Cleaning the office, I’ve come across a pile of papers that I haven’t rooted through for god-only-knows how many months. They’ve reached that moment in their life cycle where I can tell that there is nothing that I will ever need going forward in that heap, but I also feel like I can’t get rid of them. I crammed them all into the file drawer that I never open, in the hopes of…what? Their eventual disappearance? An intrepid archivist? I have no idea, but I do know that just having them sit around on the surface of my desk constituted a psychic weight that I could no longer support.
Because of something I heard in a podcast today I ended up looking through this site on my phone this morning as I came over the bridge. I liked what I saw, and thought: this gives me more hope for continuing (or more aptly reviving) my blogging. I’m under few illusions: these actions are happening because I have more time available to myself during the holiday break from school ,and as such can begin to gather my splintered efforts, but even so. There was something about the pleasant format of the site on the phone that made me think about filling that space again.
Much of my impulse to art making comes from that: emptiness, the pleasure of filling a space in a particular way. And it’s hard to make new work when there is no place for it to be, I need empty walls, empty desks to prod me to make something new. When someone proposes a show to me, I need to see the space before I can really figure out what I’m going to do. And online that is so much more difficult, because space is at once infinite and yet undifferentiated, meaning that it’s hard for me to anticipate claiming.