Not Really Really



Worlds are assembled but at a certain point they disintegrate. This is simply the play of two natures, the natural and the artificial. Culture is the combination of completed worlds. There is banality in all of this and my work emerges out of this meeting point of disintegration and its banal afterlife. How can the resulting art speak for itself in such circumstances? Yet I proceed from there.

I am playing a waiting game. Invariably nothing much happens other than combinations of this and that. But I go on, as if fascinated by such a task. Is there a difference between a task and labour? I think that this might be fundamental. Sometimes there is futility at the heart of the endeavor; not another arrangement of parts but with nothing in place that would secure a look. Everything requires a look, or at least that is what I am told. I must admit I have no way of testing such things and I also feel that the experiment might be to simply endure, by which I mean to keep going, to keep working. There are lines in my work but no linear progression, so I think that I am crisscrossing instead. Assembled on a wall or the floor, I await the welling up of stuff. I think of this as welling. Is this what I am waiting for?

When trees are planted along the street, although the essence of each one is natural, they becomes like fake-nature, as far as I am concerned. Conversely, when time goes on, things that used to be artificial seem to combine with nature, for example: an ancient gravestone. It will eventually be covered with moss and stained, and we may not recognise that it is a gravestone the first time we see it. Some objects are always in between the natural and the artificial. Should artificial objects be forced to blend into nature? The body of an object will become ancient, broken and ungly. Then one day, it might become difficult to see the difference between a natural object and an artificial one. In the universe, there might be more than one nature, there might be a second nature, and what about a third and fourth? What makes something feel natural? what makes it feel artificial













































































                                          


                            



                               

























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