Line and Wall
The blank wall is a gift. I try to begin work at the site empty of ideas, in order to be open to what thoughts may arise there. Developing the ideas directly on the wall is more interesting to me than transferring them from a small sketch: I can see the changes in actual scale, instantly. The process is unsettling. Many drawing solutions become visible over the course of my time spent onsite, though inevitably I leave the room with just one. This final outcome is always something I didn’t anticipate.
I think of the line as being flung out into space to negotiate the unknown. Even as the blue tape lines physically adhere, they are the most “unfastened”: ephemeral as a throw-away medium, physically removable, and of a blue that visually hovers over the surface or seemingly pushing through it. I begin placing the lines to mark out visual footholds for an ongoing mental travel—travel that suggests both freedom and belonging in the space. In these sites, the architecture of the room is fixed, but the mind wanders within it. This is how we develop a sense of home, of place. In my home, I travel.
For me, drawing starts with the problem of the line, how to form it and how to follow it. It ends with the line, too. Line keeps its independence, is searching, and never completely absorbed by the community of its fellows.