FESTIVAL TARP

INTERDISCIPLINARY FESTIVAL “TARP”

 

TARP (en. “In-Between”) was an international festival of audiovisual and experimental poetry combining interdisciplinary arts with poetry as we know it. It was thriving from 2006 to 2015. Back in 2006 it was just an underground event, which expanded and became familiar to Lithuanian and foreign audiences. It took place at the most unconventional sites in various Lithuanian cities. Until now in Lithuanian cultural scene there are no festivals equal to this one.

 


 
Firstly, it appeared to Gabrielė Labanauskaitė as an idea, following the magic formula of audiovisual poetry: poetry + video + audio. This festival had grown and improved with the help of great Lithuanian artists: Vladas Dieninis, Žygimantas Kudirka, Darius Jurevičius, Aistė Jūrė, Gerda Jo, Jurga Tumasonytė, Edvinas Grin, Milda Januševičiūtė, Tadas Karpavičius, Dovilė Butnoriūtė, Rūta Mur, Austėja Tavoraitė, Vaidas Vai, Vaidotas Ambrozaitis, Benas Šarka, Eglė Sirvydytė, Agnė Jokše and others. Always fueled by the voluntary principles festival TARP was oriented to the search of authentic poetic forms, their expression and the representation in Lithuania of innovative foreign artists, creating in the fields of poetry, music, performance and visual arts.
 


 

OBJECTIVES:

      • to create, establish and popularize the tradition of audiovisual poetry in Lithuania;
      • to introduce arts & poetry enthusiasts with the concept of audiovisual poetry;
      • to raise the interest in poetry through non-traditional art forms and their interfusions;
      • to encourage the cooperation between artists of different fields.

 

KEY ELEMENTS OF THE PROGRAMME:

      • exhibitions of visual poetry (in a form of photograph, graphics, painting and etc.)
      • poem screening contest & review of submitted poems;
      • live performances of local and international audio + visual + poetry collectives (performances, happenings, concerts, poetical & musical improvisations; poetry slams and poetry jams);
      • Educational part (lectures, seminars, workshops).

 

📺 Watch more alternative videos fromTARP festival

More information about TARP festivalwww.tarpfest.en

Awakening

AWAKENING

 

They said: walk with a spring in your step – girls walk lightly with a smile,
They said: no one dresses like that – this skirt is too short,
They said: no one dresses like that – this skirt is too long,
They said: sky-blue panty hose only fit with sky-blue clothes, red – with red,
Home Control assiduously inspected even the color’s shades.
 

They said: stop eating, you’ll be like a cow

[I often gazed at cows. Conclusion:
no similarity. Cows are very pretty.]

 

They said: eat, otherwise you won’t be able to have children – you master of the fast.
They said: but if you want children, you can have them without men, children don’t
need men

[Nor men – children, was my conclusion,
according to this logic. QED.]

 

They said: live how you want, you know what you’re doing – everything was said
with love,
Playing handball – a boy’s game,
Hockey – a boy’s game,
Swimming – a game without gender, but revealing it.
 

After that, they said: girl’s don’t fight – when I kicked a classmate in the nose
Who decided to cop a feel of my burgeoning breasts,
They said: I wouldn’t want such a daughter, so help me God –
When they found a bag of peas in my backpack, though I battled with the boys
Who would have been, we should understand, fitting sons;
They told my mom: she’ll grow up a lesbian, look what she does with those girls
In that room, pretending to play doctor;
They said: everything outside the norms is a perversion,
They said: even the neighbor fixed herself, from a tomboy to a taxi driver, in
Amsterdam,
They said: don’t talk to the other neighbor who is always trying
To fly like a bird from her balcony, and one time she succeeded,
 

They said: you goat, you can’t drive, and then they said: for a girl, you drive well;
They said: do what you know best, though they didn’t think I knew anything.
They said: “NO” so many times for so long and so persistently
That I became the girl in the tower of glass, lulled by rosy illusions,
An obedient, deafened girl, layed out in the coffin of the beauty myth.
But one day, I woke up – kissed by feminism’s frog.
I woke up and said: you can all just fuck off!
 

Translation by Rimas Uzgiris of a poem „Pabudimas“ by Gabrielė Labanauskaitė

War

WAR

 

They set other lives aflame with candles
And the smoke of unspeakable sweetness
Drifts across the floor, trampled by military boots
 

O inspire me with southern
Harshness
So I won’t have to sigh at a nearby table
Inhaling 103 cigarillos

 

It’s raining again today
Another war is declared.
A tear drops
Into an ashtray.

We Have Never Always

WE HAVE NEVER ALWAYS

 

We have never sailed on the lake, river or floated on top of the Dead sea.
We have never been at a concert, cinema or exhibition together.
We have never said to each other: look, this is a genius picture!
We have never climbed on the top of the roof or mountain.
We have never gone around the world in the same boat.
We have never given flowers to each other or presents.
We have never felt how it’s to move on the same dance floor.
We have never licked melting ice cream together.
We have never asked much about the roots of each other.
We have never combed each other’s hair, gently and slowly.
We have never felt Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday together.
We have never worked together, fighting with passion.
We have never been skating, skiing, running, long walking together.
We have never got lost in the forest or in the parking lot under a shopping mall.
We have never gone hunting, shooting, fishing or picking up berries.
We have never made food, coffee or tea or some other disaster.
We have never played cards or lost our last money at the casino.
We have never smoked weed, gone high with all other good or bad stuff.
We have never got dizzy, drunk or lost in the labyrinths of consciousness.
We have never called each other by phone.
 

We don’t even have each others’ telephone number.
 

So why do I feel knowing you so well?
Why do we feel knowing each other more than
thousands of years?
 

We have dived in each others’ bodies, sunbathing in each others’ heat.
We have been drawing inner maps, routes and movements.
We have seen so many pictures of moons and red sunsets.
We have climbed into each other, slipping down and starting again.
We have built a world within a world, it’s spinning in us and around us.
We have painted blue flowers on each others’ bodies.
We danced on the red bed sheet as bull and toreador changing our roles,
Dying, resurrecting, fainting again and again.
We have melted into each others’ palms, becoming teenagers.
We have common roots, past lives and some secret knowledge.
We have stroked each others’ hair with finger combs and shower brush.
We have felt Monday, Friday, Saturday and two Sundays together.
We inspired each other, weaving the carpets of words, everyday longer and bigger.
We went into the curious, spoiled, ambitious, creative, iching territories.
We got lost in each others’ forests and none of us wanted to be found.
We have gone smiling, laughing, kissing, touching and picking up pleasure berries.
We drank water, milkshakes, prosecco and some other bubbles of happiness.
We played distances and proximities, opening cards to each other
and hiding again.
We smoked each others’ lungs, went high by elevators under the ribs.
We got intoxicated and lost in the labyrinths of unconsciousness.
We know each other’s name. We know it by heart. We know, how to write it, to spell
it, to hear it, to swallow it.
It’s tattooed on each other’s skin.
It’s called: my insomnia.

We Swim Through Hair

WE SWIM THROUGH HAIR

 

We swim through hair,
In its whirlpools
We exchange formulae
 

We swim through hair
In its whirlpools
The drains are clogged
 

We swim through hair
In its whirlpools
Mouths full of drowned men
 

We swim through hair
In its whirlpools
The bottom sinks toward us
We do not notice

30 me in 15 you

WHATEVER I DO, I THINK IT’S YOU/
30 ME IN 15 YOU

 

I went to the party and heard some nice music, I thought it was you

I opened a notebook to write a poem and I thought it was you

I saw a slice of orange in the dark blue sky and I thought it was you

I met a lonely cat on my way home and I thought it was you

I swang up and down before going to sleep and I thought it was you

I smelt black orchidea around my neck and I thought it was you

I washed my face with a cold water and I thought it was you

I went to bed leaving a candle next to my head and I thought it was you

I heard somebody’s steps approaching me and I thought it was you

Somebody undressed me and layed next to me and I thought it was you

Somebody kissed my sternum and breasts and I thought it was you

Somebody touched my hip-bone with a big hunger and I thought it was you

Somebody came into me and got lost and I thought it was you

Somebody grew inside me, painful and pleasant and I thought it was you
 

I wrote you a message: Whatever I do, I always think that it’s you.
You answered me: It wasn’t me. So, it wasn’t you.

The Real Mafia

THE REAL MAFIA

 

The real mafia meets in

churches-

as the organ plays

they kiss-

fingers ringed with gold

 

Real killers like

cats,

soft furs
 

and a tear of blood
 
streaming down

a sleeve.

 

[The realest ones
don’t like reality].

No Wolves

NO WOLVES

 

The wolves are the wolves are the wolves and a rose.
The rose is the rose is the rose and a fire.
The fire is the fire is the fire and a body.
The body is the body is the body and a shame.
The shame is the shame is the shame and a house.
The house is the house is the house and an end.
The end is the end is the end and a choice.
 

The choice is the choice is the choice and a female.
The female is the female is the female and the drums.
The drums are the drums are the drums and a wolf.
The wolf is the wolf is the wolf and a vulva.
The vulva is the vulva is the vulva and a poetess.
The poetess is a poetess is a poetess is a poetess and has no gender.
 

No gender is no gender is no gender and no body.
No body is no body is no body and no shame.
No shame is no shame and no shame and no drums.
No drums are no drums are no drums and no fire.
No fire is no fire is no fire and no rose.
 

No rose is no poetry.
No poetry is no wolf.
No wolf is no end.
No end is no.

In the Mayan Calendar

………………………………

IN THE MAYAN CALENDAR

 

As in the Mayan calendar, the years gone by
Add up to zero
Signifying nothing more than an empty shell.
Our existence
Is equally insignificant
Or the same fulfillment –
Depends on how you look at it.
 

………………………………

I Am Electrified

I AM ELECTRIFIED

 

I am electrified –

All of the earth’s volts

Penetrate me

Wrap around my neck,

Dot my back

With radiant stitches.
 

I am electrified –

With neon lights

The sparkle of skyscrapers

Airplanes twinkling

The flutter

From your computer.
 

I am electrified –

In microschemes I count

Sunsets and sunrises,

Which occur all at once

When the mechanized watches have stopped –

I am electrified.