A drama in two acts.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or events, is, most of the time, intentional.
The original text is in Bahasa Indonesia; translation provided by the author.
Broken English is used deliberately.
*
CHARACTERS
AD: Late forties, a stout figure dressed casually. For health reasons, can only wear ASICS running shoes. His wavy, long hair, the colour of ash, is loosely tied. Always ends a sentence with laughter.
AN: Dressed in Jakarta indie-pop get ups and sporting a pixie-cut, she is in her late thirties. Petite figure, walks very slowly and surely. Almost always on WhatsApp.
AF: Tall, pale, slender man, dresses in shirts with occasional suits. He is what we would call ‘past retirement age’, with a stature to match.
DP: Looks like if Joan Jett was born Southeast Asian, and experienced single-parenting three boys. Wears a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that matches the green and pink highlights in her dark-brown hair.
FR: Early forties with slender-medium built. Loves to misgender himself in clothing. Embracing his balding situation by sporting a Baby JJ (from Coco Melon) hair-do.
HV: The figure with most authority in the room. Her signature look: big black rimmed glasses, red lipstick, 80’s glam rock hair, all-black art crowd attire.
IA: Moves and seems to exist in a different understanding of time. Moves, thinks, types, and eats very slowly, as if always conserving his energy for an anticipated something. Classic sneakers, either Converse All-Star, Adidas Samba, or similar. Ash Warhol-like haircut.
IH: Gorp-core attire on a figure that has never been other than skinny in more than fifty years of life. Balancing artistic and architectural careers impeccably.
JS: A pair of eyes that holds the weight of being in and thinking about art collectives, always hidden behind a pair of glasses. Never loud, but whispers to herself and others while others are speaking. Palladium boots.
MA: Outdoorsy. Clear pronunciations, either in Bahasa Indonesia, English, French, Arabic, German, or his own local dialect. Blurs the boundaries between joking and being serious.
RA: Bowl-cut hair, mid-forties. Plays dubstep behind the deck, memorized Beastie Boys’ lyrics by heart decades ago. An accident in his early age left him with a crooked right arm that he wears with pride.
ROOM
A small room painted grey looks out onto the shopping street below. On the shorter side, a metal-framed door, and on the longer side, three sets of standardized aluminum windows. A long modular table takes up the center of the room flanked by 8 office chairs on wheels. Industrial metal shelves in one corner face the door. A desktop computer at the end of the table faces the shelves, while an armchair is plopped near the door. Diagrams, drawings, and architectural schemas decorate the walls.
ACT A: Form is a translation tool for 1:1 manifestation
FR looking at a document titled “We are angry, we are sad_final version.doc” on his laptop.
FR: What is “categorically refusal?” How should we put it in practice?
[Sticker: “…remote control” on a laptop.]
JS enters without saying anything. She props herself up in a familiar position, opens up her laptop and begins typing immediately.
IH enters, turning on the computer and returning scattered objects to their respective places. One hand takes off his rain jacket while the other operates the mouse and keyboard.
IH: Udud sek, Masbro… (Smoke first, my friend…)
[Sticker: “Distraction is a bliss” on FR’s forehead.]
FR: What will exist after all of this is finished?
IH: You’ll take that very laptop you’ve been working on home with you. Consider it whatever you wish—a hostage, a gift, or even a warranty. It holds too many secrets, things we don’t want anyone to remember.
FR: Like when the Archiv asked whether they could archive our WhatsApp group?
Both move closer to the window. FR lights up a cigarette directly, while IH rolls one.
RA: Good morning!
RA walks in, holding a lightly modified bike with rugged non-standard wheels. A bike station can be glimpsed outside the door.
RA: I just dropped by WH22. I realized something: while team members work as intended, visitors coming and going, the artists are present, and they can only discuss what’s coming—caught between frustration, anxiety, and excitement. It’s like two parallel worlds are running, each a spectator of the other!
IH: These parallel worlds, are they colliding or intertwining?
RA: Neither. They just co-exist, but seem aware, curious even, of what is happening on the other side. They are far away, so close.
FR: These two parallel worlds—what’s happening and what’s reported in the media—are in constant contradiction. It’s driving me to the edge. Schizophrenic.
IA: We never look for conflict, but if they come, we’re here. We should not have agreed to be dragged into something that was never ours to begin with.
All are surprised—none were aware that IA was in the room, but he is, lurking in the corner, propped on the sofa.
IA: Look at the bumper sticker on your bike…
[Sticker: “conflict… overrated” on a bike bumper.]
RA grins, leaving the room, with his voice saying good morning to colleagues outside. Before the door closes properly, someone pushes it ajar. MA enters the room like a storm. Every movement is exaggerated in both speed and gusto.
IH: What’s new, Masbro? You hang out downstairs again this morning, as planned?
MA: Every morning, before opening until lunch time. Like clockwork. Some Zionist chorus engaged with me today, more than the days before.
AN enters the room, not putting down her bag.
MA: I keep on telling them what I’ve been saying all along: we are refusing to play the game set by the media, the boards, the politicians. It’s falling into a trap. I am here, aren’t I, talking and engaging?
FR: What’s their reply?
MA: “As always, they praise the exhibition—‘What a novel concept!’—but it’s a pity that we appear to be silent by not engaging ‘the public’ more on their terms. That we’re not talking to the media, having more ‘public’ discussions…”
FR: And who is this “public?” Who put that Toni Morrison quote in the group chat a while ago? I think it was Ayse, “The function, the very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being… None of this is necessary. There will always be one more thing.”
IH: [interrupting]
Since that Anti-Deutsche blog came out and was quoted by the tabloids to no end, we’ve been guilty by default. Since then, we’ve had to prove our innocence.
AN: The Anti-Deustche baffles me.
FR: Not only you! Everyone not intricately versed in post-war German politics finds them confusing. I had to ask Emily one afternoon, in her apartment in Berlin, to guide me slowly through their evolution. How the German left supported the invasion of Iraq? I’m still not sure I understand it fully.
AN: I just wanted to get these T-shirts to bring to Kios… I’ll continue working and making the ground realities mine. More vital and real…
AN laughs nervously, calmly
FR: Have fun… Some of us are taking care of these threats, in order for agendas such as yours to continue as planned. Don’t be distracted.
MA looks at his phone
MA: Some of us are going to be late. They said they don’t have any problems with the statement as it is…
FR: We have become a factory of statements… Maybe that’s now the most important job description of an Artistic Director?
IH: Luckily we can rely on the others as well… Statements are not only ours… they’re as much the teams… Even more others’ than ours, yes?
MA: Let’s give it a green light from our side, then… We trust those who have toiled on it, writing, editing, preparing. The title says it all…
[Sticker: “…remote control” on a laptop.]
FR presses send.
FR: Even when I’m alone, I still have all of you ghosting me…
The early morning sun fills the empty, grey room.
*
ACT Z: If you don’t want to, you don’t have to
The entire cast is waiting in ROOM, except FR, who enters last, slowing down only after entering and realizing that everyone has gathered formally. No dialogue as everyone moves into place.
FR: Sorry to keep you waiting. I was with guests downstairs—Bu Melanie—when I got the text telling me to come here now.
AD: Yes, I sent you the message. Sorry to interrupt, but they want to talk to us about something important.
MA: So, we’re all here… Please, begin.
HV: Thank you. So, what have you left us with is a challenge, a documenta that needs to be fixed…
A blur, mumbled sound, with HV speaking and AF nodding, for 30 seconds.
FR: So, what you are proposing is a meta-Finding Committee, a Finding Committee to appoint the next Finding Committee, for d16?
HV: We have asked the other living former Artistic Director of previous editions. They’ve all agreed to be part of this.
FR: You asked us last.
SILENCE with natural body movements for 20 seconds.
AD: What we’d like to know is, if we decided to be part of it, can you or anyone else guarantee the safety and freedom of anyone we bring into the picture?
HV: Unfortunately, no.
Another SILENCE broken only by RA coughing several times. SILENCE reigns.
MA: How much time do we have to come up with an answer?
HV: We are here. Waiting.
Collective LAUGHTER. All begin talking with one another in Bahasa Indonesia.
AD: “Kalau tak ada yang bisa menjamin apa-apa, boro-boro sebuah perubahan akan terjadi, tapi keamanan siapa pun yang kita bawa bahkan tak bisa mereka jamin, buat gw si kita ga usah jawab iya…”
(If no one can guarantee anything, anyone we bring to the table is at risk—let alone the changes that need to be done. For me, we should not answer them positively…)
MA: “Tidak bertanggung jawab kita nanti kepada ekosistem kita sendiri, siapa pun yang kita ceburkan nanti… Lebih banyak risikonya, dibanding manfaatnya…”
(We risk being unaccountable to our own ecosystem, whoever we put in that position… Too many risks compared to benefits…)
RA: “Dari gw, sebagai yang akan tinggal di sini lebih lama, lebih baik kita putus saja hubungan sama documenta. Kita selesaikan saja sesuai kontrak kerja. Setelah itu, gw setuju, bisa jadi membawa banyak ancaman kalau dilanjutkan.”
(From my side, and as someone who’s going to stay here longer, it’s better to cut our relationship with documenta completely. We just need to finish things based on our working contracts. After that, I agree, continuing this relationship can only bring more threats. )
FR: “Memang ini kayak serangan tiba-tiba, sih. Terpojok kita posisinya… Dipaksa betul kita untuk menjawab positif, tapi risikonya terlalu besar. Lebih baik kita tolak, memang. Kita bilang bahwa nanti kita jawab lewat email, karena kita masih perlu ngobrol antara kita?”
(This feels like an ambush, indeed. They cornered us… Forcing us to answer positively, with too much risks. It’s better to decline. Should we say to them we are going to answer them by email, as we need time to consolidate between us?)
AD: “Ya, boleh.”
(Yes, sure.)
FR: Sorry, but we need to talk a bit more. We’ll send you our answer via email by the end of the day?
HV and AF speak in German then LEAVE THEIR SEATS
HV and AF [in unison]: “We’ll be waiting, and thank you…”
Everyone else [in unison]: “Tschüssss…”
