The Vortex-Faced Being Speaks
Haseeb Ahmed, Belgium/USA
Andrea Nastac, Bucharest/Romania — Okt 21, 2016
I would expand the Universe by contracting it. I would contract it so that every living organ inside this big organism we call life would become visible and tangible. Think focus. I would make a suggestion about man placed here, in modernism. Think traffic jam. But with a need of an unclogged interface. In modern streets, with modern cards and buses, in his modern home where he is connected to more than a home and a street and a bus, he is, as in Tennessee Williams’s play title, connected to a Street’s Desire, to a Home’s Desire or Bus’s Desire. He wants more than he can desire. He wants more than the power of his desire. He connects in order to gain power to the power of desire. Interconnection desires have multiplied his thoughts, his mind, his heads, giving him the space option to inhabit more than a space at the expense of his real proximity. Connectivity gave him this. Internet gave him this. Mobiles, self-help online quotes, online astrology, others exhibitionisms, selfies. Impressions that have given him the impression of cross boundaries.
The laptop sits on a table in front of a wall. The laptop can no longer represent the mirror of old times, which reflected a vision of yourself in the present moment, but the spy window, one that could reflect an interpretation of you if you choose to record it and give the impression of what could look like a man, but in truth behaves and thinks like Medusa. A little too many heads. And always the head heads in other direction than where it stands. So the head belongs somewhere else. One could talk nowadays of classified heads in the screens, and the rest of the body a cartoon body which would be begged to be pinched so that the thinking could be placed inside it again. Pinch me, so that I know that I am alive. Pinch me, so that I know that I am placed here.
I don’t remember life without globalization. It caught on me when I was 18, when I got my first laptop, but the memory of life before that became undesirable in terms of networking instruments and possibilities. The questions I ask is, knowing that I have gained so much by this – what have I lost? Even in my experiments of diminishing contact with the objects that keep me in contact with the other worlds, the worlds of others, I have become aware of my nothingness in my own space, the space I breathe and sleep and walk on. Of an undesirable vacuum vase that needs infiltrating flowers to feel complete. Losing the sense of being a flower myself. A growing thing that stands in need for roots. In that state of being, the one before the internet, I imagined but I couldn’t give back my own imagination. To whom? To whom so fast?
The mirror has become insufficient, it reflects but one spectator-actor. On the other hand, living without rush or need of rush, one acquires a taste for eternity. Not having to make unlimited choices (clicks by clicks by clicks) creates a predisposition for relief and acceptance. The future expands, say yes, and it expands in terms of time as long as one takes the time to bathe in time. Tea devotees are the great drinkers of modern time. And time is healing as long as you take time. Otherwise you shift into an espresso/expression machine functional as long as you got your ears plugged to the system. I would say not so. Not so fast. In real life, you have to walk.
Nowadays objects act like middlemen for people. Their function is to transport us. I would put the focus back on the object as matter filling space. Giving back space by not taking our time. By not taking our time putting us back on the map of subjective experience of matter. There were times when the Internet made me feel invincible. It does now too. But I need to feel what currency I am trading for. Trading for what. That is why taking time to read is important.
Man Ray had a vivid imagination. He looked forward for the day when he could float a little above the earth and the earth would spin seconds fast till the desired destination would arrive under his feet, and he would land right on it. That would make earth dizzy. Our heads are dizzy.
The dream of Fatboy Slims slogans, right here, right now. What does that mean? In the future, maybe, one measure of extremism would be to take time.
I even imagine a time in the future when the losers and bums would become the great cultivated elite that takes time. Sure, this is a very westernized version vision, but couldn’t help wonder – they, as individuals, relish in written words and street propaganda and the Bible digesting every term in there, charging it with meaning with the setup of a hard earned education by bread. By education I mean the ability to read. I would take time back to when be just started making sense of the words around us, even before, when they didn’t have any sense at all but could count as visual experience, one that was at competition with the adult’s understanding of words. To not be able to read words, take any foreign language that you don’t know for example, gives one a sense of frustration like no other visual art made of signs has given.
This project aims at bringing the focus on words as words, as understanding the meaning of words. Words as visual signs before we could invent the language of mutual understanding. Words as a means for time to decompress on one hand, by not placing a heap of multi-purpose multi-concept multi-responsive act on the part of the viewer, and on the other hand, compressing it, focusing it, by allowing each letter to breathe, each space to mark space.
After this frame presentation, the summary of this project would be to take Instagram into account as a medium to mark a letter each day and a space that in the end would sum up a proposition. In the time allowed for the residence to happen, that would amount to 31 days, if the first of December is included. There will be a blank page, and a single letter, probably in Times New Roman, placed each day – one letter for a calendar day. I do wish to build a sense of irritation by that, or, if left blank (the viewer’s interest), the blank page would relocate a needed space along the clutter, or say, the beautiful clutter of Instagram. The letters would have no stylizations whatsoever, the blank page would be a blank page, its purpose being to accustom internet users to other-holidays.
The proposition would be BARE WITHOUT INFINITIVE TO TIME
31 characters including spaces. As the dictionary says, “The infinitive form of a verb, in English, is the form of the verb used to describe action of a non-finite duration, possibly with the word “to” attached to it, as with “to go”, “to play”, or “to study”. The bare infinitive form of a verb is the same as the infinitive form, only without the word “to”. The infinitive without the marker to (bare-infinitive) is used after the auxiliaries shall, should, will, would, may, might, do, did, can, could, must, need and dare. When dare and need are used as principal verbs, they are followed by the to-infinitive.”
This proposition would mean, in its most colloquial sense, to expose yourself by not taking action, to time. And it’s up to the reader to discover what it would mean to him.
As the project is based on writing, and the letters that come one after another, I think white is a colour good enough to prepare oneself for reading. The black point, that is the sign (but not the name, the only title of the project would be the black dot, no written word) of the project ( . ) is the marker at the end of the proposition, and one that could be taken into account for the proposition or not, as the proposition has no ending mark, revealing its meaning at the end of the residence. Hence, the name of the project will have a name at the end. The headline could be, as well, a blank page, but no words.
My name is Andrea. I come from an isolated vertical peninsula called apartment house, in Bucharest. From there I could see more apartments vis-a-vis, the dusk and the dawn, crows, storks and the great torrents of rain that gathered between buildings. But more I lived in a rain shadow. Under protection but moisty, mildewy. Acquiring words has been a life challenge, as i had problems with expressing and understanding with reason what those words meant or were drawn to mean.
In this sense, I finished the more upbeat choice for lovers of written word university, at the Faculty of Journalism and Communication. It meant colors as opposed to its more static and profound other choice, Literature, that meant a low-pitched childhood comeback in terms of set design. From there on, I worked in fashion as a fashion stylist, travelled the world as a stewardess and finally settled as a graphic designer for more than four years. So with an accent for forms but with a life mission of understanding words and why they do need to have a form, to exist at all.
Meantime. Spent time doing photography. Trying to write. Writing back to people requires one to be more reasonable. Published a couple of poems in local Romanian magazines. Published a concept photo session in the lost in time magazine Omagiu, a collaboration with Mihai Ghiduc. Organized, along with Mihai Ghiduc, Felicia Brighidău, Patricia Popescu and Claudiu Mirescu, Copilărești, street activities that included games of chilhood and youth during Street Delivery 2010. Drawing a figure of speech in Țâțe&Țață’s latest issue. Designing some stuff for Romanian Design Week 2016. Some other stuff, including illustrations of home objects, for the theatre and lots more festival that takes place in apartments, Homemade Culture that is the brainchild of Jean-Lorin Sterian.
Drawings and poems included in the portfolio.
But more time was spent trying to love.