This month I was invited to present at a conference at Parsons New School in New York called Project Anywhere, Art at The Outermost Limits of Location Specificity. I was on a panel called ‘We Are’.
I really enjoyed the other panelists work and the conversations that begun around it. There was a sense of the immaterial in all of our practices, an absence.
The dialogues started here and some of the ideas that are around it will be available in an upcoming publication.
INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCE EXPLORES ART AT THE OUTERMOST LIMITS OF LOCATION SPECIFICITY AT PARSONS NYC.
The Project Anywhere conference (free event to attend) will explore the challenge of producing and disseminating art and research outside traditional circuits. How should art and research that takes place outside traditional contexts and timeframes in the fields of the visual arts, design and performance be validated, experienced and disseminated? What alternatives exist to the traditional role of the curator? How should a...
I attended a 3 day Symposium and exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago on the theme of A Lived Practice, where life is seen as the site of the artwork. It brought together socially engaged practitioners to speak to an audience of artists and art workers. We heard from Beuysian theorists and city farmers, and Ernesto Pujol, my mentor, gave a performatice lecture on 'The Art of Consciousness' that was a truly captivating and evocative experience where they asked "Can a life practice be an art practice? With this fall program of exhibitions, symposium, events, and books, the School of the Art Institute of Chicago explores the role artists can play in shaping the future."
I was cooking rice pudding for a Silent Dinner Party at Elsewhere one evening when an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and love for absent bodies came over me. It gathered in the soles of my feet and, like water running upward encased every bit of my skin and about an inch deep into my muscle. Past my legs, through my torso, filling my arms and wrapping around my neck, it rose to my head where it manifest as a single tear that leap out of my eye quickly and cleanly into the pudding. I kept my head straight and listened for sounds that would suggest that someone saw. No-one did.
It is often the case at a Silent Dinner Party that it is not very quiet at all, and this evening was no exception. A very jovial and theatrical meal was shared between the 15 of us Elsewherians without spoken or written words. As the desert was served, the pudding having been rolled into neat little rice balls, stuffed with almond butter and smothered in chocolate syrup, a stillness came over the group. Eating...