totally illegal part 2
i carried my zines and my cardboard to the fair on the sunday of the first week. it was packed, and my ticket spared me a long wait in the line outside. after a stroll through the booths of countless publishers and seeing what felt like millions of books, booklets, prints, magazines, and catalogues, i found the zines area. a quick question to one of the legal sellers: do you mind if i set up my illegal booth here? confusion. “ok” is the answer. i put down my bag and start to assemble my bauchladen (“belly shop”). the sellers across from the flow of people read my sign and smile in approval. the visitors are shy but interested. most of them pass once and then come back to have a look. “you are really illegal?” “yes, totally illegal.” members of the fair’s staff pass too, but they don’t stop to ask such things. most don’t even glance at me and just hurl along the rows and rows of tables, squeezing through the viscous mass of visitors. people take pictures of my seemingly peculiar appearance. selling my gap zine in between the other booths is a great addition to the zines concept. i feel like it has become more about the act of standing there, showing and talking, more than actually selling. week two. this time i am starting on saturday. same procedure as last week; this time i even spot a greater gap for myself. someone did not set up their table, as if they knew of their replacement by the illegal booth. after an hour, a guy in a black rain jacket comes to me, not talking or asking me much, just looking at my zine. i try to explain the concept of the zine, but he makes me understand he understands. no need to explain. it might be the first person to actually get my concept—an almost disarming feeling. a good one. another hour goes by as more people have a look, talk, and take pictures—then it happens. a young man steps up to me, asking if i have got a booth number. “no, i don’t. it’s an illegal booth,” i say, pointing at my sign. “sorry, but we cannot have this here. you have to leave.” i try to tell him it is a performance and part of my zines concept, but it does not seem to help. my booth was made officially illegal. “please wait here,” he says, as i pack everything into my duffle bag. i wait and panic a little because i really don’t want anything to do with japanese law. two people show up and greet me: a lady in a pink shirt and a guy with glasses, both with blue badges reading “staff” and walkie-talkies. the woman asks me to see the zine i was selling. i am not sure if they want to see the incriminating evidence or are genuinely curious. nonetheless, i start my, by now very fluent, presentation of the booklets/booths concept. meanwhile, the guy with glasses is calling someone—it makes me uncomfortable. after hearing the speech of the accused, the woman gives me a couple of reasons why they can’t have my performance happening. i agree on every point and apologize, telling them i would keep the booth disassembled and put in a locker from now on. officer 1 and the lady leave the scene, but the man with glasses stays. “i have a friend at the outside part of the fair, and he will let you sell your zines at his legal booth.” i am surprised; i thought he was calling the cops on me earlier—instead, he was calling a real friend. he leads me to the outdoor area, and to my surprise i know my new host. it’s the guy with the black rain jacket from before.
his name is taishi "diego" nishihiro, and together with saki takasu and toru matsushita they form side core, an artist collective working in tokyo. they concern themselves with public space and street culture (and produce very very good work). being caught and brought to side core maybe was the best thing to happen to me at the fair. thanks to diego, i met some very interesting and kind people over the next days, was invited to ateliers, movie screenings, and gallery visits. thank you very much!
this time’s recommendations, of course: https://www.instagram.com/side_core_tokyo/?hl=de