ABOUT THE AUTHORS

 GUIDO VERMEULEN - Belgian poet. Creator of Friour Network Magazine, which started as a reaction against the war in Iraq. Friour is ‘the result of crossovers between different networks and a shared zine, meaning that several editors from these different network environments could make an issue around a theme’, he explains. The Dragon poems were written for issue 3, ‘Finding Myths for a Lost Time’ co-edited with Marisa Antonaya, a Spanish artist at present living in Thailand and the Mariko of his poem 'Dragon in a Bottle'.

 MARTHA AITCHISON - Artist, born in Argentina now living in London and curator of the Shopping Trolley Gallery, a display of artwork sent to her by post on the trolley that carries the family shopping from the supermarket to her home. The purpose of this mobile installation-cum-performance is to open Mail Art to the public or, as she puts it, ‘to inflict Mail Art on innocent bystanders’. She wrote the story of Drac just for fun, an activity in which she indulges occasionally as antidote for the sorry state of this world. The Dragon images in this book were her contribution to Friour 3, in homage to all the Gods that lay forgotten in the collective unconscious of humanity.

 GIANNI SIMONE - Italian artist living and working in Japan. Editor of Kairan, an open format magazine dedicated to the discussion of Mail Art topics. Kairan, that is ‘read and pass on’ in Japanese, means exactly that but also it means that it can be freely photocopied and redistributed. It is the successor of Numero, the Mail Art zine that was edited by Wilfried Nold for many years. A very outspoken editor, contributing at times somewhat explosive arguments, Gianni joins actively in the discussions in every issue. After all, as he says, the privilege of being editor is that ‘this way nobody will be able to tell me to shut up’ 

NOW YOU SEE IT, NOW YOU DON'T

Random notes on home-made mythology

 I am a Dragon. I mean, I was born in 1964, which according to the Chinese zodiac is the Year of the Dragon. It’s a pretty good sign: differently from European mythology, which likes to picture dragons as evil monsters that eventually must succumb to some righteous Christian hero, Eastern Asians consider them as good fellows, and have imbued them with a number of positive values. Unfortunately I’ve never seen a dragon myself, and I’ve never found any evidence of their existence, apart from the Land of the Heavenly Dragon (LaHD), that was briefly a member of the International Mail Art Council of Virtual Lands (IMACOVL) before being overthrown by a revolution (the Lord of LaHD was not exactly a democratic ruler…).

 That’s why I was very surprised – and envious – when I heard that Martha Aitchison had a dragon living in her frog pond. I wonder why these things always happen to other people… It’s not that Martha doesn’t deserve it, mind you. After all, her Buddhist faith probably makes her the right person to be blessed with such a gift. In her own words, Buddhism is “an eminently logical system to make sense of life”. Therefore I guess that only someone who embraces “religious logic” – and a “good”, peaceful religion like Buddhism - is able to see dragons…

Of course when I say ‘religion’, I do not necessarily mean the commonly accepted, organised cults. Everybody can have his or her personal approach to this subject. Take, for example, Guido Vermeulen. He is constantly playing with signs, stones, snakes, turtles, what have you, always stressing the humorous side of things (burping Buddhas, anyone?), always avoiding the pompousness of the holier-than-thou defenders of orthodoxy.  

 So it was just natural for Martha and Guido to collaborate on this book, originally thought as a contribution to a project on New Myths (part of Guido’s activities with his Friour Network Magazine). I wanted to comment on these poems and graphics, but then I realized that explaining or judging religion, mythology, or whatever you want to call this (I’d say ‘poetry’), would be like rationalising on something that must be felt more than understood. The only thing I want to stress is the lesson that Martha and Guido are trying to teach us: do not try to change things according to your selfish needs, but rather reduce your ego and try to blend with the world.

Gianni Simone,June 2003.

THE STORY OF DRAC

as it was related to me 

by Her Majesty Martha the First of Artsnalia

St. Enimie and Drac, after a medieval wall mosaic

at the church of Saint Enimie 

in the village of the same name in  France.

Once upon a time, in Medieval France, Clotaire III King of the Francs lived happily with his son Dagobert, later famous as a king because of his pants, and his daughter Enimie. The Princess like all princesses was very beautiful, so much so that men just would not leave her a moment alone; we know how she felt, we had the same trouble when we were a young princess. Anyhow she got so tired of her suitors that she began to pray for some relief from all this unwanted attention. God All-Compassionate responded to this prayer by giving her leprosy, which of course solved immediately her problem.

 The ungrateful girl was not happy with this solution, neat as it was, and decided to try the waters of a spring renown for its health giving properties, far away South near the river Tarn. Accompanied by a few courtiers she travelled for days on horseback, completely covered up not to frighten the horses, until she reached the village of Burle where the miraculous spring was. Here she rested and bathed and immediately her skin was healed and she was as beautiful as she had always been.

 The next day the Royal party began the journey back but as soon as they left Burle the leprosy took hold again of the Princess and they had to return for Enimie to have another wash. This happened three times as is traditional in these stories after which all got tired of the washing and drying, the packing and unpacking, the saddling and unsaddling and decided to stay put. The Princess realised that she better made a virtue of necessity and not wanting to appear ungrateful after her previous experience decided to build a monastery and live there for the rest of her life, which would solve the problem of the suitors as well.Princess and courtiers started on this task with great enthusiasm drafting in as well the local labour force and even a hermit that went by the name of Hilaire who lived in a cave on the rocky canyon cut by the Tarn.  

It came to pass that the resident Dragon of that river used to sleep soundly all day long on the river bed until the evening, tired from working night after night at making rain to water the crops. As the sun set he would stretch and yawn getting ready for his nightly duties and it was then that the flick of his tail would catch on the construction work. So, as fast as the building went up by day, just as fast it was destroyed by night. We know the Tarn very well because we row there in the Royal Canoe and the particular spot Enimie had chosen for her monastery nests in a tight curve of the river, where it narrows into fast rapids difficult to negotiate in a canoe, Royal or otherwise, we would say a feat quite impossible to do if we had a tail.

We decided it was our royal duty to set out to liberate the misunderstood Drac, the old Celtic water spirit. On September 12^th, 2002, the final stage of the campaign started. We visited the Pas du Souci and recited an ancient incantation passed down from Merlin to certain members of our Royal family, just to loosen the stone that trapped the Dragon. That evening, also chanting the incantation, we entered the Tarn at La Malene and collected some water in a bottle, which was subsequently placed, open, on a table by the window of the Royal chamber at the Manor of Montesquiu, where we were staying. During the night there broke up a mighty storm, with much lighting and thunder, as Drac condensed itself into an invisible mass and entered the bottle. Dragons can turn themselves very small or expand to fill the sky, the universe, your mind.

In the morning, with the bottled Dragon safely secreted in the Royal luggage, we left to return home. In the way we stopped at the village of St Enimie to visit the church and announce to the Saint that we had bestowed on Drac the official status of refugee in our Queendom with the option of becoming a naturalised artsnailian to which she did not take kindly and caused our Royal person to fall backwards down the steps of the altar. The Royal backside remained purple and blue for quite a while...

Back in our Realm of Artsnalia in a beautiful ceremony in the rain conducted by our High Priestess, Drac was established in the frog pond to which he took like a dragon to water, and he lives there now, happily ever after, as they say. Frogs, foxes, snails, hedgehogs and all our faithful subjects have accepted him without reservations.

Martha Aitchison, June 2003. 

Relaxing with friends in the outback of Artsnalia

DRAGON IN A BOTTLE
(our hope lies in the inner core of the sun)

to Martha & Mariko

I go MAD!
Viewing the reliability of the mountain ridge
tears start falling from the moon
making a bridge to my eyes seeing
the frozen dragon in the landscape.

Dragon, dragon lost, dragon loose,
let me caress the mourning-band of your dorsal mornings,
let me count the rings of trees and swallow rocks to modulate my voice,
let me talk to little owl fooling men it only rains
because the roof is leaking.
The truth of course according to the sun
is that there is
NO ROOF.

Dragons have a tendency to blend in
with home gardens, Buddha's belly burped.
Follow the example: reduce your size
so much it becomes that small it becomes
invisible so invulnerable.

Do we really need more protection?
It's not what we need, it's what they need!
Don't try to be Apollo, be like the planets
for once in your life.

How?
Learn from the foxes in Martha's garden.
They will lead you to the open place
where we all can drink Kanaloa's water.
Sure, this could kill us
but sometimes you have to die to be reborn.

Mariko nodded & poured Kane's water in a bottle,
threw the cap towards Selene,  

waiting for the waves to wash the war dance out.
Silence told her that the tiny dragon had entered the bottle by dawn.
She picked it up, felt the heath & tossed it to the sky as lucky coin.

The bottle capsule was growing wings & making music from escaping air.
The levitation did not imitate Icarus.
The slow approach only intended to melt the glass cell.
Freed again laughter exploded
till it chased the atoms in the cover of the stones
supplying sleep inside the circles of the grass.

Daily rituals:
Listen to the songs of stones born from dragon's breath.
Walk with stones in your pockets.
Introduce them to the aliens.
Wear stones around your neck.
Throw one in a pond to save the witches.
They float so one witch will be able to save you all.

The edge now has become so near
we need to clear the earth from fire's
absence.

(Oh yes, our hope lies in the inner core of the sun)

Guido Vermeulen, May 2003.