I'm making this thing.
In 31 days I move it downstairs to a very refined gallery
space, certainly the swankiest I've ever presented my artwork in. I have
6 days to settle the piece in to its installation site.
In 37 days there is a big reception that all my classmates, my professors, my family and who knows who else will come to.
exhibition is up in the gallery for two weeks. Any time I have made a
big art project before, I've lamented not having time to sit with the
thing and learn from it, use it as a tool for learning, see how the tool
works. So for this piece, I will sit with and in the project during
all the hours the gallery is open. I'll continue working, and receiving
visitors will become part of the peice--a natural extension of the way I
already call in community as part of the research.
days I de-install this peice, pack it up, and probably store it in my
parents garage. There is no time where deinstallation of a major
project hasn't been a deeply emotional, rattling experience that makes
me feel, aimless, sad, numb, and honestly, no less than bereft.
Considering what a gift making art is, it always feels weird to talk
about what a big deal this is for me...and yet starting to write about
it I find myself lingering on the feelings.
This time, I
made a think that comes apart and straps to the top of my car. A thing I
can re-make in new forms in other places. I have no idea which
components of this will travel where next...or if any will at all. I
also have no idea whether this open door of possibility will make the
singularity of this experience feel like less of a Thing, in any good or