Third day, third blog. One a day for a week.
I’m working backwards through time a little bit, and looking back at the works I have done over the last wee while to get a feel for where I have been. I’m hoping this will also give me a feel for where I am going.
The second time I showed this work was in the Titirangi emerging artist awards in August 2014.
Notes from Reading. (End of Undergraduate to 1st August 2014)
Typewriter Ink on Paper Roll 22.5 cm x 10 cm as roll.
This was the artist statement I had to write for the show:
The quirk and chaos of these excerpts pushed together with no rhyme or reason show the eclecticism of influences that inform my art practice. These are things I have picked up and sometimes put down and forgotten, scribbles in my dog-eared notebooks of things I have heard, seen, read or thought.
Artists act like conduits, absorbing information from the world, internalising the parts that resonate, separating strands, connecting others, and constructing works that are ideas made solid, combinations of influences put in.
These are some of mine; words and ideas archived together in a rolling continuous document, jumbled and juxtaposed, a miscellany of information.
It’s fairly self explanatory, periodically I sit down at my typewriter and re-read through my notebooks. When something resonates, whether I have written it myself or have copied it from somewhere else, I type it in. The roll of paper acts a bit like my mind, my memory, or an archive where things are stored in a nonsensical way. The way I showed it as a roll denied the viewer access to all but the outside, compressing the document into an object rather than a piece of writing or a wall work.
I have plans, when I finally finish the roll (its a very long roll) to possibly seal it in plastic so that even I can’t access the information. So in a way the information contained within will be sealed, forgotten, archived. Then perhaps later I can have the pleasure of tearing the plastic open and finding anew all that had resonated with me. Or I can have the pleasure of knowing that all those thoughts and reflections are safely sealed away.
And what do I think about the work now as I sit here and look at it again later? I still like it. I like that although time intensive it is pretty simple. That it is personal but not too touchy feely. The artists hand is seen in the curled paper and the typos in the text. The text also shows only glimpses of the artists mind. A record not only of things I was reading but also the kind of journey someone undertakes on a Masters degree when there is so much to read, so much to look at, to think about that it can become all jumbled up inside your head.
Each small fragment of thought, of research is chronologically ordered but no date is given so narratives play out within the text but are unintentional. Unintentional but honest in a way because they are the things that informed my thinking, the narratives are my own, even if unrealised.
I ask myself why didn’t I write a digital copy at the same time, a massive perplexing document that is a history and archive an immense map of my reading and thinking journey. Something that could be cut and pasted turned into video, projected on a wall, run through Google translate, printed in various sizes of type from the ridiculously large to the tiniest text to fit in on a single sheet of paper.
I think this idea, this collection of input has potential directions that I haven’t explored. Isn’t that true of all artworks? There is always something else you can do with it?