Two years ago, a number of artists from collective FUCK and production company Finger.co.uk the roof of Kraaiennest shopping centre in Amsterdam Southeast, and stomped FATFORM out of the ground. An elusive art project, rooftop party and free state. Now they have moved up a hundred metres.
Sandwiched between the drab, modernist Bijlmer flats, megalomaniac high-rise and new buildings, the Djame Masdjied Taibah mosque, vacant shopping malls and Crow's Nest metro station houses the new incarnation of FATFORMnow on Klieverink garage, and the adjacent office building. Once the base of operations for the Salvation Army and Arise for Christ Jesus Ministries International. After two years, FATFORM has had to leave the pimped-up roof of the former shopping centre opposite. Fortunately, there is still some empty space, here and there, in booming Southeast. As in previous years, FATFORM will programme events and ongoing exhibitions during the summer months. A free state among the Bijlmer concrete, where ferocious conceptual visual art, shows featuring raw Bijlmer hip-hop, squeaky-crack Detroit techno and bawdy post-rock, large-scale installations and constructions, subversive debates, guerrilla gardening and Tae Kwon Do training sessions will flow together.
Curator Irene de Craen: "Here we form a small, independent island in a sea of concrete. FATFORM is fat enough to absorb all free radicals. I see it myself as a bit of a Temporary Autonomous Zone, completely in the spirit of Hakim Bey."
She gestures to rappers Ell-I-Dee and Mizztamizzo of Free Quincy, just finished their set, which along with the Raven Bros. and audio terrorist HAKKI TAKKI stand to headnod at the a-tonal noise of artist François Dey. Like the rest of the audience, partly sprawled out on fatboys and on beer. Using bricks, drumsticks and bare fists, Dey rammed on his immense harp of lap material.
De Craen: "You see here that there is not that much difference between a Sandberg student and a rapper. The energy is the same, and you feel that."
While DJ Boris Becker ready for its next set, the Scandinavian rock 'n rollers of The Trauma Clubwith their drum kit. Singer Jani Erickson:
"Don't you have a rug or something, otherwise the drummer will soon flicker off the roof. Where are the roadies when you need them? Good staff is SO hard to find."
At FATFORM, tout le monde gathers. From local rappers, artists, punks, hipsters, rastafaris, skaters, producers, unsuspecting local residents and expat artists to highbrow Rietveld art nerds with strict glasses. To socially drink beer and party together, make and view art, or debate the need for art (in the ghetto). De Craen: "FATFORM is really a clash of different worlds. Fuck it. Let it clash." Apart from the roof, which serves as a festival site and guerrilla garden, the organisers have also hijacked some free spaces inside for the exhibition The Island. Here, great work by the likes of Jabu Arnell, Kaleb de Groot, Chris Meighan, Klaas Kloosterboer and Susan Kooi. Cage is also part of the - already legendary - electropop duo Echo + Seashell, who performed at the inaugural festival with their smash hit Lonely Coconut. The Island can be visited until 14 July. Artist Jonas Ohlsson - aka Blodfet & DJ Lonely - who along with Daniela Bershan, Jeffrey Croese and Sara Mattens co-instigated the whole event, and co-curated exhibition The Island:
"The party aspect of FATFORM is hugely important. I have a lot of love for radical autonomous art, but far too often it remains an elite thing. Not everyone attracts all that art, but because FATFORM has the guise of a party, it's much more accessible than just another white canal-side gala."
The day after the opening, I speak to a broke Ohlsson, felled by a vicious hangover.
"We went downstairs at one point, where Lazy Jay and Baba Electronica played a few last numbers. Because we can do that now in the new premises, without police problems, because we are completely legal. Now we can do really big things."
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