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So… you want some words ? You want an ‘artist statement’? I abandoned philosophy to get away from words. Words confuse us. Words give an illusion of objectivity, whilst deriving their meanings exclusively from subjective experience. Just because we’ve established rigorous social protocols for the creation … Read More
So… you want some words ? You want an ‘artist statement’? I abandoned philosophy to get away from words. Words confuse us. Words give an illusion of objectivity, whilst deriving their meanings exclusively from subjective experience. Just because we’ve established rigorous social protocols for the creation of subjective experiences in children that have enough in common that, for practical purposes, we can work together pretty well by making the right noises, or drawing the right lines for each other, doesn’t mean that language is genuinely shared. Not that I think Art yields truth, it’s just more honest in its approach. I can do words… I do words too much, too easily. Lately I have begun to use words as plastic material for my work. I don’t want to speak with words, I want to create sensual experiences. I use words as objects, as a reminder of what they always were. Words have done a fine job artificially distinguishing themselves by talking about each other constantly. Whilst, in fact, all experiences are sensual, words have a way of making us retreat from the immediate into a self-centered state of contemplation. For those of us who fall prey to the darker nature of language, the world is so much more interesting, or at least so much more useful to contemplate than the inner workings of our computing machinery. I do not speak to everyone, I speak to those who, like me, spend too much time thinking and not enough doing.

The material world of objects is where things actually happen. I don’t renounce words altogether; I only yearn to live closer to immediate experience; I have noticed that when I do, I feel a deeper, more sustainable kind of joy. I want to put words in their place, to dethrone them and install a republic of presence. Words may be one of the things life has to offer, but all things must pass through this, here, now. I want this. This is magical. This is amazing. This is a constant reminder that being alive is a fucking miracle of chance – that the world is beauty and that squandering the picosecond of consciousness I exist in on repeated introspections, questionings, analyses, is often a terrible waste. This allows me to take risks, this is safe precisely because it is limited. This is the recognition of death as a constant possibility, but also a constant reminder that I’m not dead yet. So long as I’m not dead, all is well – this means all is well. Descartes was wrong, far too long-winded. I replace his maxim, cutting it short: “I am” will do just fine – or “This”, or “I”. The rest is flirtatious finery.

So if I speak to you about my work, what words I put into it whilst I’m making it, won’t I destroy the whole point of attempting to speak to you with matter, wanting to address you in the immediate rather than the analytical?

You want words?
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P.S. I do tend to be garrulous, in spite of myself: I'm trying to quit, but I'm far from successful - so if you do want words you'll find them in my projects. Read Less
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