I was thinking about the answer Justin Carter, who gave our last post-graduate lecture, gave when asked how he felt when he took down or took away his temporary installations. He was interested in
the memory of the work.
He thought some of his works might exist more strongly as a memory or a story than they did when the piece was actually made. This idea re-emerged in the presentations the full time MA Drawing students gave this week as part of the assessment for Unit 1 of the course: ‘the subject is something that isn’t there any more’, ‘drawings that no longer exist’; a film existing not as a work per se but as evidence of something.
I have realised that individual drawings are rarely finished works for me. I am not greatly invested in a single drawing. And I’m already experimenting with animations which extend the drawings and become the work themselves; and with books that will be filmed and then sealed.
So there’s an obvious next step: make my studio drawings into a sealed book.
But as soon as I had that thought, I felt extremely anxious about it. A sealed book could be a metaphor for the trajectory of the Portakabin space over the period of the MA, i.e. a period that will come to an end, and will then exist chiefly in our memories. But the idea of, in effect, destroying all my drawings of it is difficult to contemplate.
Already I’m thinking of ways of sealing a book that might not be irrevocable.