I have been looking at paintings of JF Lauda, in the VS Gallery right now.
He also just had a book made; a well constructed document from hong kong or something -but its title is Aporia.
This was one of my favourite words when I was younger, and have not thought of it much recently. I remember writing it a lot, kind of, or drawing it I guess. Sitting in class in high school filling the margins with its proportions and curves. Meaning aside, I just thought it was an aesthetically great form-for a word-and the meaning wasnt to bad either:
(although I still wouldnt know how to use it in a conversation)
Anyway, looking at his paintings in the gallery, I was thinking of how they were made, as I often do, picturing the artist in a room, generally on his own and making these certain marks and actions.
Today I drove to Cambridge and had sometime to think about it a bit more, but specifically related to being in the world, and the difference between the motions and actions we do all day in comparison with the motions and actions we do while we are making things. The difference between them seems somehow more of a sanctification of space then physically discernible movements. Our gestures are allowed to become more meaningful, because we designate the space to the making of things that mean, which is different from filling up a van with gasoline. But when we do demarcate the space, whether by a door to a studio, or a certain poise that comes from making art in relational or public spheres. Our actions mean more by a simple act, an altered way of being, allows us to imbue objects with more and more meaning. It seems to me that when this demarcation is made, our consciousness is somehow altered, and the space of the physical plane is changed, thinned, the first veil lifted. I think this is why in magical operations, or procedures for casting spells, or whatever you want to call it, it is tradition to draw a circle around the area in which the operation is to occur. It is a certain, and simple way, to modify our everyday consciousness. A momment of demarcation to sanctify space.
What this leaves me with is a certain feeling of Aporia, if i’m using that word correctly. It makes me somehow question the validity of my ideas. Which made me think about this in relation to my last post, and the idea of accidental magic. I suppose that if it is possible for this idea about magic to work, a certain demarcation is needed. Maybe if cannot be just street noise mingled with gibberish and a low hum. The space needs to be sanctified. The consciousness of the doer need be in the right place, and the observers to need to have a certain level of credulity present in their experience of these moments.
I wonder I wonder