Ship
of Fools COOPERATIONS Luxembourg 1998
The Jardin de Wiltz residency and collaborative installation project
was funded by Arts Queensland, COOPERATIONS Luxembourg and assisted
by Access Arts. The
Jardin de Wiltz residency and collaborative installation project
at COOPERATIONS
Luxembourg was
undertaken in May 1998.
The Project was run as a workshop. A wide range of people
from all over Europe participated. Artists, european youth volunteers,
people with a range of abilities. It was in a real sense,
the manifestation of a dynamic process.
That process was oriented towards empowering each member of the
group to participate to their maximum potential, by developing and
communicating respect for each other and their differences, which
was the trajectory, the point of the project.
The Ship of Fools was initially installed in Jardin de Wiltz but
was then on request from the Beaufort Castle Arts Expo organisers
was installed in a meadow below Beaufort Castle in Northern Luxembourg.
Images courtesy of Marc Roulling.
COOPERATIONS Luxembourg
Ship
of Fools Collaborative Installation some Historical references
Dear Marc I makes me laugh out loud to imagine our collective Ship
of Fools finally at anchor in your land locked country, below
Beaufort Castle in the meadow amidst wandering sheep .
This is as far as I have got for your references to the Historical
Ship of Fools.
These quotes are different references than those that I gave
you originally about the practice of the "insane" and dispossesed
running between towns in dry boats.
I think that these below are equally fascinating:
Introduction to Michel Foucault's Madness and Civilization by Jose
Barchilon
Renaissance
men developed a delightful, yet horrible way of dealing with their
mad denizens: they were put on a ship and entrusted to mariners because
folly, water, and sea, as everyone then "knew," had an affinity for
each other. Thus, "Ships of Fools" crisscrossed the seas and canals
of Europe with their comic and pathetic cargo of souls. Some of them
found pleasure and even a cure in the changing surroundings, in the
isolation of being cast off, while others withdrew further, became
worse, or died alone and away from their families. The cities and
villages which had thus rid themselves of their crazed and crazy,
could now take pleasure in watching the exciting sideshow when a ship
full of foreign lunatics would dock at their harbors.
"Stultifera Nayis" Madness and Civilization. Michel Foucault
Something new appears in the imaginary landscape of the Renaissance;
soon it will occupy a privileged place there: the Ship of Fools, a
strange "drunken boat" that glides along the calm rivers of the Rhineland
and the Flemish canals.
The Narrenschiff, of course, is a literary composition, probably borrowed
from the old Argonaut cycle, one of the great mythic themes recently
revived and rejuvenated, acquiring an institutional aspect in the
Burgundy Estates. Fashion favored the composition of these Ships,
whose crew of imaginary heroes, ethical models, or social types embarked
on a great symbolic voyage which would bring them, if not fortune,
then at least the figure of their destiny or their truth. Thus Symphorien
Champier composes a Ship of Princes and Battles of Nobility in 1502,
then a Ship of Virtuous Ladies in 1503; there is also a Ship of Health,
alongside the Blauwe Schute of Jacob van Oestvoren in
I413, Sebastian Brant's Narrenschiff (1494), and the work of Josse
Bade:Stultiferae naviculae scaphae fatuarum mulierum (1498). Bosch's
painting, of course, belongs to this dream fleet.
But
of all these romantic or satiric vessels, the Narrenschiff is the
only one that had a real existence-for they did exist, these boats
that conveyed their insane cargo from town to town. Madmen then led
an easy wandering existence. The towns drove them outside their limits;
they were allowed to wander in the open countryside, when not entrusted
to a group of merchants and pilgrims. The custom was especially frequent
in Germany; in Nuremberg, in the first half of the fifteenth century,
the presence of 63 madmen had been registered; 31 were driven away;
in the fifty years that followed, there are records of 2I more obligatory
departures; and these are only the madmen arrested by the municipal
authorities. Frequently they were handed over to boatmen: in Frankfort,
in 1399, seamen were instructed to rid the city of a madman who walked
about the streets naked; in the first years of the fifteenth century,
a criminal madman was expelled in the same manner from Mainz. Sometimes
the sailors disembarked these bothersome passengers sooner than they
had promised; witness a blacksmith of Frankfort twice expelled and
twice returning before being taken to Kreuznach for good.
Often
the cities of Europe must have seen these "ships of fools" approaching
their harbors.
It is not easy to discover the exact meaning of this custom.
It
is possible that these ships of fools, which haunted the imagination
of the entire early Renaissance, were pilgrimage boats, highly symbolic
cargoes of madmen in search of their reason: some went down the Rhineland
rivers toward Belgium and Gheel; others sailed up the Rhine toward
the Jura and Besancon.
Thus
we better understand the curious implication assigned to the navigation
of madmen and the prestige attending it. On the one hand, we must
not minimize its incontestable practical effectiveness: to hand a
madman over to sailors was to be permanenty sure he would not be prowling
beneath the city walls; it made sure that he would go far away; it
made him a prisoner of his own departure. But water adds to this the
dark mass of its own values; it carries off, but it does more: it
purifies. Navigation delivers man to the uncertainty of fate; on water,
each of us is in the hands of his own destiny; every embarkation is,
potentially, the last. It is for the other world that the madman sets
sail in his fools' boat; it is from the other world that he comes
when he disembarks.
The madman's voyage is at once a rigorous division and an absolute
Passage. In one sense, it simply develops, across a half-real, half-imaginary
geography, the madman's liminal position on the horizon of medieval
concern-a position symbolized and made real at the same time
..his
exclusion must enclose him; if he cannot and must not have another
prison than the threshold itself, he is kept at the point of passage.
He is put in the interior of the exterior, and inversely. A highly
symbolic position, which will doubtless remain his until our own day,
if we are willing to admit that what was formerly a visible fortress
of order has now become the castle of our conscience. (no mixed metaphors
here it is just that I left out a substantial part of the text on
the shift from ships of incarceration to prisons and asylums)
Water
and navigation certainly play this role. Confined on the ship, from
which there is no escape, the madman is delivered to the river with
its thousand arms, the sea with its thousand roads, to that great
uncertainty external to everything. He is a prisoner in the midst
of what is the freest, the openest of routes: bound fast at the infinite
crossroads. He is the Passenger par excellence: that is, the prisoner
of the passage. And the land he will come to is unknown-as is, once
he disembarks, the land from which he comes. He has his truth and
his homeland only in that fruitless expanse between two countries
that cannot belong to him. Is it this ritual and these values which
are at the origin of the long imaginary relationship that can be traced
through the whole of Western culture? Or is it, conversely, this relationship
that, from time immemorial, has called into being and established
the rite of embarkation? One thing at least is certain: water and
madness have long been linked in the dreams of European man.
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