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Instead of using a complex set of sentences, I am resorting to this hand-made sketch which in my opinion, synthesizes how I approach creation. As seen from the « side view », a startled individual stands in front of what looks like total confusion. I illustrated this state of chaos by drawing multicolored lines interweaving each other without direction or recognizable patterns. On the left, the « rear view » proposes a potential passage to the puzzled individual ; a path which can lead him to an ultimate destination. But the two-dimensional nature of this sketched representation hinders any precise judgement on the depth/length of the passage. So although the individual can see the end point and maybe feel partly reassured by its existence, he still needs to embark on the journey in order to assess the nature of his environment. And it is by going through this entire process of learning that the individual can eventually share his experience ; whether as wisdom or with an artwork.
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A Meditation on Improvised Narrative
The flickering light shifts and flutters, loops over and under itself, and suddenly the rectangle is broken as an image slides off to the side, around the corner and up the wall to caress the ceiling before shrinking into a smaller version of itself. Behind the silently breathing bodies in the dark, a projectionist loads and unloads loops, while manipulating prisms and lenses before the flickering light cone that pours and drips through her fingers like water from a tap.
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Preliminary Notes on the $100.....
The mountains foster a poster that can only be described as sublime; straight and not so straight people with their backs up against the cold cold rock, eyes upside forward, blissfully blinded by the whitewashed glare emanating from the mountain's tempered glass correlates, the not quite there space of a city teased by giants. Everything about the +15's reminds me of my estranged uncle and aunt. Late 90's beige perfection, carpets that were always vacuumed, yet never dashed with superfluous scents; Vanilla Refresh, Tropical Citrus Morning, Evergreen and Snow, all absent from their townhouse hidden in one of Vancouver's million dollar suburbs. Much like the +15's, their house had a perfect stepped on carpet smell, faded colours, the dustless smell of raked over fabric hiding the inert power of static bolts waiting to crawl through your socks...into your arms.....
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