Prompt 7

What do I want to make? Who am I? What am I interested in?

I have no idea.  I just want to make cool work.  Work that moves people.  Work that makes me happy. Work that I feel good about.  Work that's balanced, thoughtful, thoughtless.  I don't wish to reduce the network of thoughts, emotions, concerns, the network of my mind, the atlas of my psyche to a graph or a simple description.  I'd rather leave it a mystery to myself and others.  It's more fun that way.  I really just hope to explore my mind and let my "work" change and evolve as I do.  I think that whatever I make is a psychic atlas of sorts.  Expression, exploration, and impacting those who come into contact with my "work" are key motivators for me.


I suppose the sculpture above reveals a little bit about my thought process and my way of thinking symbolically.  Recently, with the past two assignments for my sculpture one class, I seem to have developed some sort of interest in the differences and similarities, the contrasts and relationships between childhood and childish things--puzzle pieces, building blocks, etc.-- and more adult and heavy subjects/themes such as death, memory, mystery, uncertainty, hardship, etc.  The above sculpture is an example.

For another sculpture one assignment we were required to use styrofoam packaging materials like the ones that might be used to package and hold in place a television or computer in its box. We had to use these stryofoam pieces as plaster molds, pouring plaster into them to create interesting shapes.  The assignment was to use these methods to create a purely formal sculpture without any intentional symbolic meaning or narrative.

This is what I made--Please disregard the debris in the background as it is not part of the sculpture.  The main two slabs are not necessarily intended to resemble lego bricks, however the resemblance to legos is clear.  This resemblance was not totally intentional on my part.  But I find it interesting that this pattern of interest in puzzle pieces, in the way things fit together, in child's play, in aging, in death, has emerged in my "work", that these conflicting and yet connected concerns have become obvious--I think-- in my "work." Sometimes I find myself humming or singing a song.  Once I catch myself singing that song I often realize that the lyrics and or melody represent exactly how I feel at that moment.  Somehow my feelings and thoughts break through and surface from my subconscious mind; I become aware of them.  I am starting to think that the same phenomenon applies to my work.



I really think that my first and second in-class presentations are the clearest psychic atlases I could make at this point in my life.  But the above sculptures demonstrate to some extent the way my subconscious preoccupations, my feelings, general interests, personality, etc., surface and manifest themselves in my "work."  If you take the time to read into these sculptures and the work below a bit, you might find that they probably reveal quite a lot about me.  So, in a way, these sculptures are mini psychic atlases. I think that the same motivations and concerns that are behind work above and below, or at the very least the same process of my own subconscious motivations and concerns emerging and becoming apparent to me through my work, will be a part of anything that I make in the future.  

I made the above painting in an oil painting class I took at SVA a while ago.  We were learning to mix colors.  I was having a hard time with that and got frustrated.  I wasn't too happy with how my painting was coming along, so I kind of just let loose and went nuts.  It is my favorite painting that I made in that class.

I made this a couple of years ago when I was super baked.  I took a loose piece of board from my bed at home and started drawing.  It's very improvised, so I think it's a good mini psychic atlas.

The One Minute Psychic Atlas

The One Minute Psychic Atlas (on November 5, 8:00 pm - 8:01 pm) 

disconnect, excess, moderation, seeking the reckless, tension, self-deprecation, lightness, drowsy, terrified, feeling and not feeling, overheated, scrunched, tight, overheated, dizzy, overdone, spent, lightness, stillness, overheated, unkept, undone, but there's the lightness 

Can You See the Freak on the Screen?

Every week when one of these prompts comes along, I freak.

“What am I going to do with this?”

Then I think of an idea. And then I freak about how to pull off my cockamamie idea. Usually I feel so pressed by the Tuesday, 6pm, deadline, that procrastination never feels like a viable option. Have I mentioned that I love deadlines?

This time, even though the format leapt to my mind tout-de-suite, I was invoking every avoidance technique in order to evade execution. Cleaning, health-insurance forms, shopbop, you name it.

What would I say that wouldn’t sound stupid? Trite, silly, boring, old, mid-life-crisisey?

Or, what if I have nothing to say at all? I just learned the French phrase for writer’s block, and it’s as terrifying a phrase as ours but, as one would expect from the French, with a perfectly conjured visual component:

“L’angoisse de la page blanche.”

The anxiety of the white page.

Equally applicable to computers and paper. This time, I was using paper. So refreshing.

When I read Kerstin Bratsch’s list of an artist’s statement, I knew that mine needed to follow the format of Mark Lombardi’s wonderfully subversive “Narrative Structures” pencil diagrams, mapping out the personal and business connections of individuals involved in highly public political and financial scandals like Iran-Contra.

Although I found Lombardi’s work as exciting as everybody else did when his career took off in the late ‘90s, in his late 40s, I don’t recall having seen his work anytime since. (Lombardi hanged himself soon after attaining prominence.) The one reason that comes to mind is that it is the rare example of word art that I connected to immediately and viscerally, and because of Bratsch’s list format and energy, this feels like a text-art assignment to me. Not surprisingly, Lombardi's work is heavy on narrative, my constant drumbeat.

My between-me-and-me visual differs in a million ways from Lombardi’s but there are two especially that stand out. First, his are meticulously plotted and laid out with perfect symmetry. They convey serious thought that results in stunning visual pleasure. Second, Lombardi tells true stories, ripped from the headlines. My between-me-and-me is neither of these things.

When I finally made myself go for it, it was Sunday, midnight, with a looming French exam pushing me to have it out. On my kitchen windowsill, I keep an Ikea roll of paper, about a foot-and-a-half wide and just right for this project. I am attracted to the Jack Kerouac-ness of the scroll and yet, I was relieved to find a page ripped off already for a different project, by another person, about Israel, the Jews and the bible. (Surely you have similar projects strewn about your home, no?)

Oh well, this sheet was perfect for me. The less deliberation, the better. I had no idea what was going to come out of me, out of the friendly friction of my yellow lead-pencil, my preferred writing implement.

Well, you can see where this is going. It flew out of me in minutes. One of those creation moments that I have read about that has never happened to me, at least not that I remember. I don’t struggle, typically, but nothing flies out and feels complete so quickly, so effortlessly. Then again, 22 hours later, I can’t look at it closely either. It feels too embarrassing, too revelatory. But that’s what we’re here for, right? Creating isn’t about others. It’s all me me me me me.

Admittedly, my between-me-and-me isn’t screen-worthy. I can’t bring myself to make it so, nor do I want to, likely because it isn’t meant to be. The screen is too perfect, too exacting, not just for this particular – work? that feels way too formal, too big a credit; so I am declaring it a – thought process; but also for me and the way I operate.

This past summer, I spent a couple weeks in Jerusalem on a fellowship. On the penultimate day of the program, we each wrote a letter to ourselves that would be mailed to our homes in three months time. Mine arrived a couple weeks ago, and I still haven’t the guts to open it. I remember making lots of promises to do lots of things, like ambulance work with the Magen David, the Jewish and Israeli (and uncorrupt) version of the Red Cross (Magen David means “Star of David”). When I got home, I discovered I am too old for the Magen David. Defeat.

What else was in there? One day I will find out.

Meanwhile, my between-me-and-me is about my life now. No grandiose promises but lots of hopes about what I want my work to be, which basically means what I want my life to be.

So here goes, a big-picture picture that is totally illegible, and a few choice close-ups.

Mary: I can show you the original in person.

Not pretty but lots of heart.

Here are more:

At the bottom, I quote Rav Yaacov Palanik: "Don't be so open-minded that your brains fall out." I exhort myself, "Open! More! More! Bigger! Bigger! More. I am shaking out my brains." This is about having an open mind about myself, my work.

At the center of my diagram is "Eye & Idea."See the heart? Beating at the center? Ha.

A little Hebrew, a little French, in the upper right. A shout-out to my classmate, Chad B, bottom center.

More ...

Nu ... ?

Why

Control/Lack of Control

I am obsessive, anxious, systematic, efficient, and logical. My work is the same. I make art so the ideas in my head, my obsessions, my neuroses, don't consume me. I like repetition, patterning, pointless tasks because they allow me not to think. I can become almost robotic, which for me is a form of meditation, an escape. I like subjects that worry me in someway. Language has been my most recent fascination. Dictionaries and thesauruses. They are simple and rigid in their construction but language itself has a fluidity a whimsy which I want to achieve. I want to be whimsy and funny. I think my work is funny. It really is meant to be but no one ever sees it that way. So I guess I'm not funny. (Womp)

I am too calculated probably to be funny. Too focused on putting things into grids, patterns, systems. Making the random not random. Even if it appears random my work is not random. Not at all. Everything has a numerical value. I like numbers. Algorithms are fascinating to me. Coding is such a weird concept to me. How numbers and random letters can become a way to create something completely different. I don't know but it makes sense and doesn't. I guess it's a language with a functional definition. Guess we're back at languages, see I am pretty damn predictable. Everything in a system even my thoughts loop back.
I hate writing. I really have no sense of how to pick words. The right words, despite my obsession with them. Maybe it's because I don't see them as words. Words are shapes with a pattern in their form. I don't sound them out, I just look and process. I read fast, too fast for my own good perhaps. Maybe that's why my mind can race I save so much time reading through images because to me that's what words are. That's why I like art with text so much because to me it makes so much sense. It is just another form. In that context I like using it as a form. Making people see words the way I do. Not as a sound but as an image. I don't like sounds. I'm tone deaf. I love jazz. Jazz is a pattern too. A whimsical rhythm with a structure that seems structureless. The balance between is what makes it so amazing to listen to. You get lost in it. Even if I can't really hear the difference between the notes I get the timing.
I'm just rambling now.
To sum this up. In short as stated at the beginning I make art to find a balance between control and a lack of control. It applies not just for my work but also in my life. I want to find a place where I can still have unpredictability but in a way that I can at least narrow the possibilities into a field I want. A controlled chance. That's what I am striving for. Who knows if I will achieve that. Seems mildly impossible. But hey it's something to search for and I have a whole life ahead of me to try to find it.
Remember that piece from a long time ago...head on head...now thats a whole book.

Prompt 7: MY PSYCHIC ATLAS

Kerstin Bratsch is a New York and German based artist who works in painting, sculpture, installation, design and performance. Her practice is as much about making an exhibition - designing and installing an exhibition as a project -- as it is about creating individual works.

Bratsch received her MFA from Columbia in 2007. While at Columbia she wrote an artists statement titled "My Psychic Atlas" which probes and distills what is closest to her in her work - and asks the very tough question of herself in her practice - what is it that I really care about and commit myself to as an artist? 

Read Kerstin's Psychic Atlas here. 

For Prompt 7, write your own Psychic Atlas. This can be in list form, as Kerstin Bratsch did - or in paragraph form, or script, or whatever road the project takes you. The important thing to focus on is the question: between me and me, what is my work? 

Prompt #6

I'm sorry this is late--I had to wait for my friend to send me these files and he took longer than planned!

First and foremost, as you know, I am a visual thinker. Music doesn't make much sense to me. A completely invisible world of senses? How is that possible??? I talk about this a lot with one of my best friends, who is an acoustic thinker. The comments he makes about the way things sound are always so surprising and funny to me because if he hadn't have been there, I would have missed it. For example, one time we were cooking and when I dropped the fish on the pan, he said, "That sound is so hot." It was literally hot, but so not hot, i.e. very unattractive. Even though it's loud, I can't see it, so I don't notice it.

The first song is an unfinished piece he wrote based on journeys he and I have had together. What's crazy is that, because I know what he's referencing, I can understand the sound. When I listen to this song, my brain shuts off and I begin re-experiencing memories that I have stored in my mind's eye. When I say that my brain shuts off, I mean that I stop seeing. This is hard to articulate. I can't focus on anything--if someone were to wave their hand in front of my face I probably wouldn't notice. It feels like my brain is shutting off because I am normally so dependent on seeing. Try to listen to the song loud on high-quality speakers; you'll "see" how it makes your brain feel like it's melting. I really do think my friend is a genius.

The other song is something he sent me by accident when he was trying to send me the correct file twenty-two minutes ago, but it has a similar effect.

Find songs on SoundCloud

Prompt #6: When there is nothing to see, you look.

We often tend to take things for granted. Even the very environment that surrounds us is not something unusual. Our eyes swiftly move around, seeking to sense something sensational or outstanding; yet, by doing so, it is easy to miss the great detail that exists around us. For instance, I looked around my room, searching for something new. To my disappointment, there was nothing that captured my eye, or even moved my heart. At that moment, I decided to stop seeing, and to "look" at a particular thing. A silver lightbulb, which was illuminating with bright, shining light, was standing solidly on a desk. It did not move, yet this very stillness captured my attention; it was shining by itself, spreading light all around the room. Then, I looked at the window behind. The white, linear quality of the window was fresh and fascinating. There was great simplicity with the strictly linear lines of the window. I realized, that when I see something, I miss the hidden meaningful, interesting feature of the detail. When I look, there is a panorama of depth and excitement,