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The Trip, 2011

The Trip, 2011

In col­lab­or­a­tion with Alex H.
HD Digit­al video, 16:9, 34:28 min
Audio record­ing by Mar­cus Coates. Cam­era and edit by Bevis Bowden
Com­mis­sioned and pro­duced by the Ser­pent­ine Gal­lery in col­lab­or­a­tion with St. John’s Hos­pice, London

In this pro­ject, Coates worked with patients at St. John’s Hos­pice in Lon­don. Won­der­ing what skills and reflec­tions on the world an artist might offer to people in the final stages of their lives, he asked patients, ‘ What can I do for you?’. Many pro­pos­als emerged and Coates chose to ful­fil the instruc­tions from one patient, the late Alex H., to travel to the Amazon Rain­forest and ask the inhab­it­ants of a remote vil­lage a set of pre-arranged ques­tions. On his return, Coates recoun­ted his exper­i­ences to Alex H. from memory, writ­ten notes and audio recordings.

The video shows the same fixed cam­era view of the hos­pice room and the street out­side both before the trip and on Coates’s return. Coates and Alex H. can be heard in con­ver­sa­tion off camera.


[Con­ver­sa­tion between Mar­cus Coates and Alex H. in St John’s Hos­pice in 2009, where Alex H. pro­poses a trip.]

MAR­CUS COATES: Earli­er, we talked about ways to say good­bye to the world, and how this could per­haps be a per­form­ance, or a jour­ney, or per­haps the res­ol­u­tion of an out­stand­ing issue or an unful­filled fantasy. Because of your con­di­tion we talked about how I could per­haps do this on your behalf.

ALEX H.: Yes.

MC: Have you had any thoughts about that?

AH: Quite a few, as most people in my con­di­tion would have. And I ended up think­ing, first and fore­most, that I had no regrets, because I think that if you do, it can be a stum­bling block for tak­ing things a stage fur­ther. I obvi­ously offen­ded a num­ber of people over time, but I usu­ally did so unin­ten­tion­ally, so I can for­give myself for that. Although, I do per­haps have one regret – that my trav­el­ling has been cur­tailed – because trav­el­ling was an essen­tial part of my life. The great thing is, I have had the exper­i­ence of being to vari­ous places, done vari­ous things, maybe they were slightly off the beaten track occa­sion­ally, but at least, sit­ting back, I’ve got my memor­ies. What I haven’t got are the memor­ies of the places that I wanted to go to, but nev­er made it to. 

MC: So those are unful­filled memories? 

AH: Yes.

MC: Do you think that you could sum up why travel has been import­ant to you, in your rela­tion­ship to the world? 

AH: It has been a bit of a quest for know­ledge. I don’t feel that you can judge people or a coun­try to any extent or any degree, unless you have been there. It helps you devel­op a more sym­path­et­ic under­stand­ing of oth­er peoples’ plight.

MC: And have you thought about a place that you would like to go to on this last journey? 

AH: Yes, a trip along the Amazon River, which is some­thing that I’ve always wanted to do. When I was young­er, I couldn’t afford it and didn’t have the time. Then you get older, and can afford it, and find the time, but you are restric­ted not only by health, but occa­sion­ally by age as well. And that is some­thing that, if you like, bugs me; some­thing that I should nev­er be able to do, regard­less of any mira­cu­lous cure or any­thing ike that.

MC: What is it about the Amazon that intrigues you?

AH: The unknown. 

MC: OK, so it would be an exper­i­ence of trav­el­ling by water, upstream, rather than in the air?

AH: Yes, and not in a very mod­ern boat. 

MC: If I am to do this I need to know what to bring back to you. 

AH: The chal­lenge. It’s very important.

MC: I think this is some­thing very import­ant. Not just the phys­ic­al trip, but the attempt to bring that jour­ney back to you – that’s really my chal­lenge. Do you think that this trip would have chal­lenged you?

AH: I couldn’t do it now, because of my health.

MC: But even if you were healthy, do you think it would have chal­lenged you?

AH: Oh yes. It isn’t so much about over­com­ing fears, it’s try­ing to prove to your­self wheth­er you could cope or not. It’s about try­ing to find out some­thing about your­self or your per­son­al­ity; how far you can push your­self. If you did this trip – you would have to over­come some of your own basic fears. 

MC: I don’t think I have any par­tic­u­lar fears. Rather, I have more basic, human fears about get­ting ill, and the unknown.

AH: Don’t we all – where do you think I’m going! 

I think we all need a bit of a chal­lenge in life, and when you know it’s not going to be that long, maybe even more of a challenge.

MC: Yes, I do think I want to be chal­lenged by it. For me, it’s just as much about giv­ing you the oppor­tun­ity, as it is, for me, about hav­ing the oppor­tun­ity to go and do this. That’s quite import­ant: the priv­ilege to be able to explore your ima­gin­a­tion, and enrich it.

AH: To do it with someone else’s eyes and mind. 

MC: That’s the slight fear for me: to go and do all this, and risk that what I tell you might be inad­equate for your imagination. 

AH: I can’t think it will be dis­ap­point­ing, because it’s some­thing that I want to know about.

[…]

MC: Is there any­thing that you’d want me to bring back, apart from my exper­i­ences? Do you col­lect anything?

AH: If you’re talk­ing to people with a ter­min­al ill­ness, why say col­lect’? What do mater­i­al things do for you? What’s the point of it? Are you going to look down or upon it later on?

MC: The idea of a souven­ir is totally redundant.

AH: In my opin­ion it is. My policy now is to get rid of clutter!

MC: If this jour­ney goes ahead, it will have to be planned rel­at­ively soon. I think we need to be hon­est with each oth­er about the time scale for this.

AH: I have no idea of my time span.

MC: Hope­fully I’ll be able to do the jour­ney and get back to you rel­at­ively quickly.

AH: I’m not plan­ning any­thing, but I’m not in com­plete control!

MC: Can you ima­gine that this jour­ney, if I did this for you, would be help­ful or bene­fi­cial or some­how worth­while for you?

AH: That’s a hard ques­tion. I think it would, but in a very selfish way. It would be import­ant that someone had put them­selves out to do it on my behalf. That I could re-live for a few seconds or half an hour, whatever it is, some­thing I’ve wanted to do. But then I don’t know if it mat­ters one iota if I’m going any­way, to have that extra exper­i­ence or a second-hand exper­i­ence. It’s not going to alter the whole final­ity of my life.

MC: It’s just anoth­er experience?

AH: I don’t know, and I don’t think any­one can tell you what exper­i­ence you carry on with you, provid­ing you carry on in some aspect or another.

MC: Thank you, that was very interesting.

AH: I bet you will edit this con­ver­sa­tion down and think What a load of crap!’ [Laughs]. Any­way, one can only try to be as hon­est as pos­sible. It’ll be a chal­lenge to you as well, which I quite like the idea of! [Laughs].

MC: I think that’s good, just as much as you need chal­lenges in your life, I think you need to chal­lenge oth­er people.

AH: Yes, I think that’s a truism.

MC: Great, I think I’ve got my brief and my mis­sion, thank you very much Alex.

AH: Not at all.

(Tran­script excerpt)


[On his return, Mar­cus Coates dis­cusses his trip with Alex H.]

AH: How was your trip, or should I say, our trip?

MC: I don’t really know how to start explain­ing, it was…

AH: Dif­fer­ent?

MC: Well, it was wonderful. 

AH: I can believe it! 

[…]

MC: It was incred­ible, see­ing all that green, see­ing that can­opy stretch for as far as you could see. The rain­forest is so immense.

AH: I should think that it’s quite awe-inspiring.

MC: It just makes you feel very, very small. Then you start pick­ing up details when you look down (from the small plane), you see rivers, small trib­u­tar­ies, and occa­sion­ally you see a huge, white tree.

AH: White?

MC: Almost like it is dead; a huge, white tree. I learnt later it’s the Kapok tree, a very import­ant tree for the tribe I was going to see. We landed after about half an hour. We star­ted des­cend­ing, nearly to the can­opy – it felt like we were touch­ing the trees – and then the plane just dropped onto this grassy land­ing strip, and the wheels were skid­ding, and we were going all over the place, until it finally stopped. That was all quite dra­mat­ic. When I got out of the plane it took off again imme­di­ately. I looked around and could just see green – just green every­where! Everything around me was new to me, and so excit­ing. I thought to myself, I could spend a day talk­ing to Alex just about this. You don’t know where to look, you don’t know what to focus on – it’s just a green mass, and then sud­denly a huge dragon­fly that’s about ten inches long would zip by and that would take all of your focus, and then you’d move on to anoth­er thing. To start with, I couldn’t really see any details because the atmo­sphere was just so per­vas­ive. What really hit me was this green – the intens­ity of it, and the sounds – of the insects, even in the middle of the day, and of birds all around us. They were really, really present. The insects were very loud, buzz­ing and chirp­ing around me. If you ima­gine the sound of dif­fer­ent types of cica­das all around us, but intens­i­fied, that’s what it felt like.

AH: Did they attack you?

MC: No. I ima­gined that I’d be bit­ten as soon as I got off the plane, but as it hap­pens, no. It felt like a friendly place – quite benign. 

AH: Some­times in that type of envir­on­ment, did you ever feel totally insignificant?

MC: Abso­lutely, I felt totally insignificant!

AH: That’s good, because I def­in­itely would have.

[…]

MC: Then we got into the canoe, which was quite long – maybe about six metres or more, cut out of a single trunk – a beau­ti­ful object, with very basic wooden seats cut out for us. Huemi (a Huaor­ani Guide) was at the back and his son was at the front; they had poles, so they were punt­ing the canoe. I asked the trans­lat­or, Why don’t they use paddles?’, and he replied that they don’t use paddles, they’ve nev­er used paddles – they only use poles. So both of them were punt­ing, put­ting all their force onto the poles and just push­ing us along.

AH: So the river is not that deep?

MC: It’s not deep at all, no. We punted down for about an hour along this river, and the river is just strewn with debris of trees and branches. Huemi and his son nav­ig­ated all of this so skil­fully with this very long canoe; it was quite impress­ive. I’d ima­gined that the river would be very wide and open, but it was quite enclosed. On either side of the bank, the trees just stretched up – a cathed­ral of trees, over­hanging the river. You’d get small grasses and palms at the bot­tom, then really tall thin trees, palms, and Kapok trees and Balsa trees – all sorts. The guide then star­ted talk­ing about all the dif­fer­ent types of wood we saw, the vari­ety was just enorm­ous. There were vines hanging down into the water – thick vines and thin, string-like vines. All the time, there were birds fly­ing around us. King­fish­ers were fly­ing along­side us, and swal­lows. All the time you could hear birds singing on both sides. 

AH: And in the mean­time you’ve got the move­ment of the canoe of course?

MC: Well, the canoe was quite stable, but you do have its con­stant move­ment from one side of the bank to the oth­er. And the river did really bend around, draw­ing S‑shapes. So much so that quite often they form Oxbow lakes, so you find lagoons on either side of the river. These are often inhab­ited by small Cai­man cro­codiles, and amaz­ing pea­cock-like birds called Hoatzins’, which are quite smelly! [Laughs.] There is a really inter­est­ing mix­ture of hab­it­ats, but I think I just really wanted to get across this lush­ness, and the snak­ing of the river which flows back on itself with hair-pins bends. It seems that the Huaor­ani meas­ure dis­tance along the river by the amount of bends. If you ask them how long there is to go, they will answer in the num­ber of bends. We trav­elled for maybe an hour or so, until we reached the place where we were going to stay. The Huaor­ani ter­rit­ory is vast, made up of a num­ber of vil­lages. Prob­ably about three thou­sand people live in these. But the Huaor­ani are rel­at­ively nomad­ic and move between the vil­lages quite often.

[…]

There were lots of fam­il­ies there just sit­ting and chat­ting, with a fire going in the corner. There I was intro­duced to Moi’s (lead­er of the vil­lage) moth­er, she’s in her eighties, and she only speaks Wao, the Huaor­ani lan­guage. So I asked her your ques­tion. This was trans­lated for me into Span­ish by my Ecuadori­an guide, who then asked a Huaor­ani man in Span­ish, and he trans­lated that into Wao for the woman. So there were four of us in this chain of questions!

AH: I hope it wasn’t like that party game, where one ends up ask­ing the wrong question!

MC: That was my worry, really, that my ques­tion would end up a bit diluted and changed – but I don’t think that was the prob­lem. Not that there was a prob­lem – but I do think that there was just a dif­fer­ent sense of things, so some of the ques­tions were quite dif­fi­cult to get across. The first ques­tion that you had asked me to ask them was about what makes them tick. I really wanted to ask her, and not someone like Moi who had trav­elled, someone who could remem­ber what it was like in the early 20th century. 

AH: Yes, quite.

MC: I wanted to ask her what made her tick, but thought that might be a prob­lem – trans­lat­ing tick’. So I asked her what made her happy, and that was trans­lated into Span­ish, and then into Wao. And she said – I’ve writ­ten notes here just so I remem­ber – that what makes her happy is when every­body is alive and togeth­er, and that when someone dies, many, many people feel very sad. But when they are alive and in good health, she is happy. And also, when people come and vis­it her, and vis­it the Huaor­ani, this makes her happy.

[…]

MC: Well, I came away feel­ing really, truly priv­ileged to have been able to meet them.

AH: Exhil­ar­ated or not?

MC: Totally exhil­ar­ated. I was sad that I had to leave, actu­ally. Very sad to leave. Even though I had ant bites on me and infec­ted wounds on my hands. I did feel very ener­gised and really clear-headed.

AH: There was an enorm­ous amount to absorb in just a few days though.

MC: And I think a lot of that reluct­ance to leave was the total desire to be able to absorb more inform­a­tion. Almost like being a child in a sweet shop, see­ing all these things that I wanted to learn about and under­stand more. And exper­i­ence. I was des­per­ate to become more intim­ate with their way of life, to under­stand that more. But I felt that they were quite con­sidered about the time that they put aside for meet­ing people from the out­side, and then the time that they got on with things for them­selves, the things that they would and wouldn’t share. I thought that that was quite good. 

AH: It does sound abso­lutely fascinating.

[…]

AH: Did you find that doing this on my behalf, some­times you wanted to dom­in­ate and take over? I don’t think one could have res­isted it, and I can’t ima­gine that you are that self-con­trolled. I could be wrong. 

MC: Yes, I kept think­ing, Is this some­thing that Alex would be inter­ested in, should I focus on this, or this over here? I’m get­ting really inter­ested in this, but would Alex get inter­ested in it?’ In the end I had to just go with what I would do, in a way, and just ima­gine that whatever sparked my ima­gin­a­tion, those would have to be the bits that I brought back to you in the end, because those are the bits that are most lived through, and the things that are the most vibrant for me. I just assumed that I would be able to talk to you in a way that trans­mit­ted that vibrancy and that life. I thought that, because I couldn’t help liv­ing it for myself, this would be the best way to live it for you, and that hope­fully it would inform your own ima­gin­a­tion, and you going up this river into the unknown.

AH: The unknown for some people is way out in the dis­tance, and for oth­er people it’s a little near­er. One is always going into the unknown. You don’t have to have an ill­ness to know that. With your inter­pret­a­tion, I’ve been able to exper­i­ence some­thing, not com­pletely as if I was doing it myself – you can’t expect that – but it’s got very near it. 

MC: That’s great. Shall I play you some sounds now? 

AH: Yes, please.

MC: I don’t know if you remem­ber, I told you about the Kapok tree. Well, the harpy eagle nests in it. Their story of the ori­gins of life come from the rela­tion­ship between this huge tree and this impress­ive bird. When Huemi showed me a Kapok tree he told me this story, and when the Huaor­ani speak of this tree they have to sing this song. So this is him, telling his tale, and then singing the song. 

[Plays record­ing of song.]

AH: Thank you.

MC: Thank you, Alex.

(Tran­script excerpt)

[Artist’s note: Alex died not long after this inter­view. In our last con­ver­sa­tion we con­tin­ued to talk about our trip. He said that he often went down the river and into the jungle when he needed to.]

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