This seems like such a long time ago.  Walking through the vast corridors of the Arsenale building, through the blocked prohibited passages, light-less away from the thousands of things on display.  A claustrophobic glimpse away from the hundred meter diorama screens of AES+F into a corned of water-bowled TV displays.  An unfinished performance, dinner with a party of drunken men crying their way through Ukranian songs, a club with David Eliott dancing in the middle of porn videos, sober Moscow ‘galleristes’, myself discussing the firebird with a long red haired girl dressed in head to toe red spandex.  Oleg Kulik a welcome, intelligent presence – leaves the party with the fire-girl-bird.  Celebration though my head feels as if in its own portable fish tank.

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