Perpendicular Dialogues
Here we are. Let us say Yes to our presence together in Chaos. —John
Cage
History
If one catapults oneself into outer space such that one’s
vision includes the so-called larger picture, it might
be possible to see that most human endeavors are in some
form an attempt to make sense of chaos. The project that
has evolved as Perpendicular Dialogues did not begin
in a void (since that is socially impossible), but did
begin as an open-ended meeting of minds with no particular
agenda other than to make something happen. The result
of this series of conversations between five artists
conducted over 17 months is not perhaps a traditional
collaboration in which the group moved toward one common
goal, so much as a series of individual works that play
off of one another and that have been influenced, shaped,
and changed by the ideas of the others.
Process
In a conversation about writing, John Cage told Joan
Retallack, “You know,
you can always begin anywhere.” It would be possible to locate (map) the
origins of Perpendicular Dialogues in numerous places, but I will place the center
point of my virtual Mercator projection inside Denise Tassin’s head. Rather
than censoring her artistic process, Tassin chose to remove boundaries, allowing
all ideas and materials to become playgrounds for thought. The result is a map
of her imagination and internal thought process. Using objects that range from
sequins and Necco wafers to finger condoms, pills, biology, and current events,
Tassin has created a topographical history that moves from childhood to the present.
Time becomes an object; but her map rather than defining space and boundaries,
opens them to the infinite. She has also projected her drawings/musings into
the bodies of others. Throughout the year, Tassin and the dancers conducted movement
experiments that are incorporated into the visual fabric of the exhibition.
Movement
Woodson imagined a map as a pathway plotted in successional
movements through space, causing her to think linearly
as opposed to gesturally. The sectional nature of her
dancers’ movements occurs as a series of vignettes
loosely based on Tassin’s images, while the influence
of Tassin’s work spurred
her to more completely design the space within which movement takes place. Integrating
the shape and lines of the stage and the gallery with the shapes and lines of
the dancers, space itself becomes a form of action, while the dancers take on
qualities of sculpture and drawing. Through the use of the gallery and via Rueb’s
online presentation of the dancer’s daily travels, aspects of performance
take place outside the confines and the context of the proscenium, such that
audience members must shift their bodies and their attention, creating an expanded
spatial, social, and bodily awareness.
Location
Rueb’s Stomping Ground examines where people move,
juxtaposing Cartesian space and virtual space and the
mapping of choreographed versus everyday movement. Dancers
wearing Global Positioning System devices track their
daily movements as they go to class, visit friends, and
do errands. The maps of their wanderings accumulate on
the gallery walls and on line in an indexical diary that
reveals habit rather than personal narrative and transfers
footsteps taken on solid ground into the space of the
virtual. Rueb also maps the gallery space with an implicit
grid of horizontal and vertical banks of TV monitors, while 12 small cameras
capture the movement occurring within that invisible net(work). Everyone becomes
a performer as both the formalized movement of the dancers and the random movement
of passersby flicker across the screens, breaking down bodies and creating a
new sense of how they move through, fit into and are shaped by space.
Sound
If Rueb looks at the where of movement, Andrew Cole is
dealing with how dancers move, creating sound from
gesture. Movements are no longer a response to sound;
they are one and the same. His is an aural map of the finite space of the individual
body. Because this space/body is in constant motion, its musical map continuously
changes and recreates itself, and the dancers become generators rather than receptors
of music.
Time
In Perpendicular Dialogues, lines between the performative
arts and the visual arts are blurred as dance, sound,
painting, video and drawing all play with permanence
and impermanence. Connections between time and space are revealed through Rueb’s
tracking of bodies in front of the camera lens and Tassin’s capturing of
insects and forest detritus on her sticky paintings. Each catches movement, but
Stomping Ground’s hold on its bodies is fleeting and devoid of physical
contact, while Tassin’s paintings pull objects to them and physically detain
them. But permanence is relative; insects and leaves will eventually decay in
a slow movement of disappearance. Perhaps the difference between technology and
biology is just a matter of time.
Laura Burns
Artist and Director of the Rosenberg Gallery,
Goucher College
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