was bleibt

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Thinking about the desert includes to think about sand and erosion. In its continuous transformation sand stands for something that is unthought and somewhat unthinkable. It's pixelated nature captures origin and estuary, derivation and desition, emergence and finish, begin and endlessness in its continuous alteration of hard grains. Finding meaning is its attribute. It works as a sign that is ambiguous. Sand as a screen. Sand as background. Sand as medium. Sand as the beginning. It's like the negative space of reality when something that is happening to us right now becomes the foreground. We feel this thing happening in the space of the in-between. There is this invisible field happening and yet it effects us cellularly.

For painting, according to the new conception, the aim was to solve a problem: How can one create the vibrating liveliness and tension of an illusory three-dimensional space without violating the two-dimensional integrity of the picture plane? Because without this tension, so the definition of the problem, the picture would be nothing but linear arabesques, flat patterns like in a lifeless and meaningless decorative frieze. This tension, however, always involved the risk of tearing the fragile membrane of the picture surface, puncturing it with the empty spaces created by the all-too-urgent flight into the distance.

𝐴𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒
𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝐼 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔
𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑠
𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑜𝑛
𝐼 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝑜𝑛𝑒-𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑑, 𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔,
𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔.
𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡
𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡,
𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑐 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑖𝑟
𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑙𝑦
𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑧𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒.
𝑁𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒.
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑
𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑠
𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑎𝑚, 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑧𝑒,
𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒,
𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑚,
𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚,
𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ
𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡
𝑡𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑙𝑦,
𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡 𝑓𝑙𝑦 --
𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠.

3-30-20
Los Angeles

the creature within can only gaze through the pane—smudged or rosy;
it cannot separate off from the body like the sheath of a knife or the pod of a pea
…
it must go through the whole unending procession of changes
heat and cold, comfort and discomfort, hunger and satisfaction, health and illness
…
this monster the body, this miracle its pain

-from On Being Ill by Virgina Woolf

“I begin to separate myself from the landscape to see it...We have not yet discovered that nature is more it’s depth than its surface. You can modify, decorate, and dress up the surface. You cannot... touch it’s depth without touching the truth. A healthy need to be true comes over you. You would rather strip your painting down than invent or imagine a detail. You want to know.” 

- Cezanne subtitles by Straub Huillet

To see is to witness, to willingly stand, to plant two feet and allow a subject to play out its duration. The artist holds frame, a gaze that does not falter, to simply let matter unfold as the surrounding world unfolds unto itself.

-Jessica Dillon

Kyle Jorgensen

In 1969 Bruce Nauman conceived of an artwork that consisted of four words, “Leave the land alone.” Forty years later that work was written in the sky over South Pasadena, where Jorgensen currently resides. Being without a vehicle, the artist chose to participate in the exhibition virtually. A handful of images were sent to the participating artists, which visually describe access to the site - just east of Twenty Nine Palms, CA. These images became the material for the artist’s work. They consist of a screen grab of a gridded satellite image via Google, a snap of an empty concrete slab (which would act as a place of performance for some artists), and an image of a concrete culvert with arrows spray-painted on it. These arrows point in opposing directions. The work is an attempt at leaving the land alone and as a redaction.