salles de concert,
scène, couloirs, réserves, bureaux, billetterie, toilettes,
loges, escaliers, toit, rideau, carrelage. Avec tout le monde :
employés, danseurs, chanteurs, constructeurs, directeurs,
spectateurs, touristes. Rien n’est épargné dans la
production.
Les indices de l’activité se mesurent aux gestes, à leur
qualité et à leur répétition. On les nomme La Main Invisible.
Omniprésents, les gestes de l’industrie de l’Opéra sont
mesurés, observés, filmés, comme indices de l’activité.
Conservés, ils constituent la mémoire industrielle du lieu et
en garantissent la Valeur.

We imagine a tragi-comic fresco on a background of industry, in the
sense of an activity of women and men, daily orchestrated, an
activity that is given to others for the purpose of production. The
industry is the Paris Opera, the House to administer. The main actors
of BLACKMAIL- the Performers – have their reserved quarters out of
sight, but, sometimes, they come out to be seen and express
themselves. Whether the opera and its stage are in rehearsal,
representation or at a standstill, has no influence on their relation to
reality: it slips. More clearly, for the Performers of the economic
fresco, the consciousness of being the real actors of the reality is so
strong, that it transforms any event, action, object, in simple
decoration, and any Being – whatever it is , though he does – in living
decoration of this set. Everything: concert halls, stage, corridors,
reserves, offices, ticket office, toilets, dressing rooms, stairs, roof,
curtain, tiling. With everyone: employees, dancers, singers, builders,
directors, spectators, tourists. Nothing is spared in production.
The indices of activity are measured by gestures, their quality and
their repetition. They are called The Invisible Hand. Omnipresent,
the gestures of the Opera industry are measured, observed, filmed,
as indices of activity. Preserved, they constitute the industrial
memory of the place and guarantee its value.

La première présentation de ce travail en cours a eu lieu au Théâtre d’Aubervillers, dans le cadre des Chantiers de Marie-José Mondzain, 26 sept. 2021

The first presentation of this work-in-progress took place at the Théâtre d’Aubervillers, as part of Chantiers de Marie-José Mondzain, Sept. 26, 2021.

Manuela Morgaine

Coffre-fort – Safe

C’est la 200 ème semaine que nous existons, avons ouvert une fenêtre qui ne se referme jamais. Ici c’était dans l’atelier d’Emma W. un de ces quatre étés que nous avons partagé. Garder cette fenêtre d’atelier d’artiste ouverte sur l’horizon, le monde, me permet d’y assembler les pensées infinies inestimables, les utopies infinies inestimables, les espoirs infinis inestimables, les combats infinis inestimables, les formes infinies inestimables, les sentiments infinis inestimables, les désirs infinis inestimables. Cette fenêtre est comme une page d’écriture mais aussi comme un coffre-fort ouvert, qui peut contenir & offrir tout l’infini inestimable.

This is the 200th week that we’ve existed, opened a window that never closes. Here it was in Emma W. studio, one of those four summers we shared. Keeping this artist’s studio window open to the horizon, to the world, allows me to assemble the priceless infinite thoughts, the priceless infinite utopias, the priceless infinite hopes, the priceless infinite struggles, the priceless infinite forms, the priceless infinite feelings, the priceless infinite desires. This window is like a page of writing, but also like an opened safe, that can contain & offer all the priceless infinite.