1 October 2016 – 31 July 2017 (withdrew as of May 1, 2017)
A Canadian film-maker Rob Santaguida’s videos ”Miraslava” and ”Goran” have screened in over 200 international festivals, including CPH: DOX, Denmark; Videobrasil, Brazil; Kassel Documentary Film and Video Festival, Germany; and Transmediale, Germany. Rob has served as the artist-in-residence at museums and artist-run centres in the United States, Croatia, Romania, Germany, Norway, Greece, Serbia, and Australia. Rob is the recipient of the K.M. Hunter Artist Award and a fellowship from the Akademie Schloss Solitude in Germany.
On-hiatus Proposal Summary
Rob has been meaning to go on hiatus for several years now, but every year, a new event or project emerges, and he finds himself making work while missing the original impulse that moved him in the past. Later this year he will finally go on hiatus, with the hopes of replacing cynicism with youthful vigour, and finding new motivation for when he returns to his practice in the future.
During his hiatus, he will travel to Istanbul and live in the neighborhood of Balat. He will focus on simple activities, like reading, walking and conversation. He will learn Italian and maybe try out the saxotromba.
"You said it was time for a grand conclusion. When we pick our seats on the train you always find it strange that I don't mind facing backwards. Time spent regretting is wasted time, you say. Who cares about an exchange from twenty years ago when you reacted to your environment like a sand dollar? If I hadn't wasted these hours with my regret I probably would have wasted them in another way. This is time for a soft statement.
I mishear things sometimes. The music was too loud or you slurred your words, and I pretend to understand. I wonder how things would be different if I had apologized until it was clear what you meant. Only you know.
I have never been afraid of endings. Beginnings, on the other hand, terrify me. As I stand knee-deep in this prelude I now know nothing I do is important. The world doesn't need another one of my films. What the world needs is comfort.
It is too hot to sleep, so I sit up with the lights off, trying to stay quiet so not to wake anyone, listening the sound of the waves slapping against the rocks. A few small boats glide by, fishing with spotlights. Behind me my ancestral home, without a head the town spasms in the final moments before it dies. Streets are cut out instead of repaired. Long curls of white paint come off the welcome sign. The locals will think I am insane if I moved back here.
We bobbed on the sea aboard an old yacht. The captain and his daughter handed us drink after drink. I started feeling sick and lay on the deck. The boat bounced off the waves as we headed to the shore in the cool, black air. You covered me with a part of the sail, and it was cozy. I thought you would lean in and see how I was doing from time to time, but your thoughts were elsewhere. I nearly heard your laugh over the sound of the engine and the water. I stayed wrapped up well after I felt better.
I did nothing that I set out to do. I didn't think I would. I was alone more than I expected. Enjoyed it more than I thought I could. I traveled to cold places during the winter and hot places in the summer while I tried to do the reverse. I didn't learn any new languages or how to play an instrument or even spend a day longer than I needed to in Istanbul. The bitter fights, which I hadn't proposed, were my currency. It was a good experience. But I wouldn't do it again. But it was good."
I knew this feeling would come at some point but not a few nights ago. It was a late one, and I was standing at an intersection, the Kaii Hotel behind me. I had just visited their casino. I didn’t go to gamble, just needed a distraction, and the lights and audible excitement and despair would have to do.
At the intersection, there were no cars in sight, but I waited. The little green man appeared, urged me forward. Reluctantly I crossed. A short time later, I decided I needed to end my break. This will be my final entry.
I’ve grown to enjoy this project quite a bit. I had a chance to meet Shinobu and Matt. It was hard not to like them. They nod in a way when they’re listening to you that kind people tend to do.
I will start a new film. Translate a book. Go camping. And try not to hope for anything.
I attend a wedding. I’m there as a favour to someone I hardly know. The ceremony is in Portuguese, but I still manage to shed tears on cue.
I prepare myself during the day for who I’m going to be that night. This rendition of myself makes a habit of doing things for all the wrong reasons, which, on occasion, out of sheer coincidence, happens to resemble noble acts. Without hesitation, he leaps up and takes credit. He would smirk at me from across the room. It’s the lowest form of out-of-body experience.
At the bar, I silently flip though the Rolodex of past regrets.
I’ve known early mornings when I would crawl along the living room floor, throw open the shutters, trying to catch a glimpse of the moment before it falls.