ANT v ART
ANT v ART is a collaborative writing/drawing project between London born arts writer Altair Roelants and Vancouver artist Angela Gooliaff.
ANT v ART subverts the language of contemporary art criticism by reappropriating its terms of address through a two-way writing and drawing exchange (v) between critic (ART) and artist (ANT). This is conducted via a correspondence played out in the postal system rather than using the much socially preferred speed of digital communication.
The below text is in response to Observation #3’s drawing.
ANT V ART
A postcard, a drawn outline, a glimpse of my view – revealing some visual clue about the place I sit, the place I write from, the place I am.
I hadn’t really thought about it before, beyond adding some local paraphernalia to my response but since your last correspondence I have been considering this view – my daily view captured on this postcard – as one of many periphery ‘views’ to my writing. And I’m meaning view in the broadest sense – not necessarily visually ordained but a pattern or routine, a sound or something around you that may only register faintly or not at all. I have since left this view and have been travelling often, so I have come to contemplate all these periphery ‘views’ at various places of writing. Some I made note of – a café out the back of an old Auckland city building, a sweltering garden terrace overlooking the Cook Strait, an object cladded light filled room, an anonymous aeroplane tray-table, and now, a small terrace next to the Aveyron river where old men are drinking espresso and bantering in the reluctant spring sunshine – and others have long faded away. Nevertheless, it would seem they are piling up…somewhere.
I suppose then, these periphery ‘views’ must have some bearing on what I write? Even when that writing is about something else, about art for instance. Falling into the sentences and leaving their fingerprints on the words somewhere – gently sometimes, unnoticed, or landing with written force. Or course other things jar against them, blurring their edges, so they slide in and out of focus as I slip past – like a slide show where some images are repeated for old times sake or get stuck and jump in the reel.
I don’t think we really notice these little fissures in writing about art, these periphery ‘views’. I suppose the writer does not guide us to them, it’s often not needed or maybe it doesn’t have a place in arts writing? But don’t those periphery ‘views’ inform ones subjective response and perception? Offer us a richer palette of words to choose from? Ones that are harnessed in real, lived, human experience? Trickling into the colours we might notice, the concepts that resonate, the certain textures a piece of ceramics evokes, the rhythms repetitive graphite lines remind us of, ones that we feel compelled to recall, to get down on paper.
So, dear ANT, I was wondering about your periphery ‘views’ – those that may leave traces in your art. Not the direct ‘views’, those things that you may talk about, record or use with intention, but those unconsidered views – the mundane view from your window, the collection of pots on a shelf, the daily journeys and rituals, the well worn spaces, the habitual movement from one place to the next – the unfiltered periphery ‘views’ that leave something, somewhere if you look for it and try to pick it up.
As always, please draw and respond, as you will.
Copyright © 2015 Altair Roelants
To read the text and article about the ideas behind Altair’s observation no. 3, please visit her website by clicking here.