I keep thinking about the work i’m creating and what it means for it to exist… Fragments, one word sentences, newspaper clippings, excerpts from situations, parties, conversations with other artists. I can just about see that there will be a time when I can grasp and overview. However that does not mean I face my mortality *just yet*.
We live by a system of mapping, of measuring and reflecting on what has passed and will pass. I face the question of now and I feel that each moment that alerts me to it should somehow carry a time signature. Today as I sat through a talk on being and Being, I watched how the speaker moved and executed himself. Perhaps it was the temperature of the room or a recent meditation session that had impacted my perception but I kept thinking of sequences and ruptures. He came to discuss the idea of a ‘thing’ based on Kant and Heidegger’s thoughts and I started to unravel my own idea of thing in relation to time, sculpture and video. Here’s my idea of what he meant from a phenomenological point of view:
‘Things aren’t there until we encounter them, they are a presence felt through the everyday but disturbed, what it hidden comes into view.’
So when I reflect on the surface of things (apparently the limit of things) that is all they can be. However I am not seeing affinity yet with my concepts and practice. There is still some bridging to do.
I reflect upon my ‘things’, my chance encounters with newspapers, the signs I unleash on behalf of my unconscious. Thank you unconscious for doing the hard part of observing. How do you feel about things, unconscious? The notes I make, the interruptions I have from my awareness, scribbles or mischievous graffiti, these are my time signatures. I just have to realize what i’m signing my signature for…
Poem: Today, Tomorrow And A Half Eaten Ice-Cream (June 2012).
Sourced from newspaper clippings.