Images circulate within my studio. They jump from drawing table to flat file, from floor to photocopier, from projector back onto paper. They accrue artifacts when they fall to the floor and get stepped on. They shift materially when they get projected, traced, photocopied, or filmed. The images are always in transit and their voyages result in inevitable material change.
My drawing process starts on a stack of paper. The pages comprising the stack might be blank, or they might contain old or found drawings or texts. The unwanted or overworked might disappear to the bottom of the stack only to reemerge when the pages above are ripped or bored through. Holes emerge, allowing materials (paint, graphite, ink, water) to leak and travel though the stack. The precarious images in these stacks are simultaneously on the verge of appearing and of falling apart.
The trash pile has emerged as a location in my studio. It’s where unintended consequences might exit the studio (though there’s still a chance that they re-enter the work by being put back into the stack).
Anxiety urges me to find a conceptual framework for my projects. Too often I determine a framework too soon, which ends up stifling my process. I have been attempting to defer the imposition of a framework in the interest of sustaining the potentialities within my process. (Would I do away with the ability to communicate if I did away with a conceptual framework?) While creating the PDF Thin Places, I worked on the stacks of drawings for as long as possible before introducing the text and found images, which gave the drawn images a world to exist within. [The text was adapted from an Irish tourist website and the images of holes in frozen lakes were pulled from various online sources.]
I’m interested in reanimating dead objects (this is how Selina Trepp thinks of her studio practice). The other day I tore apart a bunch of texts, drawings, and photocopies that I had been storing in my flat file. Ripped apart on the floor, they’ve regained their potential. I've found myself looking for ruptures that inject new intensity into my studio practice.