So I was starting to do a journal. At UVic, there was this one prof who allowed complete visual journals to be handed in, so now my stuff is always trying to marry form and content. So I just fold a paper into three parts. I decided to use the inside of it to represent the exteriors that I experienced. I divided it into various types of windows and doors that we saw in New York: frosted, clear, and the void.
I hope the scans are clear.
The first one is vellum windows with a small figure peering in. Remember when you were peering in windows to check out this gold chain thing? It's often the gestures and sounds that stood out for me.
The second one is supposed to be clear windows, but the scan turned out black.
The third one is unfinished, but I wanted to talk about the void and the emptiness and permission granted to viewers to act not according to "normal gallery conduct". I thought that these entrances were interesting to compare and contrast. The frosted glass provokes curiosity. It forces the audience to go in, instead of peering in briefly and judging that it isn't worth their time. The clear glass panes of Prada, Balencigia, and comme des garcons were deceiving in its transparency. Viewers are welcome to consume visually, but if they don't consume financially, they are unwelcome. The constant clicking followed us everywhere. The nervous collection and accumulation of statistics used somewhere in fiscal annual reports and cost-benefit analyses and other financial lingo I don't even know about. =P
So my question still remains... who is design for? who is our audience as designers and artists?
The last one that's unfinished. Anish Kapoor's piece in the Guggenheim.. I was going to talk about this strange window with its deceiving frame. This work tucked away in this gallery institution is troublesome for the guard. All he really had was that line taped to the floor. Otherwise, he was anxious, fidgety, and rattling his pen. We were welcome to this portal, but there was a limit. I think we were pushing the envelope, however, using sound. In the quietness of a gallery with its almost library or shrine-like silence, the screaming was equally intrusive. It's almost like Kapoor created this pocket in a gallery to disrupt the space and everyone's expectations. The sign that seemed like the entrance led us down a small hallway that only offered a glimpse of the exterior. After that, we were scouring for the rest of it... trying to figure out what the rest of the sculpture looked like, imagining all kinds of possibilities. When we reached the room, it was empty except for a black square.
Now I recall Marcin's conversation with a student trying to explain the purpose of paintings with flat solid colours. He talked about colours in relation to each other. This was while we were standing in front of Warhol's Disaster Series.. one panel featuring a crash repeated, the other panel solid red. I thought that a disaster series could simply be a series of solid red panels of various sizes on walls, floors, and maybe ceilings.
We went towards the rest of the sculpture and were confronted by its enormity, its intrusiveness. We did not approach it, we stood back.
I wonder what the guard thought of us in that other room. He clearly heard all of the screams, the singing, the whispering, but was he nervous? Was he wondering why the other guy wasn't doing his job? Does he really care? What is his relationship to the artwork here?
This made me think that the guards play a very powerful role in the dissemination and invitation to knowledge in spaces like these. It would be interesting to explore this further in performance possibilities or even creating works that disrupt normal expectations.
My second journal, if I ever get to it, would be about my PS1 experience. But you can share this with the class.
And the third one would be about Harlem. I was going to use images of cameras and frames that allow us to engage in a culture where we feel excluded and wary of
Hope this helps.