It almost wasn't possible, but in the end, I did manage to travel to Odense to attend the events organized by the Museum of Photographic Art in that Danish city this past June 27 and 28, to accompany Viggo's photographic exhibition, Ephëmeris. I arrived in Odense early morning on Friday, having slept on the train (as far as one can call that "sleeping"), and since my hotel room wasn't ready yet, I went to walk around the pedestrian zone, hoping not to meet anybody because I hadn't even showered. I watched as shops were being opened for the day and later I sat at a nice café and had a couple of cappuccinos. Afterwards, I made my way to the museum. The bookshop was open by then, so I bought Viggo's new book, 45301, returning to the hotel, where I leafed through it  while the room was being cleaned. In the book, Viggo's photographs are placed over scans of his writings, pages from his journals, pieces of paper with random thoughts. Here the adventure started, when I saw a page written in Spanish and tried to make sense of what was written there, turning the book around, when I saw... the rest, I'd rather not share, suffice it to say that it was quite significant and pertains to something that happened later.

After - finally! - taking a shower and getting ready, I walked to the café where we had arranged to meet the girls from The House of Telcontar. There I met Chrissie and her daughter, Majken and her very nice husband and Erika, a Japanese girl resident in Finland, who was representing Hasemi, the girl who writes the Japanese news page for HoT. I'd already met Christine and her friend Alex, but I was equally glad to see them again. We talked about many things, but the closer it got to the appointed hour we were supposed to go to the museum (5:30), the more the conversation was about "Viggo". We were nervous! When it was finally time, we walked the few feet to the museum doors. Inside, the very, very nice Tina and Susanne welcomed us with smiles on their faces and they gave us our tickets, they didn't even ask for id., it was like, ah, finally we put faces to the names. Viggo's exhibition was upstairs, so we waited there for about half an hour until they opened the doors and we were able to see the photographs. Let me tell you one thing: if I hadn't been able to see Viggo in person that weekend, seeing his work hanging from walls would have been enough. I've only seen it in books, so I already had certain favorites, but it's not the same, seeing them in tiny format on paper, than it is enjoying them in all their glory, framed, big, hanging from a proper wall.

Immediately to the right of the door, the first pleasant surprise: Ruth, 6:10 P.M. and Wolvenbosch were all in that section. They're some of my favorites, Wolvenbosch is practically at the top of the list, which is why I'd asked of him, some time ago, that he signed that very page in Signlanguage. The other two photos can be found in Recent Forgeries (unfortunately, this book is out of print, and there are no plans to reissue it). From there, it got only better. The photographs were arranged practically in chronological order, as I was told later, by Viggo's wish. So you could see very clearly how his style, technique and way og looking at things and life have evolved throughout the years. I don't mean they were arranged exactly according to date, because style, color and theme also influenced the decisions made when hanging the images. In any case, it's interesting to observe how in the most recent photographs Viggo shows as much interest in his subjects as in the variations and techniques he can use to create different visual effects. From these recent ones, I liked Wild 13 the most. It's a fascinating composition, in color: in the foreground, we see a hand, his, which seems to lift from the ground the life giving earth while in the background, seen against the light, a horse, barely discernible, almost transparent, blended with the light from the shining sun at his back. I liked another one that is in the Katalog, called Blue 4, which, as Lis told me, Viggo forgot to take along, as well as two others. It's not surprising, as busy as he seems to be. But let's leave a description of the exhibition to another page just for that purpose, coming soon.

 I take this opportunity to tell you about Lis Steincke, the exhibition's curator, who got more work than she had bargained for if her artist had been less popular thanks to other non-photographic endeavors. Still, you might think she'd consider us a pest, but you'd be wrong. Lis always has a smile on her face and a kind word, no matter how sticky a situation may get.

And sticky it got! A little after 7 PM Viggo arrived with his son Henry, who's already taller than he is and with Pilar, his partner in Perceval Press. He arrived from behind us, so you can imagine the public's reaction. The museum's director, Finn Thrane, was the first to address the captive audience (said audience was captive observing Viggo!). He spoke first in Danish and well, that was my handicap, I don't know any Danish. I can understand somewhat, (German, English and passive Dutch help), but fortunately, Mr. Thrane repeated his words in English, thanking Viggo, the museum's staff (specially Susanne, who later was made to come forward), Henry, who had very patient during a whole week of being ignored by busy people, and Pilar, who is - he addressed Viggo now - your right hand? The right side of your brain? Viggo silently responded by showing one hand first, then the other, and finally lifting the two! Viggo kissed both and posed for pictures with Henry. Because even though the press had already had a chance to photograph and interview Viggo before,  there were about ten professional photographers, some of whom were quite rude, putting their cameras in front of Viggo's nose and flashing. Poor guy, it's a wonder he didn't keel over in a dead faint, eyes turned to spirals, like in a comic book! :)

Lis was next, she almost had to improvise her speech without her notes, which had gone missing. They were quickly found and she thanked not one son, but two: Henry, for having convinced his dad to take the role of Aragorn in the blink of an eye, and her own son, who practically dragged her to see The Two Towers, from which she emerged delighted and curious to find out more about that guy with the Danish name. They surfed all night and at some point they found some of Viggo's photographs. So she endeavored to convince Mr. Thrane to invite Viggo for an exhibition at the MfF. The rest, as they say, is history.

Now  it was Viggo's turn. When he got on the podium, we flashed him a million times, although it was almost not necessary to do it, it was so bright. He also spoke first in Danish, he thanked people and said something about Henry not having minded being ignored during the week, but I couldn't understand why, but he laughed and said he would repeat it in English. Turns out that he had been so busy with his computer all week, that he barely noticed. He thanked everybody at the museum, Pilar, and people who had come to see the exhibition, some from far away. I was standing almost at the front, so I could see him up close. He was sweating, not only because that day it was very hot, but also because the overhead lights were also quite hot. He gets a little nervous, it seems to me, changing the leg he leans on frequently and talking a lot with his hands in an almost "Latino" manner. A couple of times, looking at the audience, he happened to look at me with those blue eyes.

When he finished, he made the mistake of placing himself in a corner of the room, which was not only small,  but very hot due to the lights the many people who immediately surrounded him, it must have been like an oven. I got a little closer, but abandoned the idea of approaching him there, so I stood somewhere else with Erika and the others, said hello to Pilar, who was very nice, even though she must have had a very stressful time, and I chatted several times, here and there, with Lis. I went around again with Erika, returning to some of the photos, and this was very nice, because she knows about photography and we also talked about other photographers we knew and their work. At some point, I was talking to Lis and I felt that a lot of people walked behind me. Viggo had suddenly left that stifling corner and raced for the terrace, with a lot of people in tow. After quite a while, I noticed that there weren't as many people around him anymore, so I asked Erika if she was ready. We went outside and waited while Viggo attended to other people; almost everybody wanted an autograph on their invitation or items brought. You know Viggo, he has a kind word for everybody, he's very attentive. There were some women from the U.S. talking to him ahead of us, they asked him to sign something and gave him gifts, they were talking while to my left this huge guy was standing, maybe a relative, there was some resemblance, but fortunately he moved, or else, Erika and I would have been crushed :) I didn't feel hot. I wasn't sweating, my hands were dry, in hindsight, a very strange occurrence, because I'd always thought that I would be petrified, sweaty-handed and blank-minded in front of Viggo. Fortunately, that wasn't the case.

Suddenly I was facing him, so I said "Hola, Viggo", with a rather shaky voice. You should have seen his surprised look, probably the last thing he expected was to hear Spanish. I wasn't nervous all of a sudden. We shook hands and I introduced myself, and told him, more or less: "Congratulations, Viggo, on your exhibition and for having it here in Denmark". He thanked me and asked if I liked it. I said yes, particularly the way the photos were arranged, for the reasons I mentioned above, that you could see the evolution in style and technique, and we talked a little about that, he seemed to enjoy it. Then I told him I'd bought 45301 and that, even though I hadn't had time to take a careful look, I'd leafed through it and I'd noticed something on a certain page, so I asked if it was what I'd thought it was, and he said "yes". Again, I mention this because we talked a little about something related to it; we tried to remember the title of a certain book he'd read at university but we couldn't, my mind was a little blank after all, probably, because predictably I remembered all titles later. At that moment, I could only think of a single one. I had to repeat it because there was a lot of noise, I don't know why, but anyway, he leaned over to put his ear in front of my mouth, a very natural movement, surely, but would you believe it, I pulled slightly back. Don't ask me why! I guess I was nervous. Pilar came over, and since the conversation was in Spanish, I asked her if she understood. She said yes, and then she told Viggo that I did the Spanish news page for The House of Telcontar, he wheeled around and said: "Oh, you did that translation", referring to one I'd done, he congratulated me and said it was perfect :) He also gave his permission to use another translation as well, from his introduction in Un hueco en el sol, the booklet that accompanied his exhibition at the Fototeca de Cuba last May, even though he hadn't read that one yet. I was feeling really proud, as you can imagine! Pilar left, then. So, thinking I'd held him up long enough already, I thanked him again for bringing the exhibition to Denmark and told him it was really great to look at his work in this way. He started to shake my hand and said thank you and bye, I said "see you tomorrow", to which he responded: "So you're coming tomorrow?" "Sure", I said.

"I'll have to read something in Spanish, then", Viggo said. And I, completely out of the blue, told him: "But please, not Chaco!" You know, it's that poem that he "always" reads, about El Chaco (also in Spanish, here) in Argentina, that begins with "I shit in the jungle..."

He laughed a lot (and you know how he looks when he laughs) and so did I, a little embarrassed for having told him that, but on the other hand telling him he always read the same one and it just would be nice if he read something else, just to change. He said something like "don't you like it? Is it too vulgar?", laughing, but I told him it wasn't that, it was the "always the same one" thing. I said that people hearing it for the first time did think it strange, "for instance, I showed it to my mother and she said 'what is this???'" As I was saying that, he was saying "How dirty" or "What a pig" (I think I saved the Mexican phrase in my head, but he couldn't have said it, "que puerco", what a pig, but that was the sense of the thing). I repeated, no, no, no, no , no, "what is this"! So we had a good laugh and who knows what he was thinking about this woman, telling him what not to read. I thanked him again and said good-bye again, we shook hands, again, and well, I got a little stiff, then, thinking, should I say good-bye with a kiss, which would have been the normal thing to do where I come from, but then I thought, maybe he doesn't want to, so I stiffened, shaking the hand. He also didn't move, but kept looking into my eyes, making me all the more nervous, because that's something he does, while he talks to you, he really listens, looks directly at you, the whole time. Gulp.

Erika was standing next to me and I almost bumped into her. Viggo looked at her, but she didn't say anything. I nudged her and whispered "say something!" But she'd turned into a pillar of salt! I nudged her again, but then Viggo started talking to someone else. When he was finished, I told him to excuse me, but this was Erika, who was from Japan, but lived in Finland. He asked her if she spoke Finnish, and Erika croaked: "Yes". Then Viggo said: "Kiitos por tu visita". Hee, hee. Now he was confused! "Kiitos" means thank you in Finnish, but Erika doesn't speak a word of Spanish! We went back inside and laughed about it, she asked "What did he say???" We waited for our friends  from HoT, we talked to other people from the museum, one of the girls had spent some time in Mexico, so we talked a while, and then they close the doors, since they would continue in petite comité, just family and museum staff. As I was told later, they ate a marzipan cake that was decorated with the motive of one of Viggo's photographs, Cheyenne River 3. 

Afterwards we went to have dinner and exchange impressions. I didn't want to go to bed, I asked a lot of people if they knew of a place that played Latin American music, but they didn't know (in my town, there is always something like that going on, every weekend). The others were all tired, so I went walking around Odense. The pedestrian zone was a single, big party! Everywhere you turned, there was some café or restaurant with people sitting outside, windows were open upstairs and music was blaring out, I almost felt like ringing some bell and coming up! Like I said, I was looking for salsa or something like that, because I don't mind going there alone, you always find someone to talk and dance with very quickly. I also thought, jazz, that I can also enjoy alone. But the music was all pop or rock, and there were people clustering all around, and I would have felt weird and out of place. I did see other Viggo fans I'd spotted here and there, but, if you think we are all a big, happy family, you would be wrong. Apparently, people from different sites or message boards don't greet each other. Don't ask me why, since I don't really know who's who. But well, at least I walked around a lot, the evening was beautiful, and I felt really well. I finally went to the hotel and wrote down everything I could remember, because, believe it or not, you do forget the details.

The next day, Saturday, I got up late, not caring that breakfast at the hotel was served until ten, since the day before I'd noticed Odense had a lot of very nice street cafés where you can have breakfast, so I went out around 11. I walked around until I found a very nice café, Frank A, with tables outside. And darn, Thursday evening they'd had Latin American music. I ended up spending a good amount of time there, talking to table neighbors. Let me tell you that the Danes are incredibly nice and happy-go-lucky people, and something that is really noteworthy is that people look at you on the streets, they make eye contact, don't pretend to be studying some object several miles away. Felt very homey. I'd been to Denmark before, but not to Odense, even though I'd been to Egeskov castle nearby. And I remembered two things from those times: how nice the Danes were, and how beautiful. So, the day was just so nice, I thought to myself, I don't want to spend it in a museum, sorry, even though Odense has several good ones. I'd rather walk around and observe people. Ended up talking to them, too, which was great, while having brunch and a delicious double cappuccino. And it was even better when all of a sudden I saw Viggo walk by, walking single file with Pilar in front and Henry behind, wearing his San Lorenzo T-shirt. Didn't see his feet, though! But I did think, great, he'll be wearing the football T-shirt to the poetry reading, "my girls" will be happy about that. The people I was talking to knew about Viggo's visit in Odense, although they'd never realized before that he did anything else but act, until they read about it in their local papers. I didn't take any pictures, either, since I just wanted to take it all in as it was. A fact I regretted the next day when the sky became grey and not very picture friendly.

The poetry reading and book signing was to take place at a small theater, Magasinet, a few steps from the Museet for Fotokunst. At three, when I'd agreed to meet the girls, there was already a line, rather, two, one from each side of the door. I thought it was going to be chaotic when they opened, but I wasn't shocked, since in Mexico nobody forms "lines" we form "bunches". Apparently, as I read afterwards, so do the Danes :) And sure enough, there was a lot of pushing and shoving, but some people were bothered by it. The "guys in yellow", the very nice and well-mannered security men did their best to maintain order. We went in, got our tickets from Tina and Susanne again, we got these pieces of paper to put our names on to hasten the proceedings when it was our turn to get (only two items) signed, and off we went.

We sat in the third row, pretty much in the center, and we didn't have to wait long. We noticed Pilar and Henry coming in and taking their seats - Henry was wearing a German Army jacket, I wonder if it was a fashion or socio-political statement :) Lis came out to introduce Viggo, but he also appeared and the flashlight deluge that followed had Lis saying: "Stop, stop, please! Now I know what Viggo means, you can't even think with all this light!" Meanwhile, Viggo was standing near the table where he was going to sit, where you could see a flower vase and his mate, and a plastic bag, containing his books and notes. He wasn't wearing the San Lorenzo T-shirt, but a black long-sleeved one, his "War is not the answer" tee over it, dark pants and no shoes :)  He meticulously unfolded and hung a United Nations flag at the front of the table, which prompted a round of applause. He then approached Lis, and waited for her to finish, to give her a flower he'd plucked from the arrangement on the table - with his teeth. Notice that white ghost in front of Viggo and Lis in the far right picture? Those were the flashes! We were told not to photograph during the reading, nor use any other kind of recording equipment. So we all frantically flashed away while we could :)

Viggo sat down and the mood got a bit more serious. He talked and read in Danish for a while, and, even though I managed to catch a few things here and there, it was obviously not enough. But I did try to write down which poems he read:

First he read from Nye falsknerier , the book that compiles Danish translations of some of his poems that have previously appeared in Recent Forgeries, Ten Last Night and Coincidence of Memory. He said, in English, that he was going to read in Danish, since many of those present spoke it, even though others who had come from afar didn't, and even if they did, they would not understand his Danish. This in typical self-deprecating tone, alluding to some Danish journalists who have written they have trouble understanding him, which is absolutely ridiculous. I'd like to see them being fluent in so many languages! Still, he seemed to stumble on a word, and as I'd suspected and found out later, it was the very title of his book. But he laughed about it. He then proceeded to thank the translator of his book, Søren Vad Møller, whom he asked to take a bow, he was right in front of us. Viggo said that Søren had done the translations with some final input from him.

He read Beskæringer first, which is the translation of Cuttings. This I knew because we caught that he'd somewhat said "an errant vine has sprouted two blue flowers..." I just adore the English original. He then read Sten (Stones), at the end of which he had to point out that it was over, which got a laugh from the audience. He continued with Matiné, which was easy to identify since the original is also called Matinee. Before reading it, he talked about going to the cinema and coming out of the theater with the impression that something had changed. Before he proceeded to read Brev fra Nebraska (Letter from Nebraska), Viggo voiced his opinion about the invasion and subsequent war in Iraq; for a moment, he got quiet and probably was reflecting what to say, but then he seemed to find the words and finish his criticism, which was connected to that poem, as he finished writing it shortly after the first US invasion of that country.

Viggo went on to talk about the Danish poet Viggo Madsen and afterwards Majken, who does the Danish news page at the HoT and has a Viggo page of her own, Danish Articles, commented that our Viggo had wanted to read a poem by him, but he hadn't found any of his books at local bookstores, so he decided to read a piece by another Danish poet, Søren Ulrik Thomsen (see here as well). I'll tell you here that, all throughout the reading, Viggo fumbles and searches for the stuff he wants to read next, because as a rule, he doesn't prepare a rigid roster of what he's going to read; rather, he just picks whatever seems adequate for a specific moment. So he started explaining something about the next poem while leafing through his Danish book, but couldn't find it, so the translator told him where to find it. Then I caught that it was Klipning, translation of Edit, which he proceeded to read. I think that, for the first time, he drank from his mate then (pronounced mah-teh), which he sipped in the traditional way, from a bombilla, a funny-looking cup shaped like a sphere with a long straw.  But apparently, it wasn't cebado, a process which requires the bombilla to be constantly refilled with a little hot water (¡Gracias, LK!). So, was he drinking it cold? He continued with Frokost (Lunch), which is a favorite of mine, specially the way he reads it in the "His" and "Hers" versions in the CD One Less Thing To Worry About. He then explained something about a factory and something about metal, and read Bly (Lead). So it's no wonder that he was talking about metals, since that poem is about factory workers. Before he finished reading in Danish, he included a poem by another compatriot, Lone Munksgård Nielsen.

Viggo took a sheet of paper in his hand and explained something in Danish first, but switched to English: I had the impression he wanted to make the event a little bit more serious with these comments, even though he sometimes joked. He said that it was always better to just read a poem without explaining anything, as somebody had told him once that, if a poem needed explaining, there was something wrong with it. "And I'm sure this one is wrong", he joked, but then got serious again. And let me tell you, there is nothing wrong with this poem, on the contrary, it packs a great emotional punch. He mentioned the invasion of Iraq again, the fact that people should always be aware that they had a voice and that this voice could be raised, and he focused in the human aspect of the situation, the suffering and the pain of those people in that far away country, seen only through news reports, while we kept going on with our lives. As you can imagine, he read Back to Babylon, the poem he wrote last February and which deals precisely with that suffering and the fact that the majority of the people in the US opted to ignore what was really happening there and go on with business as usual, putting on blinds and seeing only what wasn't too uncomfortable for them to see.

You can probably picture the mood right then. And then something extraordinary happened, but that deserves an extra page!

NEXT

Majken's report