Archive Highlight: Dear Dad(s)

[DON'T HIT PLAY YET - I'll tell you when to start the audio]

NOTE: If you're reading Archive Highlights in order, you may be confused right now, as you were expecting to find details about the Telelibrary as Part three of my ongoing series looking at the different "alternative payment" Systems found across my work. As it turns out, doing nearly 3 years/almost 1500 calls has generated a lot of data, and thrown me some very interesting findings worth exploring (along with a bunch of things I really can't make sense of yet). And since I have the technical aptitude of a ham sandwich with fingers, working all those spreadsheets is taking a little longer than anticipated. So rather than give you the roughest possible draft, I'm moving this Highlight I'd planned for next year, which I've been thinking a lot about while reading "Inciting Joy" by Ross Gay, which has many beautiful and complicated stories about his father. These excerpts come from my project [MISSING]; if you're not familiar, you can read this Highlight for an overview, and this other Highlight to dive deeper into some of the ways these transcripts were transformed and adapted. Okay, I think that's enough preamble - Please enjoy!

Archive Highlight: Dear Dad(s)

AKA "Yannick stalls for time on Telelibrary Financial Data"

One of the most interesting behind-the-scenes tasks of The Telelibrary is that of noticing patterns, trends, or little resonances between sessions. Whether it's a theme, a topic of discussion, or just a certain phrase, I'm often struck by the ways two people years apart can meet at the same words, and find meanings that are totally different or very much the same. The Telelibrary is a bit like pouring a bucket of water down a hill several thousand times, and seeing what shapes emerge. With a light hand, I try to organize the User inputs to let participating Users experience some of those unexpected shapes, the pools and eddies in the path the water carves. For an example, I'd recommend going to the Lost and Found on your next visit, and checking out the entry on "Missing; My Dad(s)," which in turn put to mind two interviews I really enjoyed from my 2013-2014 project [MISSING].

If you want to experience these together, you can follow along here, play the audio above when cued, and listen and read in sequence. You'll see each interview accompanied by a scan of the envelope the participant sent, and an excerpt from the contract we drew up together. You can also use the links provided to hear one at a time, and access transcripts with timecodes.

I was based in Abu Dhabi, and was gathering research on 'Missing;' what do people mean when they talk about it? What are they feeling? To do so, I visited a few locations across the city, and offered passersby the chance to either call a loved one on a prepaid phone or to write a letter and have me cover the shipping costs; in exchange, they would join me for a short conversation about who they wrote to and why.

The first of these conversations took place at the Abu Dhabi Art Fair, November 23, 2013. We were at Manarat al Saadiyat, which was then quite outside of town in the still-under-construction Cultural District. It's there my collaborator Amani and I met Adrienne

[Okay, press play to listen along]

PARTICIPANT LETTER - ADRIENNE

"In addition to this image, I am also comfortable sharing the following item(s):

[X] The city of residence of the recipient of this letter/phone call
[X] The recorded audio of my 5 minutes of questions
[X] Incidental recorded audio (conversations had, questions asked, enthusiasm expressed outside of the official 5 minutes
[X] The transcribed text of my 5 minutes of questions
[X] Complete and utter faith in the artist"

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Separate Transcript with timecodes available

[…]



Yannick: So, uh first question: who did you write to?

Adrianne: I wrote to my father.

Yannick: And why?

Adrianne: (inhale) see I'm going to cry. 'cause I miss him so much (laughing). And you don't get to do that on the phone, you know? You can't miss 'em too much when you're on the phone. And it's just far away. And he's older, so .. dang (laughing) I didn't think I would get so emotional I'm sorry (laughing) . (inhale) ha. Yes, so that's why.

Yannick: And that's why a letter not the phone.

Adrianne: (tsk) yes, it's funny I wrote to him in my letter and said, um, "you know you never really tell me how you're doing," and I don't really tell him how I'm doing either. (sniff) So. Sometimes that's easier to do in a letter. You know. Just be more truthful somehow. I don't know why. So sorry—[crying]

Amani: //ohhh//

Yannick: //that's fine-please// Um, can you tell me something about him?

Adrianne: Oh my dad? (inhale) (exhales). He is um … gosh, .. there's so many things, I wouldn't even know where to start. Um, … (tsk) .. he's lonely I think. (tsk) So that makes me sad. (inhale) And he doesn't really have any faith. So that makes me sad. Um, … and I just think that, you know when you get to 81 years old .. I just have such a different picture of how I want to be. You know? At that time. So, um but he's lovely. You know, he's um, a very kind, generous man, and um .. I think he's very compassionate about other people. And, .. but then doesn't really .. you know, share his feelings with others. So, it's kind of like .. again it's a one sided thing where I was saying he doesn't open up. He doesn't really even open up to me. So.

Yannick: Uh, we're gonna wait a second, because we're suddenly in the middle of Time's Square [people passing in the stairwell]. Why are you separated?

Adrianne: Um because we're living here. Obviously my dad's back in the U.S. . And um, so we just get home once a year. So we saw him this summer—my kids saw him this summer, and (inhale) I did, but you know that's just not enough when somebody's this age, you know—and that's what's so interesting being here, because .. it does make the world feel so much smaller. And, you know, finding so many similarities between humans to me is just such a gift from God. To realize how alike we all are. But um, saying that, and realizing the world is not that big, it's still a really long expensive trip home. You know? And so, yeah you just can't do that as much. And so when you're older I think you know when your parents are aging you just .. want to be with them more. you know? You know that time's .. slipping away, and so you just want those moments.

Yannick: When you-when you miss him—or miss someone or something, what does—how does that feel for you? How do you feel that?

Adrianne: My heart aches, you know? It's a-it's a loneliness and it's a void, it's a, um … you know you're just discontent I think. You know, there's just ..—it doesn't feel complete. You don't feel whole, you know, when.. somebody that you love's not close by.

Yannick: So what do you do?

Adrianne: hmm call, some. (laughing) You know just I think go back in your mind. I've—I relieve memories, and um, you know think about times we had together. But (inhale) I'm not very good at —I'm not—don't like the phone, so it's really challenging for me. Um, I didn't like the phone .. in the U.S. (laugh) I don't like the phone here I'm just not a .. a good communicator by phone. So. Skype's not really good for me, you know none of those things are—it all just seems so planned, and .. I don't know. And then it's just that much more difficult here, so.

Yannick: Uh, and just sort of, to wrap up as we near the end of your 5; could you tell us a little bit_ about yourself, to finish?

Adrianne: Oh. I love art, that's why I'm at the fair. Went to school in art and design. And um, had my two little girls, who you guys met. Whom I adore. And um, you know it just kinda changes your perspective on life. And I … right now I'm a full time mom—I really did have a profession (laugh) I was a commercial interior designer and had my own firm and did lots of great things and, it's funny right now I'm like, "why aren't I working again?" But I am working, you know parenthood is a full time job, I think, most of the time anyway. And, so .. (tsk) I'm just trying to, you know, figure out what God's purpose is for me here, and … and.. I'm sure it will be revealed soon.

Yannick: okay. Thank you very much.

Adrianne: Thank you.


[…]

END

[We've got about 45 seconds of transition on the track to get across town - feel free to pause if you need more time, or to jump to timecode __ if you're starting here]

The second conversation happened months later, in the Madinat Zayed neighborhood behind my apartment building, late night of January 18th, 2014. I had come here with collaborators Fatima Maan and Umair Ahsan to conduct interviews in Hindi and Urdu, but Mazammel said he'd prefer to speak in English.

PARTICIPANT LETTER - MAZAMMEL

"In addition to this image, I am also comfortable sharing the following item(s):

[/] The city of residence of the recipient of this letter/phone call
[/] The recorded audio of my 5 minutes of questions
[ ] Incidental recorded audio (conversations had, questions asked, enthusiasm expressed outside of the official 5 minutes
[/] The transcribed text of my 5 minutes of questions
[ ] Complete and utter faith in the artist

Furthermore, I would like to add:

No Contact"

############################################################

Separate Transcript with timecodes available

Yannick: So, who did you write to?

Mazammel: Uh, to my dad.

Yannick: hm. And why did you write to him.

Mazammel: (inhale) uh, it's like I wanted to say him something which I never said to him verbally. (inhale) Just like something from .. inner of my heart. Just uh, he was like, he's so supportive to me. I've never seen, like, faced someone in my life who supports me this much. It's-it's different. I have many friends, many relatives—this support, but this .. my dad like he is different. That's why I wrote to him.


Yannick: Can you tell me something about him?

Mazammel: Okay … (inhale) uh .. mm, he's a practical guy. With uh, like an open nature. He's frank, uh, doesn't hide anything .. within himself, if he wants to share he shares you, and, if you have something good or bad, he—like discusses with me, and like, with everyone in the family. Just like .. all are clear between each other (? 00:01:21-3 ). (inhale) And, like he's the one who is mainly holding the family. With uh, like uh … clear vision and clear relationships. Deep relationships, would you say. That is what I would like to say about him.

Yannick: alright. Uh, why are you separate?

Mazammel: Uh, actually my dad is in my country. So, I came here for uh .. job. So, I'm working here .. that's the reason.

Yannick: Hm.

Mazammel: That's the reason. Nothing else.

Yannick: Who didn't you write to?

Mazammel: Who didn't I write to? Uh … one of my friend. Close friend. I was like planning to write to her .. and my dad. So I .. picked on my dad. (laugh)

Yannick: Hm. And-and why not her?

Mazammel: mm—it's like, the role which my dad played in my life is more than hers. That's why I just—I don't know, my heart picked him. Instead of her.

Yannick: hm. What does it feel like when you miss someone, for you?

Mazammel: (inhale) uh… it's a difficult question, actually. (laughing) It has uh … different type of feelings. Like in .. different moments you feel them in a different way. (inhale) So, the most, uh .. like the strongest feeling which is related to missing someone is like, you have everything in the world. But, you don't have that person to share with him. Or her, whatever you say. You don't have the person near you to share with him. It's-it's painful. I would to say. Uh, painful and .. okay (inhale)—it hurts. (laugh) and that's it.

Yannick: And where does it hurt?

Mazammel: (tsk) inner. Inner self. It's not like eh in your mind or somewhere. It's like, you have something or some type of feeling inside your heart. Like a … you can't show it to anyone (laugh) but in—inner you.

Yannick: mm

Mazammel: It's .. it's just inside.

Yannick: great. Uh, that's it for questions. Is there anything you'd like to tell us about yourself?

Mazammel: (exhales) myself, uh… I've been uh … I passed through different stages of my life. I would like to say, I was bordered with my dad, mostly. I was away from my mom because uh .. my dad, like he was in a different country—he used to work there. Uh.. during my education, mm—my mom had to go back to my homeland. .. Due to family reasons. So, I stayed with my dad. . . . He taught me .. more about reality. More than, the .. uh how do you say .. imaginary stuffs. So, me, myself, like I'm a practical guy. But still I have some moments when I miss the near ones. (laugh) Near and dear ones. So. And … hamdulilah, uh … at present, … the life is uh—what do you say?—it's pleasant. It's good.

Yannick: mm

Mazammel: The time I'm passing now is uh, I .. like uh, I believe that it's one of the—the time is the, eh, like some of the best period of my life. Is what I'd like to say at present.

Yannick: alright

Mazammel: That's it.

Yannick: That's it. //Alright, thank you so much.//

Mazammel: // (laughing) // Thanks a lot. Nice talking to you.

Yannick: So we'll uh, we'll just get you to sign the thing/

Mazammel: /okay

END

[MISSING] was the largest project I had attempted at that time, but in many ways it was most instructive in its smallest moments; in my first day of interviews, when asking a participant to explain more about what they meant by their response, they answered simply " I'm not sure, it just came out of my mouth." Nearly 9 years later, I realize that this experience of Participants surprising themselves with what they say is something I've chased through nearly every other project since. I think each of these Letter Writers found themselves feeling and expressing something they hadn't realized before about their relationship to their father, and where they exist in it.

What's so exciting to me about the Telelibrary is the opportunity to invite a participant to not only have that moment of discovery, but to then feel its resonance with people who have come before — all in real time, and all while entirely alone.