Tag Archives: performance

Deerwalk

DEERWALK

(O Regreso Daquele Que Sempre Aquí Esteve)

On the road to Vila Nova de Cerveira, the “land of deer” in northern Portugal, I spotted one of those ‘deer crossing’ road signs. I asked if there were many deer in the area. The reply: hunted to extinction. So story (very, very) abridged, I embarked on a mission to draw the original settler back from exile by way of a 4+km outline of a royal stag over the whole town. After months of walking around the area to gauge the territory (this was in 2003, before Google had mapped the area and before handheld GPS devices were easily available), I realized that the combination of old and modern streets would provide me with all the lines I needed – and much, much more. The drawing itself was described by an unannounced and nocturnal “deerwalk” two years later during the rutting season, for which I wore specially handcrafted ‘hooves’ inspired by traditional Portuguese farmer clogs that stamped a golden ‘deer track’ at every step. The trek was mapped out to start and end at the same spot (i.e. in front of the entrance to the castle, between the two antlers) and was mostly documented by curious passersby.

 

The castle is protected by the antlers of the deer.

The town square is the brain of the deer.

The church is the eye of the deer (looking into the library).

The fountainous garden is the nose of the deer.

The portuguese revolution is the heart of the deer.

The town’s founding father is the (douglas-fir-filled) stomach of the deer.

The art museum was the breakfast of the deer.

The school of art and architecture was the lunch of the deer.

The seat of the local government is the dinner of the deer.

And the hospital is where everybody assumed the deer would end up with badly injured hooves (but didn’t).

 

(This is the design I’m proposing for the (stone) markers that the local government has been intending to install to signal the anatomical bits of the deerscape.)

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With support from the UNESCO, Bienal de Cerveira, Cámara Municipal de Vila Nova de Cerveira, University of California, and Fondo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes (FONCA).

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Deerwalk / Deerscape. (O Regreso Daquele Que Sempre Aqui Esteve)
Photos: Ricardo Abreu, Kiko Silva, Mariana Bacelar, Teresa Lameira, Ilya Noé
Special thanks: Catarina Viana, Jorge Silva, Kiko Silva, Henrique Silva.
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S(c/t)roller

S(C/T)ROLLER

Much more than a mere extension of my artistic practice, or a “tool” with which I “discover” or “apprehend” site, walking is a distinct way I think(and)make. After all, sites as active agents with permeable bodies, not mere backdrops or contexts. Walking, therefore, is a conversation, a reciprocal and simultaneous act of shaping and being shaped, a situated and embodied/enminded way of reading and writing.

Paraphrasing Rousseau, I can only think/make when I walk and/or talk. When I stop, I cease to think/make; I can only attend in dialogue. This is why I decided to build a portable scrolling device able to continuously feed me paper and with which I can track the path I/my eyes/my thoughts travel as I move about. The Scroller allows me to trace (in) a non-linear yet continuous single-line way, without having to lift my pencil or pen or look down to turn the pages of a notebook. The plan is that the next version(s) will have the ability to automatically vary the speed of the paper’s movement based on how fast or slow I go.

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(More soon.)

 In cooperation with Ken Campbell

Photos by Ken Campbell and Alanna Lawley.
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Denk mal… (#1)

DENK MAL… (#1)

Denkmal
noun 1: German for monument.

denk
noun 1: German for thought 2 verbthe imperative of denken, to think.

denk mal (an)
“think about it”.

During my artist residency at HB Berlin, I walked from home to base and back, trying to listen closely and actively to place, attending to the small, the subtle, the unstable and the slow. I set out to make connections at ground level, on foot and on the go, without losing sight of disconnections. I walked alone and alongside; both on my own and assisted by the scroller. During one particular outing with Vera and Hanae, as we were digging for asides and overlooked corners, we encountered an odd and mysterious object embedded in the sidewalk. A metallic frame, too tall to be intended for locking bikes, too awkwardly positioned to hold advertisements. Hanae swung from it, Vera photographed it, I measured and sketched it, we interviewed passersby about it. Now long after learning its original intended use, I’m still being strongly drawn to this menhir-like structure, still making drawings of it, still drawing attention to it and all its possible different uses and meanings. By restoring it and honoring its presence in a more official-ish way, I’m hoping to set it in motion in a way that it remains untranslatable, unknowable and in process; oscillating between the banal and the valuable, fixity and movement, being a relic and a monument.

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Hanae and Vera

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Detail #1

Pre-restoration (detail #1).

Detail #2

Pre-restoration (detail #2).

Detail #3

Pre-restoration (detail #3).

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The internationally recognized ‘Blue Shield’ emblem of the “International Register of Cultural Property” (Article 16 of the 1954 Hague Convention; adopted by the UNESCO).

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Marking originally used in the GDR to mark protected buildings/monuments. Now used in most German states.

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Special thanks: Vera Schöpe, Hanae Utamura, Adrian Brun, Oliver Staadt, Dana Claasen, Laura Jefcoate, Sarah Lüdemann, HomeBase Build IV.
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Zirkel 1.0

Zir·kel (German for compass) is an on-going and open-ended collaborative project with Vanessa Enriquez for which we use the most readily available drawing tool we have: our own bodies.

We experiment with a series of gestural inscriptions and erasures using chalk on blackboards. Each piece entails a sequence of a minimum of three types of circular bodily movements defined by structured decision-making, using a matrix of variables of motion and form. The blackboards allow us not only to construct areas proportional to our own reach and size — a key element in the conceptual structure of the work –, but also to experiment freely and learn from the process through a never-ending response to each other and the material, resulting in a graphical grammar of motion and notation.

Through the exploration of angles, rotations, extents and limitations of our body articulations and positions, we map and superimpose our particularities and differences. Each drawing not only is a fertile ground to study gesture and composition, but also becomes a space of negotiation. In this way, Zirkel acts as a device for measuring, anchoring, navigating and locating.

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In the context of our exhibition at the Embassy of Mexico in Berlin (April 4 – May 11, 2012), Zirkel 1.0 presented five impermanent drawings performed on site, a series of photographs of our first 28 experiments, a stop-motion video documenting our method, and the notation system that will continue to be developed, re-calibrated and adapted as we keep introducing new types of movements into our shared practice.


 

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The Other(‘)Steps

The walker on the left is my dear friend Sara Zimmerman walking down a path while watching a video of me walking down that same path while watching a video of her walking down the same path as she watched a video of me walking down the path…

The walker on the right is me walking down the path as I watched a video of Sara walking down the same path as she watched a video of me walking down the path as I watched a video of her walking down the path…

All while trying to match our steps with the ones on the screen.

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Gifti(n)g

Gifti(n)g

gift noun 1 : something voluntarily given by one person to another without compensation 2 : the German word for poison.

Is there is such a thing as a truly unconditional gift, one which doesn’t emerge from —or generate — a sense of debt? Is a gift genuine only if it’s offered anonymously and without a motivation or expectation of any kind of return (be it a countergift, gratitude, recognition, praise, approval…)? Or is there a way to develop a free-gifting practice that doesn’t demand (the  impossibility of) absolute altruism? 

To explore this question I have been making hundreds of handmade, life-size, realistic-looking and bio-regionally-correct ceramic mushrooms by hand and distributing at undisclosed sites. In other words, sometimes, instead of mushroom picking, I discreetly go “mushroom placing”, so those attentive to their surroundings — or those who simply get lucky — might end up with a one-of-a-kind offering.

 

 

 

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Sporadic Houses

This project consists in the construction of three-dimensional and life-sized edifices using the drawings of archetypal houses I made as a child as my points of reference. So far, 4 different constructions, on 8 occasions and in 5 different countries have been installed.

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SPORADIC HOUSE  #1:

The ‘blueprint’ for the first of the series is a graphite drawing on my dad’s old architecture studio stationary, while the ‘house’ itself is made out of eight stretched canvases.

“Blueprint” for House #1 (ca. 1978)

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SPORADIC HOUSE #2:

For the second house, I opted for whatever organic material was available at each space, given that the blueprint is a collage made out of twigs and dried leaves. I first built it in Venice using mostly pine needles, and then in a diversely vegetated Barcelona park, from where it vanished mysteriously one night. Weeks later we discovered that a family of travellers had taken it because they needed an extra room. My intention was to build it on my own, but everyday dozens of people would come by to offer to help out and so the construction process became a week-long communal action.

“Blueprint” for House #2 (ca. 1980)

Construction process. Venice, Italy

Construction process. Sant Pol de Mar, Barcelona

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SPORADIC HOUSE #3:

“Blueprint” for House #3. (ca. 1979) Sketch my father made while teaching (me?) about perspective and on top of which I traced with a red marker trying to follow his lines.

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SPORADIC HOUSE #4:

The blueprint for the fourth house is an odd case. Generally, a child will first draw a house and then it’s surroundings, but I did exactly the opposite and seem to have decided against coloring it in. Therefore, my material of construction for the aluminum structure, aside from the frame, is space. Walls, roof, door and chimney are made out of the landscape it is located in.

My plan is to take this house on a few hikes and use it as my camping tent.

“Blueprint” for House #3 (ca. 1980)

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With support from CONACULTA , The Banff Centre for the Arts, Museu de Sant Pol + Amics de les Arts.

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Special thanks: Carlos Aguirre, Soledad Arias, Ivan Bercedo, Graciela Blackaller, Jo Bristol, Jordi Folgado, Pilar Gallegos, Ricard Ibernon, Mihalis Kyriazis, Jorge Mestre, Chiara Molon, Eva Noé, Fernando Noé, Cristina Pastó, Perejaume, Marcelino Perelló, Mercedes Perelló, Joan Puigdefábregas, Josep Sauleda, La Tana, Alex Tsiboulski, Luca Ugolini, Valentina Zarco.
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Palimpsests I

PALIMPSESTS

The Work of a Wandering Scribe

 

pa·limp·sest noun from Greek palimpsestos “scraped again”.

1 : a manuscript that has been re-used by first effacing the original text and then writing over it, often more than once. 2 : a collection of archaeological artifacts, ecofacts and materials that come together through accident, natural forces and/or human activity. 3 : a site with a mass of intercut features of different periods.

 

In the early nineties I made my way to New York City to go to art school. Three years later, a combination of circumstances forced me away. The painting project I started on my first day at painting class remains in process – and comprises a substantial chunk of my personal art history and archaeology, though it was only until 2006 that I started documenting it.

The story goes like this: during my time at the School of Visual Arts, I stretched a grand total of 15 large canvases, all of them during the first few weeks. I was so excited to be there, that I would stay at the painting studio almost every day after class until one or two in the morning, place all my canvases around me in a circle as if trying to build myself a room within a room, and paint on them simultaneously, layer after layer, month after month. 

A few semesters later, when they were approximately one inch thick with hardened paint, I decided it was time to move on and start anew. I rolled them up and checked them as my only luggage on what was supposed to be a quick trip back home to Mexico. My intention was to gift them to my parents, but a couple of days after landing, the country’s economy crashed and I couldn’t go back to NY. I also couldn’t let go of those canvases. I re-stretched them and once again rebuilt myself the room within a room (or perhaps at that point it was already a house within a house). 

More than five years went by and I was still obsessively adding layer after layer, each one freer of images and colors than the previous until they were all completely white. Unsure of whether it was the end or the beginning (or both), I grabbed my spatula and started scraping all layers off until all that was left was 11 enormous thinned palimpsests and a box full of paint rocks with easily distinguishable strata. (My mother had “saved” four paintings at an earlier stage.) 

Soon after that I stopped painting, turned to other mediums and strategies, and became one of those pseudo-nomadic artists doing semi-ephemeral and site-specific work (e.g. the House project). 

Around 2001 while spending time in Barcelona, I came across a four page text by Catalan artist Perejaume about (un)painting* that made me want to go back to my brushes, stay put for a while and paint that text in oil. And so in the fall of 2004  I settled down and started copying letter by letter as faithfully as possible —font and all—- on my old palimpsests. It took me 13 months. Afterwards, I did some “geological” studies on some of the paint chips that came off those canvases.

[* “Parcs Interiors. L’Obra de Set Despintors.“]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“These gorgeous paintings are indeed a record of exchanges but not among collectors or loved ones or museum curators. They are a record of Noe’s engagement with herself over time. That is, these works have accompanied her on her perambulations around North America—she has traveled often and at great distance from her Mexican origins—as a cross between companions and chaperones. They have had many, many different surfaces on which she has worked for a decade or more —since undergraduate art school in fact. She always ends up scraping them over and starting again. The current iteration is a freehand-applied text in Catalan by a favorite artist and writer of Noe’s acquaintance. It is a tour de force of manual control and surface effects.” –Renny Pritikin

Palimpsests. The Archaeological Work of a Wandering Scribe. 1992-2006-...
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