In my latest studio newsletter, there's a section called "Exit" where I posted an Esquire Magazine-like series of statements about my experiences of making site-specific temporary installations, like Tumbler, that's now on view in the Speer Gallery at the Shipley School. The magazine section is called, "What I've Learned..." from which I borrowed the format for my version of it. My "What I've Learned..." are reflections on my ongoing project of making temporary installations made up of drawings on large sheets of paper, clear acetate, silver mylar, frosted mylar and, in the past, tracing paper. Tumbler is the third, and largest, iteration of this idea.
The making of Tumbler was different from the previous two because there were people passing through and present in the space where I was working between classes. I had to be more careful than usual about keeping my materials out of the way of students and staff passing by, as well as being aware of being watched, however briefly, while making the piece. I wasn't particularly worried about that aspect, but it did make me a little anxious at times, as working in a public or semi-public space will do. In the end, I channeled that nervous energy into a laser like focus on the work. I learned some new things and am grateful to have had this experience that I can now take and use for the next one.
Without any further delay, here's what I've learned about making site-specific works in public/semi-public spaces, so far...
- I always wind up buying more nails than I really need
- Making unplanned work in public forces action
- Fear creates energy to move ahead with the work
- Having people witness your creative process can be affirming
- Having people witness your creative process feels like electrified nakedness
- Using the drawings in different places and ways always seems to open up new possibilities
- I love manipulating (tearing, folding, creasing...) the drawings from one installation to the next and seeing how they change
- When that weird middle section of the install happens and I want to rush to get past it, I let myself feel the angst, and then take extra long, deep breaths and walk away if need be. Same as when I'm in the studio.
- My palms always get sweaty when it comes to heights, no matter how safe I am
- When people ask questions about what I'm making, it forces me to get better at making good, short answers
- My stomach is in knots the whole time
- Transforming a space through artistic intervention is a great uplifting experience
TM
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