code calligraphy, several practicing booklets, 2011

There was no access to water. The faucet had rusted away. Our tenants in Mecklenburg Western Pommerania complained about having to carry the water for their vegetables in watering cans from the pond on their bikes. They said: "In former times we had enough water but no coffee, and now we have enough coffee, but can't afford the water anymore."

We tried to open a source, we tried to find water in our allotment gardens that would rejuvenate the spirits. “A fountain of youth!” we said. All they needed to rejuvenate was a shovel and a hole six feet deep, our tenants replied.

We brought metal coat-hangers from the United States of America and bent them into divining rods, we took a class in dowsing, we went to the rural town of Montello in Nevada and practiced divining with people who had studied "Remote Viewing" with the US military, we invited a group of  East German Western line dancers to perform a  dance in the allotment gardens in Mecklenburg Western Pommerania. We tried to figure out how this could work as a rain-dance. We thought the soil in the allotment garden was the hardware and the water was the software, and that software needed an upgrade. We recorded the line dance and broke it down into individual steps. "OS," we said. Operating system. Open source. We wrote long lists, tried to see if those could work as a computer script to run a program. We were living in Taipei at the time. We went to a store and bought ten exercise books and a brush that was already filled with ink. We listened to the audio recording of "Walden" by Henry David Thoreau when we transcribed the dances. We tried to write the computer script after the performance had already happened. It didn’t matter. The story will be rewritten anyways.