Peteskibreen's Blog

For those who have walked this path in 2012 we know that the unexpected is the whole idea, the unexpected serendipity as a hoped for outcome in a controlled place in space and time.   Structuring an artificial liminal space or threshold moments to set the scene for the unexpected for 10 – 15 visual artists has some religious ritual parallels with set orders, liturgy, sensory stimulation, responsive inter human “readings” and final exit moments. On Friday [Nov 30]  14 artists committed themselves to two hours of silent artistic response to a preselected playlist in the Jugglers main gallery space where, as we are seeing, the music and images become only part of the context of this liminal structure of the creative response. Where normally we would fiercely protect our own works on paper and canvas and clay, this event is evolving to be about a co-construction of art works that are birthed by all of us drawing over, painting over even hand on hand over, and where the whole event [captured on video] is itself flowing into a kind of rhythmic composition. A vow of silence with an invitation to engage with each other by written text on scraps of paper is incredibly challenging but this kind of forced retreat from normal interactions and stimulations can open windows into new experiences of group cohesion, arts practice and even personal epiphany. I am quite convinced that the frenetic pace of this digital age and workaholism benefits from this kind of  making time for non-verbal artistic expression within a slowed down controlled space. Friday night had a dynamic to it that apart from showing up the beauty of the personalities [Introvert and Extrovert in Jungian terms] ebbed and flowed in the making and remaking of marks over and over again. Lucy’s wrapping of all us us in a kind of paper towel hug and drawing marks around our feet on the drop sheet became a statement of solidarity and fun while I still had to process the repeated destruction and reconstruction of works I thought needed to be left alone. Why destroy a Damien Kamholtz or Lucks or Mel Davis work? But these artists and all of us seemed caught up in a flow of something greater than a finished personal work. What happened was not earth shatteringly meaningful but it was meaningful. Strongly so. A poem later that night by artist and former Afghan refugee  Sha summed it up beautifully for me:

white silence has spoken 
sparked imagination 
has created sensations
longing continuation