3 pieces finished, one to go, touch-up wheat paste, erase pencil marks, buy brighter floods, focus lights, clean up, pick up old studiomate at the bus station.
except for my one large wall drawing, which keeps getting installed and re-installed every few months in a totally, completely different form (one time time it was a straight line, another time it filled a historic ballroom, another time it dripped from a ceiling, this time, it meanders along the wall’s surface, 16 feet long), I’ve been living in this white-on-white space. I’m sort of in love with it. I visualize a low, sleepy pulse, as one might meditate at night, heartbeat syncing with breathing.
I’ve been really happy working with this much space… it’s such a contrast from the last show, where there were ~20 installations, and this time it’s just the three of us. tonight, a few of the resident artists were catching up in the kitchen/stage, I wrapped up my work for the evening and walked across to turn off the floods. this piece that I’d finished yesterday, a grid of 84 drawing squares of hand-waxed hosho paper, suddenly morphed into this like… stone optical illusion. before, with gallery lights on, there were clear shadows; the perforations and scratched lines cast themselves onto the wall in nearly direct translation. with the gallery lights off, the line between shadow and paper edge was simply blurry, and it was pretty amazing to see the piece melt into itself. it even caught one of the gallery folks mid-conversation.
don’t you love that though? unexpected turns when you’re working one way and then another new, always-there way dumps itself into your lap. one installation at a time, I say.
