The moment here. The breath, the whisper In the space between The whisper of wind is unseen. A visual artist makes visible the invisible senses? The hidden things in between the spaces. Negative space Dark matter Other world faces Rain spatter. Water floods and fire takes to the sky an elemental maelstrom A sparkle in your eye.
I have been thinking about The Whisper
Whispering is defined as speaking very softly using ones breath instead of ones vocal chords.
This makes sense of the phrase “the whisper of wind”
Which, in turn, explains my sense that a whisper can touch, tickle, and stir movement in your state of being the way that wind can touch the skin.
Push mightly in gusts
Blow out the cobwebs
Play with your hair
Chill you to the bone
I tense myself against autumnal winds
Go giddy in the summer breeze at dusk
In all these ways the breath can speak to the body
I’m thinking about how being present with the work adds to the art experience when people visit. I’m thinking about what reliance on ‘wall text’ removes from the dynamic in an art gallery. So far, we have no wall text describing the work. This exhibition is one in which people sit on the floor and chat, quite naturally and without being asked. It’s not one where they circle the gallery and read the walls. Every day is different.
One of the first things I find myself saying when people walk into the laboratory is “feel free to ask us questions!”
And if they look a bit uncertain about what they are looking at, I explain how dialogue is part of this process and we are interested in their impressions and responses too.
Yes, their impressions are more important to me than whether they ‘understand my work’. What I think I’m trying to say can change day by day, such is an artists life – this artist’s life? – I want to know what they see and think and there starts the conversation, there emerges the excitement of a meeting of minds (worlds).
Two students, came together, Sun and Hailee. I told them about Rapunzle when they asked, and the time she shaved her hair off.
Sun noticed that I’d left a needle hanging from the bottom of the basket and how it seemed to create a connection with the lilypad underneath.
He told me about the Chinese legend of the Monkey King, whose mother put him in the middle of a Lotus and floated him down a river and he was adopted by The Goddess of Mercy.
(I think Sun is looking the name up on his phone in the above photograph as he later showed me the Chinese – English translations.)
Today’s thoughts on why dialogic process is important to me.
A peek at my WhatsApp chat.
When the artwork is invisible, happening in the dialogue in ‘the space between’ how do you share it?
By writing about it and talking about it I suppose. But most importantly by demonstrating it. No, by being it.
The lived experience of art in action…
Maybe it remains a private thing, until the seeds of a dialogue spout and take root in our lives. There is the creativity I am most interested in.
I feel a bit vulnerable about this post, because it is a true unedited reflection of my morning thoughts.
I would like to, in the course of my group residency, find a moment of dissent I can call my own.
Is it possible to find a deeper truth?
I always thought truth would be firm enough to stand on, at least for a moment, like a stepping stone in the river. Until then, my intentions are to show up for a dialogue. To show up without an agenda that would contextualise my actions… so it will be uncomfortable.
It will be uncertain. But I will be open to possibilities, I will be open to influence And in the flux I will find my standing place: Balancing the inside with the outside