My first week in Winterthur felt like a fever dream. I write this dispatch from Villa Sträuli, as part of my research residency, supported by Pro Helvetia and TAKE On Art, while I teeter between the desire to document and divulge. The following is a brief account of my recent adventures and experiences, as I try to find my footing in a foreign land far away from home.
Day 1 after landing at Kulturhaus Villa Sträuli in Winterthur
I ease into the soundscape around me that comprises birdsongs that sound friendly, yet unfamiliar. I listen to the raspy call of rook instead of the customary caws of crows back home. The bird identifier app finds marsh tits, finches, swifts and blackbirds in the place of mynas, koels, barbets and parakeets.
April is capricious, and in just a week, I see the Swiss weather in all its glory, from cloudy grey skies sprinkling drizzling rain to brilliant blue skies drenched in sunshine.
Every day starts with a mug of coffee and ends with a walk around Winterthur’s old town. As I meander through the cobblestoned streets, the sun feels hot, but the cold breeze sends shivers rolling all over me. I stop to admire walls covered in cascading purple wisteria, blooming daffodil trees and colourful flowerbeds full of tulips, daisies and dandelions. I sit near the water springs and watch people pass by, walking, cycling, skating, going to work or simply enjoying a day out. A little boy chases a pigeon with a stick, and I chuckle to myself, thinking kids are the same everywhere.
I have become slightly obsessed with the statues that pop up around Winterthur, in the unlikeliest of places. These silent sentries with their watchful eyes sometimes invoke the dramatic and sometimes the mundane. Yet, something is intriguing in their gaze that keeps me searching for them.
A few of the many unique sculptures scattered across Winterthur
As I begin to dig deeper into my research into the politics of looking, the interrelations between image and ecology, and writing on photography within extractive economies, a conversation with my research guide and residency coach, Mara, leads me to historical links to Winterthur’s connection with nineteenth-century colonial India. Such unexpected findings are perhaps the most rewarding aspect of a researcher’s journey into unknown territories.
The weekend was spent foraging in a lively flea market where I found and bought old photographs and prints. An apt souvenir, I think, that I will cherish forever from this research trip. The irony is not lost on me that the oriental picturesque prints by Fisher, Son & Co, a British publisher, found in a Swiss street, were what made me feel a little less homesick.
A collection of prints, photographs, cards, letters, and stamps from Winterthur flea market
