new text

(excerpts from a text called at night, working backwards)


22.

 I keep going or assume that’s what I’m doing and sometimes keep going in slow motion. I come around to an imperative and wonder what I’m doing and did something like this as a child... or think I did. I wonder what I’m doing and this wondering isn’t exclusive. A lot of things are happening in slow motion behind closed doors and Gerard Wajcman’s windows are the other side of the Lacanian Other that doesn’t exist. There’s language and something happening in slow motion. I’m tired and what might be called old age is one end of a trajectory that includes improvisation and a retrospective. The work of art solidifies, and two ends don't meet.


 I went for a walk and passed the scene of past stills and clips, but this zone now seems cut off. Improvisation is floating and timelines are a stiff neck... I don’t know what I’m doing and  don’t what I’m doing!




Christopher Sands, still, 2020



20.

 A new body of work begins with illness in this instance or a new take on lifelong afflictions. 


 I could turn cancer treatment and after effects into a treatise and it just could be in keeping with what sometimes looks like a digital pandemic levelling up.


 I met Ruth during cancer treatment. She had breast cancer, I had prostate cancer and time together is described in the first part of talking house(s). My ears hurt and what can be heard during the pandemic prompts looking and video in quiet places. But having put aside identifications, I’m on my own and on my own could have been a better title here. (the title is at night)



19.

 Lacan recognises different registers and tying up these registers clinically with the sinthome, but identifications persist in and out of psychoanalysis, more than fifty years after deschooling societies. The pandemic and digital worlds level things up in some ways and psychoanalysis begins with expectations and identifications. I say I work with texts and video and sometimes refer to video texts... and painting is one way of loosening up. 


 It’s not enough and the acting out side of performance comes with absent funding or traditional privileges... and it’s not enough to say I do this and that and there are bodies of work. 



Christopher Sands, Ruth, 9,1,2014



13.

 I had some kind of oral history in mind wandering along the beach, making notes nearly forty years ago and the idea extends into texts and video. It extends into acting out or performance mentioned in the third text... repetition casts a spell and the work undoes it with another spell. 


 A spell then has to do with time and a trajectory that's improvised or retrospective... and not one thing or the other. I highlight some passages.



11.

 I remember not wanting to take photos, wrapping them around an idea or taking as many photos as possible of Robyn. Video was then an intervention and the photos and clips came together during my time with Ruth. Sharing anything was later problematic and stills and video seem tied to a text. There are three long texts with stills and stills now take the emphasis away from passages... while video feels squeezed during the pandemic.


 A subjectivity or object-ivity is somehow possible prior to work being linked to a blockchain or something similar.




Christopher Sands, still, 2019


10.

 Something else changed recently and ends with what I’m calling a second disconnect. In a third text (which is made up of four short texts), I refer to an object, comparing it to subjectivity and making use of a placeholder and the word object-ivity. In Lacanian terms, it's not phallic jouissance or the other jouissance and this strange thing is sometimes a disposition or show.


 An art world show is problematic in digital times. There are too many platforms and improvisation is never improvised retroactively. It can’t be done, won’t be done and there’s some resistance when one spectacle leads to another. Museums are already museums and the air is either tepid or not. 


 I began writing in two notebooks, MIT. are offering a six week blockchain course and I'm sitting on an iPhone.



8.

 The art world was full of extravagant objects once upon a time, but things were about to change. I sometimes revise, but leave things as they are eventually and the work is never what it should be and something happens with two versions of a disconnect. The first prompts a text called curatorial dreams and the second puts an end to too much writing. Talking too much ran into writing too much and a trajectory is no longer a body of work... or new work begins with improvisation and retroaction. This work can be unrevised and always was.  



Christopher Sands, still, 2014

© Christopher Sands 2017