Arthaus: Spaces and Places

 Arthaus day six:


Can I crash at your place? I'd like a space to crash.

Is there a difference between spaces and places? Should there be? The Mandarin word for space is 'kong jian', and places is 'di fang'. Well, the Chinese only deal with the tangible. 'Kong' is air, but contained 'jian'. So space is basically a bunch of contained air. 'Di' is earth, and 'fang' is a boundary. So place is basically bounded earth. Do we lock ourselves every night in our place? Is this my space because I don't want you in it?

'Kong jian' has a vertical height to it that is undeniable. And 'spaaaaaaace' takes on a horizontality that stretches. 'Di fang' has an earthy feel to it, and 'place' has a definiteness to it. What happens when we bounce it off the corner?

I love the rhythms of the people in NYC. Everyone has an extremely small private space, because it's the city and space has to be shared. It takes a lot to get in the face of people. People are allowed really close to everyone else, because there is an intention to everyone that's so far away. There's a presence to everyone that says, 'All of me can be here, but right now, I'm thinking about the million things I'm about to do.' It's when someone's intention is in front of you, that you really have to watch out. They are taking up space here, now, and if you get too near, they might just swipe your wallet. Since everyone's intention is stretched so thin, so far away, there's actually plenty of space to breath. All that rest of the space? Well I suppose it's made up of dreams.

Spaces in Berlin are a little elastic. I may find myself in a village where everyone spreads out. But people are not opposed to being squished together at the farmer's market and at smaller sidewalks. Everyone is so intensely aware of one another though. Because we're all sharing the same space.

Let's start with materials. Spring, butter and egg. Rebound, melting, cracking and then melting. We can then bring that movement someplace else in the body - in the breath, in the eyes, in the fingers. 

You know the spring at the bottom of an old bed? Not a bed that's old, but a bed in olden times, which spring may or may not be new. The kind of spring that is really difficult to depress because it refuses to yield? The kind of spring that when depressed, really really wants to shoot back up? And then it does, and it bounces, and bounces, and bounces, and if you trap one end of it, it vibrates around the edges in a clockwise direction? That was my kind of spring.

These larval masks are in their larval form, so they're still mold-able. Try them on this way, and upside down, and see what comes up. They are curious. From their breath to their faces to their fingertips. They devote their full attention to their curiosity.

I tried carrying the masks with a sense of rhythm, but it might have been too much. The intensity has to stay, but perhaps with lesser changes. The paper un-crumples slowly, and the twitches are few and far between.

What theme would you like to explore?

My favorite - my asian self against my western self.
Even my masculine side against my feminine side.
What is the speed of life?

What is your artist manifesto?

Art is noticing. Art is saying yes. Art is staying uncomfortable. Art is the keeper of humanity. Art is yelling into the abyss of time. Theater holds a mirror up for us to look and laugh.

Published on
7/22/19 10:25 PM

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