I picked up my piece from the Surface Gallery yesterday. I always sense there is a strange feeling hanging in the air when taking down work at the end of a show. I'm not down about it as such but heavy and quietly contemplating. I had been on such a high when I was doing my performance; it was so immediate and spontaneous, now it feels strange to just be looking at a memory. Time moves on and work comes down…
But I have been excited to spend time looking over the drawings I have made. They seem to tell tales about the evening but also make up their own too. To me each outline represents a moment of contact with a viewer that felt at the time intimate, distant and strange all simultaneously. It was such a strange form of muted contact with another person and made me feel like someone else. I guess it gave me certain control of the situation although restricted my ability to be a part of the scene. I sat separate and anonymous, sometimes ignored, sometimes provoking intrigue, placed right in the centre of the room but contained in a separate space. I'm not sure how the drawings work out of their original context but there is something I really like. Maybe I'm just so deeply involved with the process? I love it when a piece of work surprises and opens up another trail to follow.
