faustus | The Triennial

I tried to go to this with an open mind. I'm aware how art can revitalise an area - but usually it's through artists finding a place that is dirt cheap, creating a buzz, and then the trendies move in, pushing up property prices (see Butler's Wharf, Hoxton). I'm not sure buying an area and sticking artists there works, no matter how philanthropic. Too much like producing art to order.

Folkestone could do with regeneration - although this was clearly a grey day:

After burning myself in Sandwich and Deal on Monday, on Tuesday I got hold of another Explorer ticket and headed south. Time for some art

There are various flags announcing the festival, but nothing at first indicating where any of it is, although I know I'll end up at the Leas. Shops even have posters. Waterstones has a fanzine reviewing the scene. First a coffee (or rather a hot chocolate) and a phone call from a colleague who professes himself impressed. Uhuh. Then, ok, via various bookshops and charity shops, to the library - which has children's guides but no offficial leaflet. Upstairs to the Sassoon suite.

As it was a film, I shall write about Tacita Dean's piece elsewhere. I will merely note I stayed awake. But the main thing: I now have a proper map. Art will fall into place!

One of the key bits of Triennial Trivia is - besides a seagull and a toring sf library - Tracey Emin's contribution. I admire Emin's work, I admire her - expecially her drunken interventions in BBC arts programmes, and I'm fascinating with the thought that she makes art because that is what artists do. This time it's a series of items which I believe have been bronzed, and left at strategic intervals.

I cut down Mill Lane (Cul de Sac) - not the most salubrious of streets - towards where the UCF is being established, in search of a disabled parking space where:

Is it my imagination or is the lost property lost? Is the first item the memory of an item - or like my photo of the invisble man?

Back to Tontine Street, and a pause to admire two buildings for colourfulness:

before seeing the work of art, Nathan Coley's "Heaven is a Place Where Nothing Ever Happens".

One of a series, I presume, with "The band in Heaven plays my favorite song", "Everyone is trying to get to the bar" and "Psycho Killer Qu'est-ce que c'est? fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa better Run run run run run run run away Oh OH oh AY AY AY AY AY Um" which needs a lot of neon.

Clearly it's an interesting thought, but David Byrne must be considering if this constitutes Fair Use.

I notice a bull's head on the corner, but I realise that this is not part of the Trienniel; instead I look for one of Richard Wentworth's piece, a plaque telling me the origin of one of the exotic trees which has made its home in Folkestone. I see various palms, but none of these seem to be the candidate. It could be anywhere. In fact, I'm having problems matching the map with the territory - is the leaflet the artwork?

I cross the road and sit with my back to the Stalag Burstin, trying make sense of the map. I've seen other people clutching theirs in determined hands. Judging from the diagram, there is art in the harbour. The boats? No.

A replica of a fish market, by Robert Kusmirowski, which is revealed at lowtide. Clearly time-base arts is being taken seriously. Neat, assuming I've actually seen it. They need to supply a tide table with this.

From the booklet I see that one of a number of Selja Kameric's images or posters (it's not clear which) is in the Burstin behind me. But where? Too much of this is beginning to sound like hide and seek - I know art doesn't habe to be immediate and it's interesting to see it in unexpected places (say, here) but what's the secret. I wander through the public rooms of the hotel and spot a likely candidate. It's a portrait view of the shot below, more severely cropped to the centre on the right hand side so that the place can look Bexhill-deco.

The Leas Lift is closed (for lunch) so the next Kameric is denied, so I trudge along the prom to seek out Richard Wilson: I'm looking for a crazy golf course, but I've misread it: there was a crazy golf course, but now it is three beach huts.

This has certain charm, and I feel the nee to brush it, although it says pool table to me rather than crazy golf. But I'm on a roll on the Leas, close to another piece of art.

But it is doesn't appear to be this:

A chess board with an abandoned game. Marcel Duchamp is in check, but he can take the rook with his rook. Nor was it a Shepway van - because I'm primed to look for something looking Shepway-like.

But what I find, under the Leas undercroft, is rather fun:

The plaque tells of a rumour about all the woes of Folkestone having resulted from the four inverted pyramids which support the undercroft - the originals were allegedly ritually destroyed and little evidence remains. A fascinating idea, a credible urban myth - but I didn't track down the film which accompanies it.

I walk back to the Leas Cliff Railway and ascend, taking photos, and at the top is another plaque on a tree. Somewhere. Apparently. I don't find it. Why the secret?

I've clearly scratched the surface here, so maybe need to come back and see what they've done to the Martello tower, and look for Emin's things. There's a screening of one of the Quatermass films, so maybe then. I've got until September.