#festivalreport

[tietenmethaar]

This weekend, we attended the very first edition of BABF in the beautiful city of Bergen, Norway. The book festival was located in an old slaughterhouse turned into an arts center. A beautiful and cosy setting made room for a book market and a stage, where we watched talks and concerts. We especially enjoyed By The Waterhole's release party gig. Everybody was sweet, friendly and helpful, and we met some really incredible people. We're glad we could be a part of it!

[tietenmethaar]

It's raining outside the karaoke bar: TMH in Brussels

No, this time we didn't go very far. We took our bags full of books for a 45mn ride to the capital. I sat in the car with Dries and we discussed, amongst other things, his thought-provoking stickers. "You should put your name on it. They're so anonymous" I told him.

"I don't want to be known as the dick guy..."

When we arrived in cultural center 'Maison des cultures' in Saint Gilles, Alice Milani (La Trama) was already there. We shared a table with our two collectives' publications. Our paths often cross and Mathilde Vangheluwe and I had participated to their new project Coppie Miste, a series of five little books, each made by two different authors. During the three days of the festival, we also came up with new ideas for collaborations, which goes to show that sitting behind tables is not wasted time.

One thing we noticed immediately in Cultures Maison: the quality of the books on display was very high. There were well known publishers of great books, such as FRMK, Bries and Nobrow, but also quantities of small publishers and collectives which gave a good idea of what is happening in Belgium now. I bought amongst other things Belgian cartoonist Steve Michiels' new book, Crépuscule Civil : 164 pages of darkness, crime, mystery, absurdity, humor, nudity and bar fights.

There was a fabulous exhibition by KutiKuti (Finland) downstairs. Monsters of bright colored cardboard were coming out of the ground and beautiful work was hanging on the walls.

A personal favourite is the work of Amanda Vähämäki with her sensitive lines, blurred smudges and lively expressions. She has been edited in french by FRMK and co-founded the italian collective Canicola.

After the first night was done, people were scattering and we went to a karaoke bar with the good people of Salade de Frites, a collective from Liège. In the bar, everybody was singing together and fighting for the microphone. French classics and some Britney Spears.  It's my Life was sung by a girl who really meant business - eat your heart out, Bon Jovi. A muscly bouncer was there to make sure the fun was not getting out of control.

"No sitting on the tables"

On saturday, there was a presentation about GRANDPAPIER, an online comics platform by l'employé du moi. Another project by l'employé du moi is this online catalogue of fanzines you can print at home, for free. Using the same simple folding system we used for our summer edition.

Sunday was rainy and sticky. Still, the typical Belgian weather didn't stop the crowd eager to buy books : the weekend ended on a high note. With that in mind, through the bad weather, we went for last drinks with new friends, already thinking about the next festival.

[tietenmethaar]

Tits in HEL - Helsingin sarjakuvafestivaalit

Last thursday, I left Belgium for the comics festival in Helsinki with fellow comic book artists Thijs Desmet and Charlotte Dumortier, both regular TMH contributors. Upon arrival at the airport in Helsinki, we learned our first word in finnish: Kiitos (thank you). As it was written on a garbage bin, we were a bit unsure at first if it meant "thank you" or "garbage bin".

We were kindly hosted by hard-working festival coordinator Kati and by local cool kid Tiia. At Kati's place we met Chantal Malambri from the crack! festival in Rome which we attended earlier this year. Kati told us about a party for the release of the new Kuti magazine. "My friend is the DJ. His name is DJ Kalakukkos. That's a traditional dish, it's like a fish in a bread."

That night we ran into canadian artist Julie Delporte. She was a guest at the festival, presenting her new book Journal ( Koyama press), a colourful diary that first appeared in french on her blog. The theme of this years' festival was North America, and guests included Michael DeForge, John Martz, Philippe Girardin, Joe Ollmann, Lili Carré and Howard Chacowitz.

At the tent, we were located between David Kerr from Glasgow and the polish representative for the festivalLigatura in Poznań, Magda. Our other neighbors included kuš! from Latvia and Manuel 'Lolo' from Spain, who owns the coolest gallery in Madrid, Watdafac. There were some Simon Hanselmann originals on his table and we were dying. Apparently Lolo also means "really big tits" in finnish. "Everybody laughs when I tell them my name." We also had our share of hairy tits-related reactions. Somebody thought we were called "heritage". I'm happy we're not called heritage.

We looked around and were amazed by the number of men with long hair and long beards. "Vikings", said Thijs. The style of the Helsinki people was absolutely mad compared to Belgium. While we were sitting at the table, we spotted rainbow hair, a flower dress on a big man whose cap said I'M NASTY, a skinny man in impossibly tight and shiny latex pants, school girls from a school in hell, a man who had shaved his hair like he put his head in a toaster, and many more. It was refreshing and heartwarming to see all those true anti-conformists.

Somewhere in between selling books, we met a guy from Antwerp called Grimm, who emigrated to Helsinki. To our great amusement, his friend made up finnish-sounding nicknames for us. He had some problems with Thijs: "what's his last name? Okay, he can be Smit".

On friday there was a drawing battle at a club called Dubrovnic. The canadians were battling the fins in a ruthless combat that involved trashing eachother's drawing at the end. A man in a black suit, torn leggings and pilot goggles called "Black Peider" (not spider) was running the show beautifully. He was also playing in the band on saturday's event in a place called Mascot. The canadians won by writing CANADA all over the fins' drawing, and some drinking and dancing ensued.

We were staying in Malmi, "the ghetto". There were lovely little wooden houses with gardens, squirrels , hares and a hedgehog. "OOOh what IS that" screamed Charlotte as she first spotted the prickly little creature running in the grass. "Mi amore" shouted Chantal. "Ouch", I said, as I tried to pet it. The poor animal waited patiently for the drunken girls to go away. "In finnish, it's called Siili", Kati explained. The limited finnish we learned so far didn't help us to order a pizza in Malmi. We tried to explain 'vegetarian' to somebody who didn't speak english by drawing pictures of animals that we crossed out. In the end he called his colleague and the pizza was ordered through the phone. Other culinary experiences included a chinese restaurant named Bamboo center. It was run by a small bossy lady who made herself known by shouting "chopstiiiicks! who wants chopstiiiicks!" For nine euros I got a delicious, full plate of curry tofu. We also tasted 'Salmari', liquid salty licorice with alcohol. Charlotte and I agreed it was the best drink that was ever made. Another popular finnish drink is Lonkero, which contains gin, means "tentacle" and was introduced especially for the 1952 summer Olympics as a compromise during the prohibition. On the last evening, we said goodbye to all the sweet people we met, and almost missed our train back to the ghetto. Thanks to Tiia who looked up the schedule, we were saved from freezing to death in the finnish night (just kidding, the weather was actually better than in Belgium). The organisation of the festival was incredible. We are so thankful to everybody who worked so hard to make it all possible. It's our hope to come back next year!

[tietenmethaar]

postcard from Italy - tits in Rome

We landed in Rome on saturday evening, before the last day of the Crack! comics festival. After an exciting taxi ride where our driver almost ran over a hardly impressed old man, we found our friend Silvia Rocchi from La Trama. She took us to the Forte Prenestino, a prison built in 1880, now a self-managed social center (CSOA) where the festival was taking place. There was an underground labyrinth of little cells painted white, each holding a different collective/organization - Tieten met haar would share a space with La Trama and Inuit, a cultural association and bookstore based in Bologna. Walking around the maze, we came across the lovely and talented Inès Estrada who designed the festival's poster. "Do you want some Belgian beer?" we asked her. Some drunken italian man intervened and grabbed the bottle. He attempted to drink but missed his mouth or something and spilled beer over Inès' books. "You pay now!" she quickly said to the guy, but there was no reasoning with him. We hung our heads in shame. Later in the evening, after seeing a brass band play old italian songs, we sat in the garden with some Portuguese and Swiss people who had found an enormous jug of unidentified alcohol and were teaching us to say "hairy tits" in their respective languages. The sun chased us from our tent at about twelve o'clock the next day. We ate some pizza, had a trip to the supermarket ("no pictures" a shop assistant said as we were trying to pose with melons as boobs) and it was time for the festival to start again. We sold a couple of books, many stickers but mostly had good laughs with the people from Inuit and La Trama.

On sunday, we had some time off and went to the beach in Ostia. Later, we visited the city by night - taking a very early plane has its advantages. There was nobody but us in front of the oversized, ultra dramatic fountains of Rome. "some dudes built this shit", Mathilde said, rightfully so : the thought was amazing. After our checklist of italian wine, coffee, pizza, ice cream and mozzarella was complete, it was time to go home. We hope to come back for the whole festival next year!

[tietenmethaar]

drinking in the library - tits in Oslo

"This is tieten met haar", our festival friend Bendik introduces us to the Oslo comic people. We are sitting in the Drinky Crow café, a room under the roof in the public library where the Oslo comics expo is taking place. Somebody thought it was a good idea to paint the place black : it's like a dark, friendly oven. We sweat and shake hands while trying to register the norwegian names in our brains.

We had arrived earlier this friday and were taken on a walking tour around the city by photographer Ena Kreso. "That's the ugly part" she said, pacing fast through the streets, although we can't really tell, everything seems gorgeous to us. It's summer in  Oslo. When we arrive at Ena's apartment, Jana installs herself in a chair in front of a huge open window  "I'm making up for months of Belgian winter"

On saturday, we prepare ourselves for the market place. We get some coffee at 7-Eleven, our food-provider for the next couple of days. We are so excited to be there that our hunger has disappeared : we survive on a couple of greasy bread products. In the library, people are already taking books out of enormous carton boxes.

We have brought with us the stickers of TMH#1 contributor Dries Warlop, wonderful detailed penis drawings that contrast with the usual dick-doodles you can find on typical bathroom doors. We were a bit unsure of the norwegian response to this, but once again it's our best selling item and the source of many giggles. Only one man seems slightly shocked "Okay, so who's to blame for this?" he asks. "Is there a blame? Aren't they nice?" I ask, but my question remains unanswered.

A swedish man with crazy facial hair named Stefan buys a couple of them. Later on, we have a chat outside with him. "He's a magician", his friend Svante says. To prove this,  Stefan imitates a bird with his moustache. The impression is stunning. In the evening, we are so privileged as to witness a mini show with many tricks : ballpens disappear and reappear out of pockets, cards are flying from one hand to the other at the speed of light, a shoe appears behind an ear : we feel like small children with gaping mouths.

"Hey, Tieten met haar - this is my language!" a woman dressed as if she lives on a farm in the country says, flipping through the second edition of our fanzine. We are surprised to meet fellow Belgians who are busy cooking bread on a canoe oven (yes, a canoe oven) outside of the festival. They are part of something called the Flatbread Society - Flatbread Society is a growing constellation of farmers, oven builders, astronomers, artists, soil scientists and bakers aligned through a common interest in the long and complex relation we have to grain, their website reads. Another woman of their group sports a straw hat and a tanned face. "They are people of the earth", we concur.

After the market, there is a party in the library. We are taught to say tieten met haar in norwegian. "pupper med hår. pupppper med hår" we repeat, conscientiously. Everybody is so lovely and friendly that it makes up for the expensive, warm beer. Who said scandinavian people were cold and distant? It's not just comic book people : on the bus, at cafés, we find everybody talkative and easy-going. The evening ends on a roof, where we notice the lack of darkness in the norwegian summer : there is barely any night.

On sunday, we visit the exhibition of Sindre Goksøyr at Briskeby Gallery, whom we have met with Bendik at several comics festivals. Together with other artists they founded the collective Dongery. Sindre's silkscreens are wonderfully funny illustrations. Our favourite was this huge image of what we imagine is a typical norwegian day at the lake.  

In the evening, we go to a popular venue called Blå, where a cover band called Frank Znort Quartet plays every sunday of the month since the 90's. 'We fuck up your mondays', they proudly claim on Blå's website. "They start acoustic, and after ten they go electric", Svante explains. The club is packed and people are dancing and drinking, ignorant of any notions of personal space, pushing each other around in a clumsy fashion. We would forgive those cute norwegians almost anything, including an elbow in our face.

It was the perfect end to our stay, which has been nothing but good times. We take the plane on monday morning after a sleepless night and end as we started : sleepy, on the floor of a belgian train.