Opening 1
I come back to these images of Małgorzata Dawidek. Caroline sent me them. Sent them to me. Whatever.
I wrote: "What they provoke in me is an empathy with the hole: wincing at the intrusion, welcoming the covering over, bracing a little at the sensitive cupping around or below, because it seems to presage some further violation. So here there is empathy for a hole in a tree trunk and that single pale arm has become strongly sexualised -- and unwelcome."
I am not so sure now. Did I get that wrong? The soft hand seems vulnerable in and with the roughly abrasive hole. Was I actually wincing for the hand?
But no. There is a definite sense of relief when the hole is finally covered over. Preserved from further bad use.
I decide to go in search of other images of hers. I know this is not my art. This is research. But it can be part of the process. [Ah. Here there is a dialogue. When I say I know, I am saying I know to that internal voice that says This is not your art. That internal voice is masculine (even if it has the tone of my mother's voice) and older and formal and perhaps comes from an unsympathetic schooling.
The I know voice sounds like it's mature and used to dealing with critical assaults. But it is representing (advocating for) a much younger voice -- one of the four-year-olds. The four-year-old is almost crying already. Angry.sad.
Anyway, I go in search of other images of hers.
I wrote: "What they provoke in me is an empathy with the hole: wincing at the intrusion, welcoming the covering over, bracing a little at the sensitive cupping around or below, because it seems to presage some further violation. So here there is empathy for a hole in a tree trunk and that single pale arm has become strongly sexualised -- and unwelcome."
I am not so sure now. Did I get that wrong? The soft hand seems vulnerable in and with the roughly abrasive hole. Was I actually wincing for the hand?
But no. There is a definite sense of relief when the hole is finally covered over. Preserved from further bad use.
I decide to go in search of other images of hers. I know this is not my art. This is research. But it can be part of the process. [Ah. Here there is a dialogue. When I say I know, I am saying I know to that internal voice that says This is not your art. That internal voice is masculine (even if it has the tone of my mother's voice) and older and formal and perhaps comes from an unsympathetic schooling.
The I know voice sounds like it's mature and used to dealing with critical assaults. But it is representing (advocating for) a much younger voice -- one of the four-year-olds. The four-year-old is almost crying already. Angry.sad.
Anyway, I go in search of other images of hers.
Opening 2
She puts her hand into things: stone walls, the ground, branches. These images have a strong effect on me.
They look quite dangerous. There could still be a scorpion down that tree trunk, or a toad in the hole. But it's not that. The images just make me wince.
A voice says, I cannot do this because she has done it already.
But I can experiment. I can see if the feeling of violation or wincing or unpleasant arousal (fingernails on chalk, pale hand in tree) is reproduced when I do the inserting.
They look quite dangerous. There could still be a scorpion down that tree trunk, or a toad in the hole. But it's not that. The images just make me wince.
A voice says, I cannot do this because she has done it already.
But I can experiment. I can see if the feeling of violation or wincing or unpleasant arousal (fingernails on chalk, pale hand in tree) is reproduced when I do the inserting.
Opening 3
I started with a found opening. But not like one of Małgorzata's. In fact, it's more of a closing -- the offshoot branch has reunited with the main stem to create an enclosure. Reminding me that any opening is also a closing.
Mary can come into the opening, at a distance, and that offers framing. But it's a composed kind of thing. Distanced. I am somehow making something of Mary through the whole. Spying perhaps. I think John Berger would have had something interesting to say about it. I haven't. Except that I have not managed to make anything interesting here. And except that I couldn't know that until I saw the image. Through the camera's viewfinder, or whatever it's called these days, it seemed very engaging.
Mary can come into the opening, at a distance, and that offers framing. But it's a composed kind of thing. Distanced. I am somehow making something of Mary through the whole. Spying perhaps. I think John Berger would have had something interesting to say about it. I haven't. Except that I have not managed to make anything interesting here. And except that I couldn't know that until I saw the image. Through the camera's viewfinder, or whatever it's called these days, it seemed very engaging.
Opening 4
So it obviously matters whether you experience the fingers creeping in (first row), or the fingers encircling a thin branch (second row).
The first row seems more intriguing, more exploratory, more tentative. There is some sense of mystery.
The second seems more manipulative, more certain, even though it's a slight holding, not a grasping.
They both seem suggestive to me, interjects a voice from the back of my inner classroom. That's OK Stephen, my inner Miss responds, it's in the nature of art, which imagines one thing as another thing, to suggest. Your inner landscape has been formed by suggestions.
Thanks Miss.
The first row seems more intriguing, more exploratory, more tentative. There is some sense of mystery.
The second seems more manipulative, more certain, even though it's a slight holding, not a grasping.
They both seem suggestive to me, interjects a voice from the back of my inner classroom. That's OK Stephen, my inner Miss responds, it's in the nature of art, which imagines one thing as another thing, to suggest. Your inner landscape has been formed by suggestions.
Thanks Miss.
I definitely prefer the inquisitive fingers to the manipulative ones. Looking at them now. At the time I preferred the feel of the manipulation.
So this is a new learning. I tend to trust the sensation. But, in this case, with this baby.art, I have to wait and look at the representation.
Perhaps it's relevant to books. I am swayed by how much an author enjoyed writing a book. But their sensation of pleasure in writing is immaterial. I ought to know that by now.
So this is a new learning. I tend to trust the sensation. But, in this case, with this baby.art, I have to wait and look at the representation.
Perhaps it's relevant to books. I am swayed by how much an author enjoyed writing a book. But their sensation of pleasure in writing is immaterial. I ought to know that by now.
Opening 5
I am wilting. The thoughts are taking over and the appearance of my fingers in a tree.hole is interesting only for a very limited time.
To be honest, it's not really interesting at all.
Whose voice is that?
It's very credible. I am persuaded immediately that I should stop all this.
I'll just try one thing.
me....
Perhaps I will look awesome in spite of a lifetime's experience to the contrary.
To be honest, it's not really interesting at all.
Whose voice is that?
It's very credible. I am persuaded immediately that I should stop all this.
I'll just try one thing.
me....
Perhaps I will look awesome in spite of a lifetime's experience to the contrary.
Well that is something. Not awesome. But I look rather haunted. Hunted perhaps? Mouth dully open. Dullly? It looks dull anyway. Seen through the opening in the tree, something is enhanced. My mood? My dull?
And then, by mistake, I lose the opening, first partially and then altogether. Actually the haunted.hunted look is nothing to do with a slight opening in the tree. It turns that it's to do with only seeing part of my face. Or to do with my taking pictures of myself. Perhaps it's a kind of self-haunting: I am stealing my own soul at arm's length.
I could ask someone else to take them, but that would be unbearable.
Who do you think you are, asking people to take pictures of you? You do know you're not attractive.
You don't have to be attractive these days. I'm not trying to be attractive. I'm just seeing what happens.
I could ask someone else to take them, but that would be unbearable.
Who do you think you are, asking people to take pictures of you? You do know you're not attractive.
You don't have to be attractive these days. I'm not trying to be attractive. I'm just seeing what happens.
Opening 5
I could put a spidery flower basket on my head. Lots of openings. A reasonable excuse for more pictures of ME.
Opening 6
Oh mon dieu.
Mon père.
Ces yeux. Je le connais n'importe où.
Cette bouche. Je le connais n'importe où.
Je ne l'avais pas vu depuis si longtemps et puis il se tenait là, me regardant fixement. Me regardant hors d'une fracture dans le continuum temporel. Amical. Apparemment, il ne veut rien. Juste percant une membrane pour me saluer.
Je n'ai plus de place pour l'art. J'ai besoin de respirer.
Mon père.
Ces yeux. Je le connais n'importe où.
Cette bouche. Je le connais n'importe où.
Je ne l'avais pas vu depuis si longtemps et puis il se tenait là, me regardant fixement. Me regardant hors d'une fracture dans le continuum temporel. Amical. Apparemment, il ne veut rien. Juste percant une membrane pour me saluer.
Je n'ai plus de place pour l'art. J'ai besoin de respirer.