I'll soon be moving into my first ever "formal" studio space. Most of
my artmaking happens on site or is highly mobile so that I can bring it
with me and work on it wherever I find the time. Not needing a studio
has been a convenience both financially and in the sense that I can work
privately, without other artists observing my practice.
Now,
however, I've decided it's time I became more social in my practice,
and got feedback from my peers as I work. I'm also in desperate need of
space and storage, which is a different subject entirely.
I'm thinking of Daniel Buren's essay The Function of the Studio from
1971, in which he questions the space between the studio and the
gallery– or wherever it is the work might be displayed. While I feel
that Buren's preference that an artwork not be dissociated from its
place of origin supports the way I've been working over the years, I'm
interested in thinking about his theory in a totally different way. How
can a work of art acknowledge the space and time between its studio
origins and public display? I'm also wondering if this relates to the
way a human leaves their place of origin– i.e., their parent's home– and
goes out on their own "when the piece is ready" or has a certain
"preparedness for the outside"?
Perhaps these are
questions I can explore once I start utilizing a studio space more and
thinking about the mobility of my work from point A to point B. Just a thought.
All the behind-the-scenes, personal, inspirational, documentational, and in-progress work of Alexandra Fritz.
9.05.2011
9.02.2011
Questions for the Studio
Here are a list of questions, themes, and concepts I am currently thinking about/will be making work about in the near future:
- How can I extend my body?
- How can I leave my body completely?
- How can I leave space completely?
- What is the relationship of my "self" to my body? (Embodiment, representation)
- How is gender projected in digital space versus physical space?
- How do I free myself from the influence of time?
- "I not only have a body, I am a body" vs. "You don't have a soul, you are a soul– you have a body"
- Authentic self vs. Inner self vs. Projected self vs. Ideal self
- What is the relationship of a "self" (being) to its time and space? How do we become conscious of that dependency?
9.01.2011
Parallax
I recently finished reading a book called Parallax by Steven Holl. While the book is primarily about architecture, there were some great thoughts about space and perception. I'd like to share some of my favorite moments that I've highlighted in the book.
"Experience is understood not only via objects or things, yet space is only perceived when a subject describes it. As that subject occupies a particular time, space is thus linked to a perceived duration. The virtual body, as a system of nerves and senses, is "oriented" in space" (13).
"From touching the smallest detail to sensing the movement of a body and its acceleration in space– all of these sensations criss-cross in the chemistry of things" (58).
"We can disassemble these elements and study them individually during the design process they merge in the final condition, and ultimately we cannot readily break perception into a simple collection of geometries, activities, and sensations" (62).
"The essences of material, smell, texture, temperature, and touch vitalize everyday existence" (68).
"Light can be read both as the phenomenon of light in words and the pressure of light in science. Language without sentences, just like natural light, has essences that transcend specific meanings and purposes. Language becomes a form of light while light becomes language" (104).
"Time– as experience duration– is relative to an individual and to a space" (188).
"Space and time are only relations between our lived bodies and things that happen. Their experiential measure is duration" (200).
"An individual's experience can be limited by... physiological effects of space and enclosure. But the perceiver's angle of vision and preconception is potentially open to limitless associations" (222).
"Environments contain patterns, "lines of force, and– if we can read them– meanings" (305).
"The paradox of the parallax remains in the seeing self who, in moving, changes the perspective... that is, changes the things seen" (349).
There are countless other big ideas embedded in the beautiful prose of this book– ideas that I couldn't begin to summarize or break down into easy chewable fast-facts. These are only a handful of my favorite moments that could be narrowed down to short poignant thoughts. On top of that, the book offers gorgeous imagery. I'd definitely recommend this book to any architect, sculptor, or installation artist interested in thinking about space in a novel way.
"Experience is understood not only via objects or things, yet space is only perceived when a subject describes it. As that subject occupies a particular time, space is thus linked to a perceived duration. The virtual body, as a system of nerves and senses, is "oriented" in space" (13).
"From touching the smallest detail to sensing the movement of a body and its acceleration in space– all of these sensations criss-cross in the chemistry of things" (58).
"We can disassemble these elements and study them individually during the design process they merge in the final condition, and ultimately we cannot readily break perception into a simple collection of geometries, activities, and sensations" (62).
"The essences of material, smell, texture, temperature, and touch vitalize everyday existence" (68).
"Light can be read both as the phenomenon of light in words and the pressure of light in science. Language without sentences, just like natural light, has essences that transcend specific meanings and purposes. Language becomes a form of light while light becomes language" (104).
"Time– as experience duration– is relative to an individual and to a space" (188).
"Space and time are only relations between our lived bodies and things that happen. Their experiential measure is duration" (200).
"An individual's experience can be limited by... physiological effects of space and enclosure. But the perceiver's angle of vision and preconception is potentially open to limitless associations" (222).
"Environments contain patterns, "lines of force, and– if we can read them– meanings" (305).
"The paradox of the parallax remains in the seeing self who, in moving, changes the perspective... that is, changes the things seen" (349).
There are countless other big ideas embedded in the beautiful prose of this book– ideas that I couldn't begin to summarize or break down into easy chewable fast-facts. These are only a handful of my favorite moments that could be narrowed down to short poignant thoughts. On top of that, the book offers gorgeous imagery. I'd definitely recommend this book to any architect, sculptor, or installation artist interested in thinking about space in a novel way.
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