Kiek Nieuwint
Kiek is a multidisciplinary artist working in drawing, textile, sculpture, collage, performance, installation, and writing. Her installations create warm, playful spaces that integrate fictions, symbols from her dreams, and improvisational performances that invite viewers to participate and touch, a direct and intentional opposition of typical gallery expectations. She often uses found materials, recycling both objects from the street as well as her own artworks so that her pieces may never be "finished," and rather exist with the possibility of continuous flux.
Kiek suggested we cook together as a way of “collaborating.” Though we made a delicious autumn quiche, we forgot to take any photographs! Luckily, we ended up having another collaboration that night which we do have evidence of: naming the 3D-printed baby that Kiek made a few years ago.
Artist’s Instagram
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Kiek suggested we cook together as a way of “collaborating.” Though we made a delicious autumn quiche, we forgot to take any photographs! Luckily, we ended up having another collaboration that night which we do have evidence of: naming the 3D-printed baby that Kiek made a few years ago.
Artist’s Instagram
Kiek: I always drew, so I was always making stuff. I was serious as a kid, so I wanted to go to art school. I was also interested in French culture, so it was this mix of two things. And then I went traveling in Toulouse, and I really liked it there. I learned French and art at the same time, which was interesting because you kind of feel like you're doing two studies. In third year, just before COVID started, I was like, okay, I actually want to take it a bit more seriously. And I started to work a lot more. And then there was COVID. I had teachers there who I got along with well: Simon Bergala and Laurent Proux. And they were both also doing projects/working in Paris, and they were helpful. They actually helped me to get through the interviews to get into [Beaux-Arts]. So that's how I ended up here. It's really competitive here. So I had to take [my work] to another level. You do painting [gestures to Renée]. How did you end up where you are?
RF: I sewed a lot when I was little. My grandmother taught my sister and then they both taught me. I was always making clothes growing up and drawing a bit. So I knew I wanted to do something in art, because I was always making things. And then in high school, I got more into textiles; weaving and dyeing and printing. I started at an art school for fibers, but I didn't like it for many reasons. I realized I want to be doing art, but I also want to be in a school with other opportunities and people who are interested and learning about other things. So then I went to Skidmore, which is just like a small general liberal arts school. But they have a really good art department. And then I just happened to take a painting class, and I really liked that. Now I’m down that path. But I also love printmaking, and sewing and textiles are still very important. Right now I'm kind of feeling more into my sewing practice, just because I haven't really done that in a while. I’m also excited to blend the three: painting, printmaking, and fibers.
KN: Yeah, that's what I was curious about. Is that something you already do, or do you separate them by medium?
RF: I guess it's been kind of separate, but I definitely want to integrate them.
KN: In the art school in Paris, there was no separation between mediums. Most people are doing multidisciplinary stuff. So I think it makes it way more accessible to make stuff. It's really different in the way it works. Because for you, it was like this, but you were more oriented towards interviews?
MR: Yeah, I started out at a school in London doing psychology because I was interested in people and then I was like, wait, this is way too technical. When I transferred to Skidmore, I realized I wanted to do more creative classes, and they have a documentary studies program. I made a lot of artist books. I did installations. I did video art and photography and incorporated some printmaking. I was taking English classes and some digital art.
RF: A lot of your work feels very playful and to be drawing from childhood nostalgia and imagination. So how does your childhood inspire you?
KN: It kind of feels strange to do an interview without seeing the work. Is it maybe more logical to show some things and then afterwards do the questions? Because I feel like it's so essential for you to see it in real life.
RF: Yeah, if you want to show us.
KN: I can show some things, it’s just stuffed away [laughs].
[We all migrate to Kiek’s bedroom]
KN: [Picks up a large wooden ear] This was [for] a performance. I used them for many years in different contexts, but the first time was at an opening and I would put them in the space and then I would replace them like every 20 minutes. And then at the end, people were disturbed because they were like, “oh, I really like the ears. I like the ear. But it’s not there anymore!” [All laugh; Kiek starts pulling out clothing pieces] And this, a friend did a performance. And this is a part of a red bird costume.
RF: Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful.
KN: For my diploma, I had a performance. They all had their own costumes. But I also like that it’s all stuffed away because, with painting, what I find really annoying is that it is always stretched and it takes a lot of space. And now sometimes it's like wooooo look at everything! This was something I did last year. I was making pillars of tape... And for my diploma, I put them on the floor, like that [Starts building towers of rolls of tape]. And then you could take them, and I really wanted people to make these towers, and then they would fall apart again and stuff. It was a way to make a sculpture out of a drawing, and a way to not see a drawing flat. For example, this part was a really big drawing that I made, and I cut it. So now it's many, many pieces. And if you put them together, it still makes a part of the drawing. So that's quite cool.
MR: I love the idea of letting people interact with them.
KN: Yeah, also, because it's so cheap, it makes it really accessible. That was something I learned a few years ago, this idea of making things that are never expensive, so that if somebody touches it, you don't get stressed out. And I really don't want to work with expensive materials because I think it's kind of cheating to make something from an expensive material and then automatically it becomes valuable. And what can I show you? I made a little book that you can wear, like that [Kiek puts on a glove that is attached to a sketchbook]. It was my drawing book. I did some performances where I was like, hello!
MR: [This drawing] reminds me of Hilma af Klint.
KN: Yeah, it's like a Hilma af Klint in the 21st century. Because I thought that if she lived today, she would have something with the internet network2q. I found a lot of her forms remind me of some connection with internet and with phones and stuff. And then I was like, okay, I want to show the drawings in another way, because if you put everything in a little small book, then it also makes it not accessible at all. So then in the end I made these things for my diploma and I put them on the wall [shows us plexiglass containing her drawings and fabrics]. And it also became kind of a collage thing. The plexi holds the image. I thought it was quite cool that if you take away the plexi it falls apart again. But I did them really, really quickly because it was just two days before the diploma.
MR: That’s how it goes [both laugh].
KN: It's funny when you're in art school, I tried out so many things because it's play. I mean, you're so free when you’re still in school.
MR: It all flows into each other so much.
KN: Yeah, I think it's really a thing of color.
MR: And texture.
KN: Yeah, in the end to go back and say, oh yeah, it actually kind of makes sense altogether. But also it's kind of frustrating because I want to maybe break at a certain point [using] all the pastel colors. Now I'm doing a lot of collages. And I found this on the street which is really nice [pulls out long white plastic tubes]. Maybe I'm gonna put some drawings inside. But it's like a large piece of Eva Hesse. For free!
MR: Yeah, and it goes with the tape.
KN: Yeah! I really like cylinders. I don’t know why. I just do. If I don't like something, it becomes this really heavy feeling, like “I have to live with this object, man?” I don't throw it away, I’m just like, okay, now we can change it again. And I just change it and change it and change it till it’s something that I like. But it's also hard to show sometimes because there are parts which [last for] just the duration of the exhibition. I once did this [performance] where I drew in a space, like eight hours a day, 9 to 5 work, I had to draw… We can go back to the living room. That was a mess [laughs].
MR: Thank you for pulling all of it out!
KN: I’m glad I could show the work because I always need to have it close to talk about it.
RF: Thank you! Yeah, it was good to see it all in person and touch things. So in your thesis book River Mouth, you focus on the spaces and experiences of women who travel, which you talk about as stories that aren't usually given as much light. Can you talk about your experiences traveling as a woman? Where have you felt more or less supported and how do you engage with the history of where you are and who came there before you?
KN: First thing, I don't need to travel. Like, if I stopped traveling today, then it's fine for me. It was more this idea of having two feet and being able to walk, in a sense. And also it’s really a privilege to do that. And I think most people like it. I felt free while traveling. It's not always a part of my life. I guess it’s a big step to go to France, but it feels like home here now. But I'm always confronted with these cultural differences, I guess. [River Mouth is] not really talking about traveling, but more of the absence of examples [of women traveling]. I had a hard time going into a really specific direction where it was a combination of traveling and art, which I think has this problematic history. Colonial history is such a large and complex part of the subject of travel, and it's important, inevitable, to talk about. It definitely comes up in the thesis, but the idea wasn't to put the main focus on this. Instead I was trying to find artists that perceived in a different way.
MR: You have a chapter in it called, “She Can Feel Energies: surrealism travels, and the feelings of place.” Can you talk about this a bit? And how does place alter senses, emotions, energies, inspirations?
KN: I think it’s something personal. I have quite a sentimental way of living. And I find it beautiful if you [process life] through writing, it's so personal if you write. I wouldn’t say I'm a good writer, but I try to be as honest as possible when I write. Most of the time [in the texts I found] the women try to talk about something which is really hard to catch in words. I found [a lot] about atmosphere and energies.
MR: I was also going to ask about another two chapters. You've got one titled “Brick in the Wall: On Borders and Bodies,” and later on another chapter titled “Soup/”Splash”/Fusion on a Global Scale: Taking Down the trump wall.” So I was curious about those chapters, the titles felt related.
KN: Yeah, I really like this chapter, [“Soup/”Spash”/Fusion]. [At the time,] I think Trump was building his wall, and I just found it completely ridiculous. So I wanted to give some counter possibilities. It was just a way of showing some voices that don't have power and don't have money that should.
MR: What made me put those two chapters in one question was that they both seemed to be talking about borders. So I was curious if through your research on traveling you had thoughts about the politics of borders?
KN: Yeah, I do, but I also feel like putting them in words would be a bit silly. I was trying to give this idea that you can kind of catch my opinion without putting it down so black-and-white. So I just gave examples of ways of seeing the world. Artists are practically almost always against borders. Our normal, the way we live or [how] we would like to live is [that] we have friends that come from different countries and they have a lot of problems with borders and with visas. And of course we're against that. I was more trying to show a few views of the world which get little attention on a broader political scale. I think that the work of Mika Rottenberg is kind of funny fiction [because] she plays with what borders mean, but at the same time she's just making some funny fictional story about how it would be if it was different. I think that art gives this space to think freely about it without getting into the whole thing; what do you think about borders? How should it change? I always kind of idealize things a bit because I’m an artist.
RF: So just more generally, you talked about keeping a sketchbook and you have those pages in the like, glass sandwich.
KN: [Laughs] That's a good title.
RF: So how do you document and process your memories, experiences, and feelings while you travel?
KN: So actually, I don't really write when I travel. When I took a lot of stuff to draw to India, I didn't draw for two months and then I came back and I was just like, “why’d I take all this stuff with me everywhere?” And when I don't have stuff to draw, I get frustrated because I want to. It's always the moment that you don't expect. And it's mostly parts on the road where you have this long period of time. Time is weird when you're in transport for hours. When I'm moving mostly. And little parts of [the book] were from texts that I wrote when I was traveling.
MR: You have a post on Instagram captioned “Paintings on LSD” and in River Mouth you write about dreams and their relationships to home and travel and place. So do you feel like the mind travels without the body, when in certain states, whether through memory or imagination?
KN: Okay, firstly, I want to say Instagram is a really small part of my life. I use it as a joke. I really don't like it. So I think you shouldn't take this really seriously [all laugh]. [But to answer the question], I definitely don't want to support travel. I'm actually kind of against traveling. When I was a teenager, I didn't want to go out of Europe because I was like, that doesn't make any sense, going to another place. It's just this idea of seeing things on social media and wanting to be there or friends talking about, “oh Thailand is great,” and I just think that's weird. I also think art is an important [way of] taking people to other places without moving. So I think that's why it makes it such an interesting topic. You don't have to be an artist that's going to a place and then documenting it and coming back. There's this whole space every night when you have dreams and nightmares. I have a lot of dreams and every night I wake up and I'm like, okay, I saw all these things tonight. Two days ago I was eating fabric and then I woke up and that was really uncomfortable. I feel like it's a big part [of my art practice], being able to give form to this abstract world, which is traveling. Because that's not something you can know [about someone else], I don't know your dreams. That's really something personal. And I think with travel it's a bit the same.
MR: On the same subject, I'm a really big fan of Patti Smith's memoirs, M Train and Year of the Monkey, because in them she relays her memories without order. So she mixes them with dreams and thoughts and reflects upon different times in her life in a singular passage. I also love the essays of André Aciman, who writes about what he calls “arbitrage,” which he says is the experience of being in one place and feeling as though you're also somewhere else. So, for example, in Paris, I'm reminded of Lausanne and also Manhattan. And so I'm in France and I'm also in Switzerland and I'm also in New York, all at the same time in my head. The question that I wrote down was about traveling, but also being an artist and your experience of giving priority to dreams, do you feel like your memories converge in new ways for you? And do you feel like your experience of time has changed? Do you feel like you're in two places at once, sometimes?
KN: I think it's very interesting. [Being in] Paris and then you [feel] your body is in some other place and that all your references are somewhere else. It's not [that I’m] against traveling, but at least a way of travel which I don't agree with, which is tourism. If you could just stay at one place for three months—of course there's a lot of reasons why you can’t stay for a long time somewhere. The first few years I was here, having two languages was really kind of tricky. Sometimes when I go back to the Netherlands I'm like, “wow, it's really simple,” because you're always on different levels. It's beyond language, I’m still trying to understand how people work. If somebody from another culture makes a joke or talks about something then there's some point where you just cannot know it. There's a lot of anticipating all the time. Which is a good quality. Everybody that likes to travel, I think they learn to anticipate more that people in front of them are different. It's really different to have the political background of the Netherlands, [because] if you're going to other places, then [you’re] mostly just the colonizer. I wrote about when I was in India, in Kochi, there was a graveyard with Dutch names and the
[We transition to the kitchen and begin cooking together]
KN: Instagram seems to be kind of a big thing, is that something that's really important as an artist where you're from?
MR: I definitely feel a little bit of pressure to post some of the work that I've done. A lot of old bosses or professors follow me, so that also changes the way that I present on Instagram, I guess.
RF: I don't feel as much pressure or feel as stressed about posting, but I don't know. I don't really want to have an Instagram. I feel like I should. Apart from my own “publicity” or whatever, I use it as a way to find events. And as a way to get inspiration, because I follow a lot of other artists.
KN: I always try to stop using Instagram, and then I realize that I missed out. But that's something that doesn’t happen in small places, because often you just know [what’s going on]. In Paris I feel like a lot happens on social media because your friends are far away and everybody's doing something else.
RF: We were looking a lot at your exhibition Delta Waves, My Dear. Can you talk to us about this show and what your process was like? And then about the performance aspect a bit as well?
KN: I wanted to make more of an experience because [at Beaux-Arts] everybody has a graduation show/DNSAPl. I have a lot of pieces that, as you saw, have more of a life of their own. So sometimes I cannot show them in the more classical model of the exhibition setting, and also I really don't want to do that. So I was thinking, how can I make something kind of coherent from all these pieces together, where I can give a feeling. I [wanted] it to be a feeling or an experience. And in the end, there’s not really a subject and it’s not really something clear. It was more just, you had to be there. I was like, something has to happen which you cannot capture. So we made the whole space slightly orange. It was just one day. I worked with people who have their own performance practice and I asked them to use everything in the space, so that in the end nothing had a place anymore and everything was kind of moving around. That was the general idea, that we would start off with a space and then at the end, it wouldn't look like that anymore. So everybody that came in didn't have the same experience of the space in the end.
MR: And then were there also performances with the tape?
KN: Yeah, at a certain point I did it myself. There was some music, the artist and pop-singer Mel Dorado. I saw it a bit like a theater, so I wrote a whole document in the form of a script for them, so they had an idea of the world that I wanted to create. There was an opening act, where Maya Kafian, a performance and video artist, was playing the bird, and Mel was singing the bird song. And I was looping the bird song during the whole exhibition, there was the same song over and over again. And then at the end, Rose Felicity, an amazing singer who makes experimental pop music, closed the exhibition with another concert. So there was a microphone. And then at a certain point, I did some performances where I would do a Scotch [tape] concert. [Mimics sounds that the tape makes] It was like kids just playing around. It was really cool to experience.
RF: It's kind of about freedom and no boundaries and just letting go. And then in River Mouth you talk about travel and boundaries within travel. So can you expand on the idea of borders and freedom, and do you imagine a world where travel is boundless?
KN: I think [borders] are a tactic of oppression, like trying to limit movement. If you feel oppressed or limited, that's because somebody put that on your body. So I think it's also the other way around, like if you show people that you can touch everything in the space then you might get a feeling of freedom. For a brief period, I chilled out with people and did graffiti. And I think there's a lot in graffiti about that, like going beyond boundaries and doing everything which some people see as, “oh, you cannot do that.” And then trying to do it anyway. I want to believe that art in a completely different way can also do that.
MR: Were you doing research for the book at the same time as you were preparing for the show?
KN: No, I did the book before.
MR: So were they connected?
KN: Yeah. I had the book in the show and it was my base information source, but [the exhibition] was more the images that are evoked in the book. So there's a redbird part, which is all about a redbird I saw in a dream. I still can see it. I was thinking about this idea of having memories that don't exist but they're really important to us and I feel like maybe the red bird is this essential question that I cannot answer. But it's a question that stays. It was like six years ago, I think I saw it. And then I made a redbird costume for my friend who's playing the redbird.
MR: I love the bird image. I actually have a tattoo that I got because I had a dream about these herons diving into water. And it was so vivid and resonant. And then I saw this artist who does these swans that are diving and so I got this tattoo. The false memories of dreams become important to you, these symbols. I feel like I've had a lot of bird dreams that I've really connected to.
KN: Yeah, I love that. In a way, I really don't think it makes sense. I love that as an artist, you can kind of be stupid. You don't have to have a right explanation and it can be really symbolic or not, but I think the most important thing is just not to forget [the symbols]. Creating it over and over again makes it really become something. A bit like a relationship. You really invest and then it kind of becomes something.
RF: Looking at all your work, there is a lot of found materials, and you said some of the fabric, you would paint on it and then cut it apart. A lot of your work is never fully final and you're remaking it into other things. So can you talk about your material choices? How do you find materials, how much of it is found or reclaimed stuff?
KN: I would say almost everything. Except for paint and that kind of stuff. I like the chance, the coincidence. But I don't search for the material. I just walk around and it's just a way of looking around all the time. I think I have these trained eyes of looking around. Artist friends such as Maya Kafian, Joshua Merchan Rodriguez or Loïc Rouillé do that, or I think of other artists such as Anaïs Fontanges, Noa Robin, Mathis Peron, and Raphaël Massart. So I also got inspired by them. You don't have a lot of economy when you start as a student. So you're trying to find material because everything is super expensive. And then the easiest way is just the street, and France is really good for that. The best stuff is on the street. I actually think it has a lot to do with time. There’s a physical investment of taking certain things from one place to another depending on how heavy it is. And I feel like I spend so much time carrying stuff from one place to another, it's insane. Now I know that there's so much stuff that you can just find. So I know better than to go into a store. Do you use new material?
RF: Yeah, it's kind of the same, paint and canvas and stuff is new. Actually, in the house we were living in this past year, there were a bunch of windows and doors in the basement. So I took a few of the windows and painted on the glass, and that was really fun. And with my clothing and sewing, I mostly repurpose clothes and take used materials for that.
KN: It's nice, the window frame, it's almost like an exercise because you don't have a blank canvas. The window frame is going to ask you like, “what are you going to do with me now?” I think that's what is so much fun with the cylinders. It's the same thing as working with layers. I make a drawing to then be able to destroy it, so it's the same as working with stuff that already exists. You just adapt it, it's easier. I don't know how you do painting. I get really lost in painting. I don't like this thing where at the end you’re like this is an ending. Where it's like, oh, now this is the painting. Because the process is not at all that. Like, the process is doing.
RF: I feel like as I'm getting more abstract, that's definitely getting to be a question of, like, well, when is it done? Because I could just keep going.
MR: You had another show, Diaphanous Dérive. That looked really interesting. The descriptions that we read about it were these quotes from other people. I didn't see a statement from you about it. We’re curious about that and the little green baby. [laughs]
KN: The little green baby, I have it here! [Goes into her room to get the baby, laughter when she brings it out]
RF: Oh my God. That's so funny.
MR: So what's his story? What's going on there?
KN: I don't know, [there] was a big one and it made a little baby! [laughs]
RF: Does he have a name?
KN: No, you can name him if you want. Big responsibility. He lost his mother a long time ago. It's empty inside and it's also kind of transparent. The green transparent resin is such a cool material! [laughing] It’s kind of an alien thing.
MR: So what was your process with that show and his origin?
KN: I made it from clay at the beginning. It was handmade and then you scan it with a 3D printer and then I made it in resin. I also had 10 small babies. And the show was the same thing, there were no titles. And then I was like, okay, what's the general theme of the show? I gave [two friends] short descriptions about what I thought would be the intention of the show, but really vaguely. It had to be dreamy, intersectional and not going into roles, no gender. And it was also about walking. Dérive, You know?
RF: Like walking aimlessly?
MR: Oh, flaneur.
KN: Yeah, flaneur. At the moment I didn't yet know all the theories about women walking and the flaneurs, but I had this idea of a woman walking in a dreamy landscape, which makes a lot of sense now, but back then I really didn't understand it yet. And I just told them, write a text about this. They both wrote a page and it's strange because the texts are quite similar. Written in a different style, but there are so many things that are connected and I gave so little information. It was a bit weird. I put those texts in the exhibition. It was more this idea of how to present text. I think that text in exhibitions often is badly done and most of the time I don’t want to read it. So I wanted to have it so you could take it home, or at least it was some text in the exhibition, but it wasn't an explanation of what you saw. It was just some fictional, broad [thing]. I still really liked the texts. It's so nice to work with people that are your friends, but also just with other people and other minds. For me, it's a problem, I don't know what the exhibition is about. So then I just try to put the problem on other people's shoulders. [laughs]
MR: And so how did he come out? [pointing to the baby]
KN: From the 3D printer! You didn’t give him a name though, I expected something.
RF: I feel like there’s a “ph” in it. [saying gibberish names] Ok we got it. Phlimp!
KN: Phlimp?
MR: But spelled P H L I M P.
KN: That's a really good name. It's so original. You just made it up? It just screams Phlimp! That's cool.
RF: I just felt like he should have a “ph” sound. And then a P. That's just what I was getting!
MR: I see it. I feel it.
KN: Phlimp is excellent.
MR: We also wanted to ask; we couldn't find a personal website for you and you mainly publicize your work over social media. But it didn't seem like everything was necessarily there. And so we were curious, is there a reason you don't publicize your work more on the internet?
KN: Yeah, well, as I said, I really don't like Instagram. I preferred it if it didn't exist. I think Instagram is really dangerous for the way we perceive art. Now I think people adapt their work to make it photographable, which takes off a lot of the [context].
RF: Speaking about social media and what you show the world... For exhibitions and seeing your work in person, how do you want viewers to engage with your work? You talked a little bit about not having wall text or anything. But what context do you provide?
KN: Depends on the work. Well, what I realized with the last exhibition is that I want no context at all, actually. That would be my perfect situation, where there’s no context and I just give you this experience and you go away again. But then I realized that that's super elite. There were people coming to the exhibition and my aunt, for example, doesn't know anything about art and she saw the pictures and just said it looks nice, but she didn’t understand anything about it. And I was like, it is super exclusive to expect people to understand the effect without having anything to attach to. Art is already not that accessible, and then not giving it context? You're really asking a lot from people, and I never wanted it to be something elite. For me, it was more of a critique within contemporary art. It's more this counter idea, like, okay, I want to oppose that, but then I realized that that was also really niche and also a really contemporary art choice. I think it's nice to mix fiction and stories and how you would write things in books. For example, the exhibition 'We others' in Le Bal, where photographs of Donna Gottschalk were exhibited together with the writings of Hélène Giannecchini. I thought the balance was great, because the texts told stories, and the author was also present within these. It was a collaboration, not somebody trying to write about what we can already see.
MR: You just graduated in the spring, which is exciting. Congratulations! What are your plans now that you're out of school and does it feel daunting or freeing?
KN: Freeing, definitely. I love not being in school. I have this residency in Hamburg, which is from March onward. I'm preparing a project that I'm going to do there. It's about water techniques on fabric. Last summer, I dyed some fabric for a friend with natural dye and I really liked that. So, yeah, that's the idea. And to be a bit more precise, maybe, but I don't know. I'm free to do everything, but that's for this year. After that, I don’t know…
MR: That’s super interesting. Do you want to eat some cake?
[We all eat lemon cake together and chatter until we say our goodbyes]
- From “Delta Waves My Dear” (photo courtesy of artist)
- Ear (photo courtesy of artist)
- From Sketchbook (photo courtesy of artist)
- Phlimp, name collaboration (photo courtesy of artist)
- From “Delta Waves My Dear” (photo courtesy of artist)
- Red Bird (photo courtesy of artist)
- Border artwork untitled glove pieces
- Cindy Lee [musician]
- Etel Adnan [poet]
- Justin Chance [artist]
- David Lynch’s paintings [filmmaker]
- Hilma af Klint [artist]
- Eva Hesse [artist]
- Les Femmes aussi sont du voyage [Women travel too] by Lucie Azema [book]
- Tender Maps: Travels in Search of the Emotions of Place by Alice Maddicott [book]
- M Train by Patti Smith [book]
- Year of the Monkey by Patti Smith [book]
- Alibis: Essays of Elsewhere by André Acimen [book]
- Silvia Federici alongside Foucault [philosophers]
- Mika Rottenberg [artist]
- Ana Mendieta [artist]
- Ana Mendieta [artist]
- Donna Gottschalk [artist]
- We Others at Le Bal [exhibition]
- Pony Montreuil [gallery]
- Musée d’Art Moderne [museum]
- Megan Rooney [artist]
- Marc Chaimowicz [artist]
- Room with My Soul Left Out, Room That Does Not Care by Bruce Nauman at Hamburg Bahnhof in Berlin [exhibition]
- Guy Debord’s concept of dérive [philospher]
- Nancy Holt [artist]