1 C


My name is Brigitte. I’m 23 and I live in Graz and I grew up here as well. I’m studying here, European ethnology, also about people. It took me a while to figure out the thing I want to study. I like to live in other places as well – from time to time – I was in Scotland, next year I’m in Germany because there you meet the people and that’s all the fun. From time to time I also work, because I always need money to live and I work in a café, which is all right because it’s really beautiful and there is a nice garden. You should come on Monday. I like knitting socks and scarfs. I like gardens and I like water, so I like sitting in boats on the river, which you can do in Graz as well because Graz is a great city. I like doing Origami things as well.


2 C


Pronoun used by a speaker to refer to himself or herself refers to a person who:


(1) has a feminine given name. It is the French and German form of Bridget. The name may refer to: Brigitte Bardot (born 1934), a French actress and singer; Brigitte Becue (born 1972), a Belgian breaststroke swimmer; Brigitte Fossey (born 1946), a French actress; Brigitte Foster-Hylton (born 1974), a Jamaican hurdling athlete; Brigitte Lahaie (born 1955), a French porn actress; Brigitte Lin (born 1954), a Taiwanese actress; Brigitte Mohnhaupt (born 1949), a Red Army Faction member; Brigitte Nielsen (born 1963), a Danish actress; Brigitte Soucy (born 1972), a Canadian volleyball player.


(2) is 23


(3) lives in a city on the Mur River in southern Austria


(4) grew up in (3)


(5) is studying in (3) the field of anthropology focusing on Europe, also about human beings in general or considered collectively


(6) states that it took a while to figure out the object that one need not, cannot, or does not wish to give a specific name to but that the person wants to study.


(7) likes to live in other particular positions or points in space from time to time


(8) was in a country in northern Great Britain in the United Kingdom


(9) will be in a country in central Europe on the Baltic Sea in the north next time taken by a planet to make one revolution around the sun  because there you meet the human beings in general and that’s all the fun.


(10) needs the current medium of exchange in the form of coins and banknotes to live


(11) works in virtue of (10) from time to time


(12) works in a small restaurant selling light meals and drinks


(13) states that (12) is satisfactory because it is in actual fact pleasing to the senses or mind aesthetically and there is a nice piece of land, often near a house, used for growing flowers, fruit, or vegetables.


(14) supposes that you should come on Monday.


(15) likes knitting garments for the foot and lower part of the leg, typically from wool, cotton, or nylon and lengths or squares of fabric worn around the neck or head


(16) likes:


(a) pieces of land, often near a house, used for growing flowers, fruit, or vegetables

(b) the colourless, transparent, odourless, tasteless liquid that forms seas, lakes, rivers, and rain and is the basis of the fluids of living organisms


(17) likes sitting in small vessels propelled through (16b) by oars, sails, or an engine on:


(a) a large natural stream of water flowing through a channel to the sea

(b) a large body of water surrounded by land

(c) another small, narrow river, which you can do in a city on the Mur River in southern Austria as well because the city is a great city


(18) likes doing the Japanese art of folding material manufactured in thin sheets from the pulp of wood or other fibrous substances into decorative shapes and figures.

Uncertainty in everything


nothing is straightforward and turns are

everywhere, the only

straightforward constant is death. Dead

people, all of those I’ve ever

seen, have diminished, caved in on

themselves, were tiny

like overgrown toddlers and

straightforward, lying,

horizontal bodies and horizontal minds.

Silence must be straightforward.

When grandma was dying, when her time was drawing near, she got smaller

every day, she started to resemble a teddy

bear. She shrivelled up, was constantly sleeping and yawning. Whenever someone

yawns, I think of her.

Death doesn’t arouse fear or defiance in me, but wonder. Whenever someone

yawns, I’m not afraid he will die, but the notion I have is unpleasant, that

I will experience that wonder of the unfamiliar again. That he is unfamiliar again. I yawn so

that no one

can see me. Maybe not, maybe I yawn and don’t know about it. I don’t know whether it

is true,


the last time I was at my grandpa’s, late at night, grandpa was yawning,

and I didn’t want him to die. I’d be surprised if he were gone. If gone was

one version of the world. Corporeal, heart-warming, unfathomably close and

every movement (because

the movements of this unfamiliar body

are so familiar

to me) reproduced in me. I probably won’t

remember a single

word – I don’t remember words – but the

body and voice.

I saw myself on video once, I was saying something – it was in high school – I was pretending to be our math teacher, when I was through with it, I was supposed to play myself. I made movements and gestures, which seemed awkward, disjointed, inappropriate to me. When

I was doing them, I felt

so sure of them and yet in the reality


the camera captured, I didn’t want to

identify with them.

I didn’t recognize them. I couldn’t tie in to them. I just know the gestures and movements of people around me, I don’t realize my own ones and around-the-clock self-reflection would destroy me. I’m afraid to deal with something as trivial as myself, but in fact I do nothing else. To dig out. Or dig through. To get out, under it, over it, to see the narrative, recount it and start another. But once again I’m sitting in front of a pile of myself – not again, I’m sitting once more in front of the place where I should assemble a pile of my own body, emotions, thoughts, perceptions, that place is empty because it’s not possible to grasp it all at once. Hana laughs at me for constantly dreaming of some kind of models, systems or procedures I would like to use to achieve this, but sooner or later, they collapse and get twisted and become just another piece along the path from which I should (should I really?) pick it all up and arrange it in a pile, or at least into that sort of mess you have in your room which looks like a clutter to everyone and only you know very well where everything is. And then move on. I remember this chaotic order. I know it existed. And that it exists no longer. I have to. I don’t have to!, but I want to start again. Ondřej, the body of Ondřej and the mind of Ondřej are sitting on a wooden chair, probably Thonet, at a round, silvery café table whose surface is decorated with polish in the pattern of some kind of silver scales. The table, chair and Ondřej are on a stage which resembles a quarter note – a circle or oval with a little black stem attached to it. The stage is stuck into the corner of the room in the shape of an irregular quadrangular with high ceilings, papers covered in writing are situated on the left wall, there are blank papers taped irregularly to the right wall and both walls are connected by a black elastic band, in the middle of which is another paper with the number 4 on it attached to a paper clip. The room connects to another one where a video is being screened, in front of the entrance to the room, there are another two rooms on the left and right where more videos are being displayed. In the room itself, apart from the table, chair, stage and Ondřej, there is also a glowing sign indicating the escape route (and the situation is therefore not hopeless) and furthermore: a data projector, a backpack, a bottle of water, wooden numbers 1, 2, 3, and 5, a sign with the number 44 above the door to the room with Ruti’s video, 7 floodlights and 2 battens from which cables lead to an outlet above the doorframe with the number 44 sign.



Ondřej Buddeus — A me


Is part of Ondřej Buddeus‘s participation in the Adaptation.


“But the need to adapt, uncoordinatedly, individualistically, without any authority, leader and order, to changes we initiate ourselves. Adaptation signifies now (asynchronously) and here (various places) an affinity with Utopia, which remains a non-place. Adaptation to conditions of reality which the collective dialectic of individuals without leader and order themselves create.“


Babi Badalov, Hafiz, Lia Perjovschi, Loulou Chérinet, Ondřej Buddeus, Ruti Sela, Shady Elnoshokaty, Vít Havránek, Xu Tan, Zbyněk Baladrán.



Curatorial Consultant Visual Arts:

Anne Faucheret


Translation: © Tereza Novická, 2013.

Graphic design: www.mutanta.com


We would like to thank all participants of the festival who took part in the project.


We would also like to thank

the following individuals:

Hana Buddeus, Věra Krejčová,

Antonín Mareš


Published by Steirischer Herbst Festival

GMBH Graz 2012 in collaboration with




© Ondřej Buddeus, 2013

ISBN: 978-80-87259-18-4


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