Monday, 27 December 2010

outside my window

is being recorded to be edited. in the meantime: a little trailer teaser.

thank you, l!

Saturday, 25 December 2010


eindruck_ausdruck [aka reflections 2]



the limitations of translations mark out the cheesiness of the simple polarity of impression and expression. i remember back to how i could never remember, or rather: differentiate, which method defined which school: what was the inside/outside, stimuli/response of the impressionists and the expressionists. it took a long time until i remembered that the former were the keen outdoorsy ones, soaking up the world in all its fleetingness to then express these impressions.

eindruck_ausdruck signify research and art. the keen observation of empirical facts, relations and circumstances. the correct identification of these impressions stimulates research. it is impressed, never to be impressionistic. how different from the cheap and hazy thrills that paint offered on canvas. and colour even. my heart races, my gullet sings with adrenaline and it all turns into colour and mark on canvas.

simple. isn't it.

departures to define a break with observation, impression, towards one of gesture and mark, expression.

i remember being scalded for not being expressive enough about my national, if not international expertise.
i remember the impressions left from fraught research relations and the bewilderment of others if these were dared to be expressed.
i remember the realisation that the kind of politics that mattered did not have a place. could not have a place in the institution (see expressive expertise).

observations that fed the lack of expression as the expressions i would seek were not sought.

i remember the excitement of the problems that a canvas could posit.
i remember the recognition that only close observation could resolve whatever expression.

i remember the boredom with proclamations that artistic expression was all that was needed.

present memories that simply are the internal relations of eindruck_ausdruck. they only exist in each other, are one everchanging dynamic. one

Wednesday, 22 December 2010

Sunday, 12 December 2010

Wednesday, 8 December 2010

to see again

"I wanted to see Kafka’s tomb. Knowing perfectly well (having verified it so many times) that you cannot see what you want to see, I went to the cemetery to see what I could not see. It’s the law. All is law. It’s because of desire. The law makes its nest in the peels of desire. Go on: you will not enter. If you did not desire to go, there would be a chance that the door would open." (Cixous, H. (1997), ’Attacks of the Castle’, in Leach, N. (ed.) Rethinking Architecture, London, New York: Routledge; p.303.)

i had forgotten about it. about the law that nests in the peels of desire. so i stumbled upon it over the past fortnight. as time unhooked itself; the temporal unfolding of anticipation dissipated one by one. peel by peel. events undid themselves. never took place. took place elsewhere and without. a series of undoings unmark time: plans that did not happen. a fortnight that did not happen leaves the plans as unmade.

and still time passed. in not happening it passed nonetheless. interrupted by the occasional sound outside the window. another leaked cable. another emptied battery cycle. time structured by anticipation - vorfreude - making its own laws of desire. with anticipation pulled, linearity dissipates. time? never there in its everpresence.

Sunday, 5 December 2010

to show

against the setting sun south of ibrox we skidded on icy pavements. first north, then south. tried to cross the road, not to drop the paintings and not to get too overtly lost. all the while covering (a) urban politics; (b) the innecessity of expensive pavements but of occasional grit; (c) academic attitude that cannot be explained by habitus; (d) the between rather than the either/or; (e) berlin, frankfurt and glasgow as elsewheres; (f) whether to turn corners tightly or not; and really that this city is so definitely build for cars. all the while nonetheless getting lost at every possible corner, despite the googling.

finally, the paintings were dropped off, unscuffed by the ice. we laughed: really the only way to deliver paintings to the house for an art lover. and skidded on.

it does make me reconsider painting though. i have to admit.

the show. here.