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Slameurs – and one slameuse – on the web

Every night there are several soirées slams taking place. The scene has completely exploded since I started following it 8 months ago, and certainly since I had my first peek into it at a quite shabby bar in Rue de Bagnolet more than a year ago. The slam is still going on in shabby bars, but it’s also found its way big time onto the Internet.

Télérama, a French version of the British Time Out has put 6 nice videos on their site, here. I would particularly recommend Sandra and Le Slam (with the duo performing AC! En nos âmes et consciences which I wrote about here).

The bar Divan du Monde up in Montmartre (the cradle of Parisian slam) is having great slam soirées once a month hosted by Caroline Carl, and they put all the performances on internet: see here.

Last week-end there was some kind of hip-hop award going on, where slam was a category (which I’ve not heard anyone talk about). I’ll add the link here, because it includes one of my personal favourites Souleymane Diamanka. (The others are also worth checking out. Abd Al Malik represents a strange phenomenon, by the way. I think he’s great, but strangely the term slam were not connected to his name before it became an advertismenent asset…. Read an interview with him in Danish(!) here –thanks Monica, for the link :) ).

The reason why Souleymane is my favourite can be found on his site on myspace here: Le poète se cache… It’s sooo beautiful.

UPDATE ON SOULEYMANE DIAMANKA: All the lyrics from Souleymane Diamanka’s forthcoming album L’Hiver Peul (out the 10th of April), can be found here, together with an extensive biography, touring dates, extracts of the songs etc. The biography contains some information of the oratory arts amongst the people Peul in Senegal transmitted to the French suburbs obviously representing such a goldmine for an anthropologist that it’ll surely result in a new post soon. (It also appears that Souleymane participated in the inauguration of the controversial (ethnographic) arts museum Quai Branly (site in English!)…).

The 10th of April is also the release date for the anthology of poems written together with John Bansaï, J’écris en français dans une langue étrangère (“I write in French in a foreign language”).

Every night there are several soirées slams taking place. The scene has completely exploded since I started following it 8 months ago, and certainly since I had my first peek into it at a quite shabby bar in Rue de…

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Sunny Sunday – cycling and les techniques du corps


Cycling in the banlieues, neuf-trois (93)

Many months ago, I mentioned that I wanted to write about cycling in Paris versus Oslo, from the perspective of Marcel Mauss’ techniques du corps (available for download in French here). I’m reminded of this old classic each time I go from my Norwegian bike to my French one. Most bikes in Norway have an extra angle on the handle, putting it more in front, thus making the cyclist lean more forward. In Paris, the cyclists sit with their back straight. The majority of bikes in Oslo are some kind of – rather fancy – sport bikes. In Parisian streets, the sport bikes are rare, and you see men and women cycle on anything on two wheels – men on what usually is considered a woman’s bike are for instance not unusual. (And sure, after having my foldable, and expensive indeed, bike stolen after just a couple of months, the last thing I want is a new fancy looking one. What I’ve got now is a cheap retro looking inconspicuous one, – which a friend immediately condemned as bourgeoisie-looking. My only justification was that it was the cheapest I could find.)
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In addition to leaning forward on their seat, many Norwegian cyclists use a helmet. Surveys show that cyclists with helmets are more likely to suffer serious injuries, – obviously because they cycle faster. And of course the cyclists in Oslo – forward leaning and with sport bikes – cycle far faster than their Parisian counterparts. Here’s of course the connection to les techniques du corps, where Mauss in 1934 described how what we think are “natural” ways of moving the body, are highly social (physiological + social + individual (or psychological), I think he writes.

I often think of cycling in Paris as a flâneur-like activity, -as the bike itself and the way ones sits, in addition to some general mood, perhaps, don’t encourage one to cycle very fast. The pedestrians also are generally strolling around rather than hurrying. And if someone hurries past you, you very often hear a pardon – yesterday the person in hurry even bothered to turn around to excuse himself to me face to face.

If cycling in Paris has a character of flânerie, in London it’s closer to extreme sport. In Oslo I’ve until now thought of it as simple transportation, but after having read Dag Østerberg’s socio-material analysis of Oslo I realise that our way of everyday city cycling can be read as a an example of our “naturalness”. On my bicycle trip along the canal far into the suburbs today, I noticed that many Parisian cyclists put on helmets and sports gear and get their sport bikes out the cellar in order to go out of the city, as a Sunday activity. In Norway, fast cycling with helmets takes place inside the city. Østerberg writes about the Norwegian bourgeoisie (my translation):

The distinguished naturalness is a characteristic of the women and men of the Norwegian bourgeoisie: They engaged in sport and open-air activities to a far more than the rest of the European bourgeoisie. No other bourgeoisie lives in a forest (Østerberg 1993: 48-9). (For those who are interested, an additional explanation follows in an extended quote at the bottom of this post).

This “naturalness”, in perhaps less “distinguished” versions, permeates the Norwegian society. I wonder if it’s that which makes street life in Norway less communicative, less filled with meaning/significance, thus not social situations, while here in contrast, such small situations are “cultivated” into a little grain of social interaction. One example is the man saying sorry for just walking quickly past me in the street. “How many doors have you got in the face today,” is a standing joke at the Centre Culturel Français in Oslo, as many Norwegians ignore if someone is coming behind them through the door. It’s a lack of politeness, of course, but it’s also a lack of acknowledging that you are interacting with others in a social environment. The notion of living together “vivre ensemble” is everywhere here in Paris; from a core value at school to municipal politics.

I notice that I’m deviating a little from my sunny Sunday bike trip now, and I’ll end this post with one more comment on socio-materiality. It’s so flat to cycle here that I didn’t realise where I was until I was far out in the in the banlieues in Seine-Saint-Denis. However, what I had noticed was that the highly varied east Parisian street art suddenly had turned to pure graffiti “pieces”, and at times even tags and simple scribbling were predominant.


Street art and graffiti at Canal Saint Martin (75010)


Graffit artists at work in Seine-Saint-Denis

More photos from “neuf-trois” here

When I got back to Paris, I passed Place de la République, and guess what? There were police as well as demonstrators present. (This time it was an anti-abortion demonstration).

The nature impression of Oslo is strengthened by the fact that parts of the economic, political and cultural ruling strata live in the hills, among trees and forest. These strata legitimise themselves party through “nature” and naturalness, in contrast to what is the case in many other countries. The bourgeoisie legitimised themselves from the 18th Century by appealing to “nature”, that we are born equal etc. The powder perukes and the rest of the baroque and the rococo were seen as unnatural, and were consequently left behind. However, around 1850 this changed. The bourgeoisie discovered that nature was and “vulgar”, because one found it among the farmers and the threatening labour movement. From now on, the bourgeoisie legitimated themselves with cultivatedness, with manners in contrast to raw nature. The bourgeoisie of Oslo and the leading stratum, on the other hand, still legitimises itself partly with nature, houses with a forest, Tyrol-looking houses, cabins in the mountain, long cross-country skiing trips. More precisely: It legitimises itself with distinguished naturalness, with carefully prepared natural look (my – quick, sorry – translation, Østerberg 1993: 114).

Cycling in the banlieues, neuf-trois (93)

Many months ago, I mentioned that I wanted to write about cycling in Paris versus Oslo, from the perspective of Marcel Mauss’ techniques du corps (available for download in French here). I’m reminded of this…

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Rue du Faubourg du Temple

I’m not yet tired of Parisian street-life. That’s good, because it’s only four floors separating my bedroom-cum-office from a very noisy, or let’s rather say lively, street indeed.

Rue du Faubourg du Temple, view from my window.

Rue du Faubourg du Temple runs, as I’ve already mentioned, between the significant places Place de la République – where an enormous bronze Marianne La République resides with the three strong marble ladies La Liberté, L’Égalité and La Fraternité – and Belleville. Most demonstrations of whatever size start at Place de la République. When I lived next to the square for a fortnight in December, I stumbled upon a substantial number of police cars right outside my gate every third day or so. One day it was no less than 16 vans from the CRS, another day just 10 or so from La Gendarmerie, and yet another it was the Police Nationale. Only at one of the occasions did I see the demonstrators. The same happened actually a couple of days ago. I had read at Paris.Indymedia that the college students and the sans-papiers would demonstrate against the immigrations policies, so I went over to see what was happening. Maybe I was too late, because at the time I arrived there was very few lycéens to see. On the other hand, the forces of order were heavily represented; the CRS with at least 15 vans, a bus and some other equipment were creating a noisy traffic jam driving south-east down Avenue de la République (direction Père Lachaise and perhaps Place de la Nation). The demonstrations of national importance usually go between Place de la République to Place de la Nation, via Bastille – thus it’s not only the police who can stage a political struggle symbolically (however, with their Robocop uniforms they’re hard to beat when it comes to costumes).
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A few demonstrations start other places than at République. According to my flatmate, there is one passing down Faubourg du Temple about every second week. Judging from the slogans he mimicked, it usually concerns les sans-papiers, which is reasonable since it’s coming from Belleville/the East and going to Place de la République. I actually joined one of these demonstrations (described here), just a few weeks after arriving in Paris the previous autumn. Funnily, I took a photo of the building I’m now living in, because of the nice flowerpots and the Chinese restaurant at the ground floor. And that makes the transition to the next point in this post.

The restaurant in this building seems almost to be an outpost for the higher concentration of Chinese restaurants and shops a little up the street in Belleville. Down here, Pakistani shops are at least as numerous. For some strange reason, many Pakistanis in Paris run these cheap, thrashy plastic utensil etc. shops (I have no idea what to call this genre of shops in English). I’ve seen them everywhere in East working-class Paris, and most of them seem to be Pakistani owned. One can probably find some neat Fredrik Barthian explanation for why the Pakistanis have ended up in this particular ethnic niche in this city. Neither in London, nor in Oslo is that the case. Interestingly, it was in neither British hip-hop nor Norwegian, but French, that I was to hear the first sample of a Bollywood song (Rohff (Rohff on last.fm here): Bollywood style.)

The highest presence of Pakistanis is at the other side of Place de la République, in the direction of Gare de Nord. While I’ve just seen one not very conspicuous Bollywood video sale and rental around here, on the other side of République there are more, until you get some street which are almost exclusively Indian, Pakistani and Sri Lankan. (According to Le Monde à Paris – in the nicely titled guide series Paris est à nous (“Paris is ours”) – from 2004, there are 50 000 from the subcontinent in Paris. – One guesses that there is equally many Chinese clandestines here, in addition to the 450 000 who are registrered).

As usual when I start writing a post, I quickly lose focus of the initial idea and the post end up wandering about. I had no intention at all to write about the police again, for instance. This blog post was in fact inspired by a quick walk up the road and the no less than overwhelming amount of impressions it inspired – including the initial thought that opened this post; the Paris street life never stops intriguing me…. I’ve discussed the bad winter mood of the Parisians with a couple of people lately. – They rarely smile, many are arrogant or aloof and the level of aggression and nervousness is high. (For instance, often when I approach a young woman on the street to ask for a direction, she first looks visibly anxious before she notices that I’m just another young woman). – When a friend of mine explained this mood by referring to sheer dense materiality of this city – “packed as sardines on the metro, the person next to you just wished you weren’t there” – it echoed Dag Østerberg’s “socio-material interpretation of Oslo”, which I’d just been reading. Paris is far denser than Oslo, and people behave very differently on the street here. Whether it comes down to a material explanation, I don’t know. It can also have something to do with sexism and different gender relations, with revolutions and education for revolts, with a continuous construction of “living together” through talking to each other (a bit à la Cicero’s republic perhaps) etc… all of which I’ve touched upon here before and which I’ll undoubtedly return to. However not now, as this post has become long enough.

I’m not yet tired of Parisian street-life. That’s good, because it’s only four floors separating my bedroom-cum-office from a very noisy, or let’s rather say lively, street indeed.

Rue du Faubourg du Temple, view from my window.

Rue du Faubourg du…

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Intermezzo


Parisian street art – an example of appropriation of space

This blog has been rather quiet for a long time now. Despite a steady increase of half finished, and half started, posts, they’ve not yet found their way to the web. My lack of inspiration for blog writing has perhaps been due to the intermezzo-like character of the autumn. I’ve for the most part stayed in Oslo, trying to reintegrate into the office environment at the university after having been autonomous fieldworker for almost two semesters. In terms of writing and reading, and even thinking, the reintegration has not been very fruitful. One of the few things I’ve got around to do, was to present my research so far at a handful of occasions. Writing and getting feedback on these presentations (they don’t deserve the term “paper”), I’ve come up with a few themes to focus my attention around. As this intermezzo is coming to an end and I’ll get on with phase two of my fieldwork, this is a suitable occasion for a little summary.
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I’m suggesting that the French slam poetry scene is creating a site, or space, for popular resistance and cosmopolitan co-existence. When I once briefly mentioned to a colleague that I focused on resistance, she asked “resistance to what?” “The state,” I replied, looking a bit surprised, thinking by myself: what else to resist. However, it’s of course more complicated than that, and I’ll have to be far more specific and concrete in my description. It’s not simply “the state”, and the slam poetry is about far more than just resistance. Moreover, of course, as good anthropology, I’ll now have to show, i.e. evocatively describe, how such a space – for popular resistance and cosmopolitan co-existence – is created. Here I’ll have to look into the performances themselves, within the context of the slam soirée. I’ve started thinking about what makes some recitals good and others not. It’s something about the force of the performance, it’s “trueness” or “authenticity”… Don’t ask me yet what I mean by this.

That the slam scene is cosmopolitan was one of the determining factors when I chose to focus my research on it, as cosmopolitanism was what I came to Paris to study in the first place. Initially, I found Paris (and France) to be undeniably postcolonial, but surprisingly segregated and surprisingly little cosmopolitan. The broader socio-political context, within which I’ll situate the slam scene, I’m thinking of analysing in terms of a postcolonial reappropriation of time as well as space:


Indication of the postcolonial reappropriation of French history…

It seems to me to be a postcolonial reappropriation of French history taking place at the moment. I also wonder if one can say that there is a postcolonial reappropriation of space taking place in areas like Eastern Paris. – Shops, ways of dressing and ways of using the public space, are just a few examples. The constant mobilisation for the sans-papiers, with demonstrations, posters, banners outside schools for instance…, is another. Street art and graffiti appear to me to be a visual equivalent to the slam poetry – both are concentrated in the popular east side of the city and both are taking art to the people where the people are. I’ve shot several hundred photos of street art just wandering around, but now I’m considering doing a more systematic research.


Postcolonial reappropriation of space in East Paris

So, the plan for the next months is to focus on slam poetry, urban landscape, popular resistance and perhaps a little bit of street art. (As an envious professor said to me when he heard that I was going to Paris for eight months to study slam poetry: “If [the leader of the far right party] knew what you’re doing with the tax payers money…”. (To be honest, it’s not the Norwegian taxpayers who’re paying this time as I’ve taken leave without pay from my Ph.D. post, but a scholarship from a charitable and art loving Frenchman by the name Georges Sautreau.)

Parisian street art - an example of appropriation of space

This blog has been rather quiet for a long time now. Despite a steady increase of half finished, and half started, posts, they’ve not yet found their way to the web.…

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Social geography – Place de la République

Under me, Europe spreads, slightly convexly, out. The cities look like illuminated versions of ancient town maps. It’s such a nice weather to fly in. I don’t feel like doing what I usually do on this 2 hours and 20 minutes flight between Paris and Oslo, (which is to go through the generous little pile of newspapers Air France is providing – Le Monde (centre-left, a bit intellectual), Le Figaro (right), Libération (left, 68-ish) and once in a while L’Humanité (communiste) or the economist paper L’Echo. There are always a number of issues very relevant to my thesis. Instead, I’ll flash around with my chic (loaned) white MacBook and get some writing done.
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This time in Paris, I tried living at Place de la République. It wasn’t extremely successful as I at least once a day found myself following the same trajectories eastwards or north. Purely geographically, Place de la République is situated in East Paris, but socio-geographically it constitutes an interesting border phenomenon. At the corner of the huge Hausmannian square I was unfortunate to live – westwards in the direction of Les Grandes Boulevardes with Gallerie Lafayette and the likes – there are loads of tourists and shoppers and quite fancy looking people. Just a little north of this, up Boulevard de Magenta in the direction of Gare de Nord, one passes one ethnic community after the other, particularly various South Asians and West Africans. I cycled up Major Delanoë’s nice new bicycle lane along the boulevard several times – to visit a friend in the 18th district just behind the shimmering white Sacre Coeure, and to attend a couple of events (slam poetry, of course and a discussion of art and migration with Edouard Glissant…) at the festival in relation to the international day of migrants in the strongly African Goutte d’Or neighbourhood. The direction I went even more often, however, was straight east, across the Canal where Amelie went to throw her little stones (in order to relax :-) ) and into Belleville. In January, I’ll be moving 10-15 minutes by foot from Place de la République, just in this direction! And I’m looking so much forward to it!

Of all the 6-7 places I’ve been living in Paris, there is none I’ve looked so much forward to move to as this flat in Rue du Faubourg du Temple (faubourg means in fact inner suburb, and when a street is called faubourg something it means that it’s sort of the suburb of the street with the same name – thus there exists a Rue du Temple). Rue du Faubourg du Temple goes from Place de la République, a space even more significantly on the border than I’ve described until now, and Place de Belleville. Place de Belleville is a symbol of immigrant Paris, of course, with Jews and Muslims and East Asians (and the anarchic regionally migrated artisans during the Paris Commune…).

(For some reason, it’s such a convivial atmosphere on this Air France flight. The purser and captain are once in a while proclaiming that they’re so sorry for the delay, and the crew comes around checking if we’ve got enough water of French wine, and now the shaven headed North African French steward is doing magic tricks for the little girl sitting on my row – which she afterwards retells to her father, who has been sleeping. I prefer Air France so much to the other companies flying to Paris. – He’s really an entertainer; now he makes a little Christmas bonhomme stand up in his hand, to the enjoyment of more passengers than the little girl –. Not just because of all their newspapers, French wine and the fact that they’re the only company flying to terminal 2 (making the arrival at Charles de Gaulle very much easier). I think perhaps I like flying Air France because the continental experience lasts longer. When you enter an SAS plane you’re already home, sort of.)

Well, east-west Rue du Faubourg du Temple runs between mainstream republican Paris (Place de la République) and the epitome of Belleville. South-north it separates sort of a classical Parisian neighbourhoodesque (according to my soon-to-be flatmate) area, where, as I mentioned, Amelie Poulain trew the small stones in the canal to calm down, and a more “ethnic Paris” (again according to this flatmate).

– Wops, there Oslo is coming up, small and brightly shining… I see the stadium Valle Hovin very brightly lit, so my home shouldn’t be so far from that. I hear the good-humoured stewards practice some Norwegian (“Garrrderrrmoen”… “tusen takk…”), and talk about laisser les gens detendre…. – When they pronounce the “thank you very much” in Norwegian, some people start clapping so obviously they don’t mind the little delay and is relaxing all right…). Now, I should wrap up this post, before we land. I hear the girl retells what the great magician did to some of the friends of the family.

Under me, Europe spreads, slightly convexly, out. The cities look like illuminated versions of ancient town maps. It’s such a nice weather to fly in. I don’t feel like doing what I usually do on this 2 hours and 20…

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