It has been a real treat to come back to my installation, which was on an indefinite stand-still since the beginning of last summer. The project, which would be my first after establishing the co-op, was energizing at first: I have been writing for years but not in a way that was ever explored visually and/or tangibly. But after hours of standing before glass and transcribing my work, I grew immensely detached from each story as though I was simultaneously deconstructing them into punctuation marks and letters separate. After finishing two pieces, all of my commitment to the work had diminished. What were once intimate and tightly held objects of my intellectual spirit were now just a scattering of words that felt far away from their original meanings.

For the first few months post intended show date, I was disappointed that I had perhaps failed to find a concept for my writing that would not tire with its execution. Writing is, for many, a precious part of remembrance, self-preservation and catharsis. But for one reason or another, writing not with pen and paper but instead with vinyl on glass had a completely different emotional outcome. Sure, it was far more tedious than the more conventional process but what was behind it anyway that made it so much more demanding?

I then realized that writers often transcend its physical process. It may be one of the least physical processes of creation that I can think of. Even song involves a great deal of bodily strength and breath, painting-a steady hand and arm but writing? A nearly imperceptible dance of the wrist on paper as the forefinger and thumb clench the instrument tight.

So I started to explore this by exaggerating my writing in size. Words swelled, the spaces between them lengthened and the objects on which they were written grew taller. Suddenly, pealing stickers involved more of my body and thus felt more deliberate.

So now, as I stand in front of my third piece, I make sure not to sit. I make sure to use the span of my arms because that motion is exactly what these stories deserve. If the writing must remain dynamic, so should I. Let’s see how big I can go.


This entry was written by lightedhand and published on January 25, 2012 at 11:31 pm. It’s filed under 8folds artists. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

One thought on “BIG

  1. onthefold on said:

    It is great to read about your reflections on an artist’s block (which we’ve all experienced at one time or another) and how you got past it. When you’re not working, time can just fly by. I’m so glad you have you back! You are so valuable to me as a studio partner, someone who can hold me accountable for showing up as well.

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