I haven’t seen the Iota table display for Codex yet, but finite space of course and so in those interests the suggestion was for a combined contact card and artist statement in a 4x6ish – inch – size. Which induces the internal flapping about who would want to contact me anyway and who am I to say I’m an artist, much less have a statement. Pft.
That’s the thing of it though, yes, what we do and what we call it or say about it. The words around it all. Obviously writing and printing is important to me, I make the time to do it. Maybe that’s why it seems odd to have a statement about it. What else would I be doing? Like asking someone why they breathe.
It does get the thought wheels turning though, and a discussion with Judi was quite helpful in reframing it as part of a conversation. That someone who looks at my work might have questions, and if I weren’t there what might I want them to know, or how might I answer those questions. Why do I do this? Why letterpress? What motivates me about it all? Also as to the object itself that it might be something for the person who takes it to enjoy and be inspired by. There’s the people who like to go around and collect all the ephemera at a show. There are people who might not be able to afford to buy anything that’s on display.
[In which the artist refers to herself in the third person] (line adapted from that used by Jeff Schwaner)… which I’m still not comfortable with, the third person thing (aren’t we supposed to use ‘I’ statements?) and so I didn’t. Here it is – with extended dance mix version.
I’m inspired by letters both as graphic elements and as containers of meaning.
One of the answers to the Why? Ugh, verging on artese. But it’s true. I mean, have you ever really looked at an ‘a’? or any of the letters? They are (can be) SO beautiful. And so different, in different type faces. You can put them together to make pictures. Or to make words. Or both.
Drawing scares me.
One of the answers to Why letterpress? Drawing makes you vulnerable, and, as someone said, you can’t lie. Not that I want to. Lie that is, but for the moment having my friends the letters to approach the blank page with is a safer way to express my creativity. I know, what’s the difference? Making marks is making marks. I have drawn in the past – and survived – get over yourself and pick up the pen/pencil/charcoal/whatever.
I grew up in a home without a TV.
This may or may not explain some things about me. It does mean I read lots of books as a kid.
Writing helps me find the meanings in life.
Sometimes. Other times I just end up with more questions.
Moving one letter makes words into sword.
The amazing fun of letters! One can make such a difference. (f)ire, wr(e)ath, (p)art, s(t)ing, (d)anger … I could go on and on… anon…
All work is autobiographical, although it isn’t necessarily about me.
Yes, some of my poetry is about or inspired by things that have happened in my life, but who really wants to read about that? Sure there’s the specific, and details make it real, but there’s also the search for the common or universality of the human experience and connecting with others
The lyrics of Guantanamera are based on poetry by Jose Marti.
For those who take the time to read it all, if nothing else they’ve increased their random knowledge nugget store.
I don’t mind people thinking “I could have done that,” about my work, as long as they then go make something themselves.
Seriously. I mean I try to avoid being serious, where possible, so I guess what I mean is I mean this. It’s not snarky at all. That people might be inspired to go make stuff!
It hasn’t quite sunk in that we’re going to be at Codex. I mean in the same building as books like this. Damn Skippy! And I’ll be relief table minder Sunday and Tuesday (yipes, does that mean I have to talk to people?) which is exciting in a vaguely nerve-wracking way but we’re all there because we love and make books, whatever and all the ways that means – that is – what is a book.
As Judi put it so well, when I asked how she was feeling about Codex, “it’s a focal point and somehow puts in relief that fine line between self awareness and self consciousness and that place between grace and awkward where ones breath catches and yet like a recital it is a resting place, a stop, a closure for a particular trajectory, a forced reckoning, what am i doing, why what do i want what do i want out of this … and of course i am anxious and will be, like any good trip, until all the preparation is done and you finally walk out the door and are on your way que sera sera”
Yes. What will be