Free Speech on Wheels, Let Your Opinion Roll Bettina Camilla Vestergaard
Free Speech On Wheels, Let Your Opinion Roll Los Angeles 2006 Intervention in public space, writings on car, photos and video The following is an attempt to relay the
chain of events set in motion by this project. But first, a brief account of
how the idea arose: I had been awarded a stipend from the Swedish government
that enabled me to live and work in LA for 6 months. I had high expectations of
the city’s complex cultural diversity, so it was quite frustrating that my
first three months primarily consisted of passing time in quite residential
Hollywood, sitting alone in my car, shopping and getting fuel for yet another
round. I had a feeling of involuntarily being trapped in a fixed pattern that
repeated itself: like Bill Murray in Ground Hog Day my life had begun to
revolve around itself, slowly but surely reducing my mental activity to a
purposeless series of meaningless events. I conceived Free Speech on Wheels as
a means of short-circuiting this experience. The basic idea was to muddle the barrier between
public and private, by creating a space where the many and varied identities of
L.A.'s communities could be expressed. I began by parking my car where a large
group of people were wandering about and proceeded to put up a sign with the
following text: “Free Speech on Wheels – Let your opinion roll”. In order to
kickstart the process, I asked the first volunteers the question: “What does
being an American mean to you?” I felt it was a natural question given that the
largest demonstration in the history of Los Angeles, with nationality as the
issue, had just taken place. I received a lot of different responses depending
where I had parked. For example, there was intense writing activity during a
Downtown student demonstration and at Earth Day, while it was absolutely zero
at the Santa Monica Beach promenade. Then one evening something happened; I had
parked at the corner of Alvarado St. and Sunset Blvd. Quite a few people came
and wrote on the car, including two middle-aged women whose conservative attire
stood out in the crowd. I was busy speaking to other people while they wrote
and quickly disappeared. So it wasn’t until later, when a commotion arose that
I saw that they had written “FUCK THE POLICE!” in large bold letters on the
drivers’ side of the car. My next stop was the May 1st
demonstration, where I parked the car in the middle of Macarthur Park. Less
than five minutes had passed before people enthusiastically began writing.
Everybody was incredibly excited about the idea and the atmosphere was full of
seriousness, concentration and humor. FUCK THE POLICE had legitimized a liberty
where people could express themselves without reservation, and when I left the
park, the car was covered in text. In the period of time that followed, I
experienced how the car had taken on a life of its own, as it constantly
invoked reactions wherever I drove. In traffic jams, at gas stations, and
supermarkets, people offered comments and asked to write on or photograph the
car. There were often discussions of views regarding the many statements
written on the car, the project, immigration and more. I saw how my own role
had evolved from being the one reaching out to people for their input to
conveying these inputs to others. Likewise, my original idea of collecting voices
from many various areas had changed. With the addition of FUCK THE POLICE, the
car had developed into a place where it was permitted to express oneself
against power, and this attracted a specific group of people and excluded
others. I experienced driving the car into areas where it stood in stark
contrast to its surroundings, and the response in these areas was as if I were
invisible. Conversely, there were areas where I felt that the car’s attitude
functioned as a type of admission ticket that enabled dialog with places and
people that I would have previously felt excluded from as a white Danish woman.
The car became a transcending force, breaking social boundaries, and erasing
memories of my humdrum Hollywood existence, except for when a police officer
pulled up alongside me, at which point there was no doubt that my privileged
position in society acted as a protective shield.
Bio Bettina Camilla Vestergaard (b.
1975) is a visual artist who lives and works in Copenhagen, DK. In her work she
explores how collective identity and personal narrative engage one another
using a variety of mediums, including photography, video, sound, text, collage
and installation. She received her MFA from Malmoe Art Academy in Sweden in
(2005) and was a visiting scholar at Interdisciplinary Studio, UCLA (2004). Her
work has been presented at the MAK Center for Arts and Architecture in Los
Angeles, Dunk Gallery in Copenhagen, Rooseum Center for Contemporary Art in
Malmö Sweden, Stockholm Artfair, Pictura Gallery in Lund Sweden, Gallery
Sparwasser in Berlin, The Leisure Club Mogadishni in Copenhagen and the Art
Hall at Brandt’s Denmark. Her work has been supported by the Danish Arts
Council, The Arts Grants Committee Sweden, Toyota Foundation, L.F.Foghs
Foundation, Lund University, Ragnvald and Ida Blix’ Foundation, Knud Hoejgaard
Foundation, The Danish Ministry of Culture and the Cultural Council of Aarhus. Website: bettinacamillavestergaard.info |
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