This is a text I wrote for insitu gallery, for their group show »Framework 1: extrasensory bonds«. The text was on display during the exhibition. Additionally, we arranged to a do a card-reading session on Sat 28 June, 2014.
In November 2012, I was reading a book about Eva Hesse. She was saying how making art is so easy for her, while everything else in life is hard. I haven't suffered as she did, but could nevertheless relate with her sentiment.
Later that year, I was spending New Year with friends, and we were doing some ad hoc fortune-telling for a divorcee. I told everyone about my card-reading habit, something that I've done as long as I can remember, without thinking about it too much.
And then it dawned to me. Making art is the same as fortune-telling. It's me wanting us to believe. Or you wanting me to be right.
Now that I think about Eva Hesse's dictum again, I find it hard to digest. Sure, it's true on a very superficial way, since art can be whatever, anything goes. But what makes creating art works painstakingly hard is the quest for their raison d'être.
I don't have any basis for making the things I do. I'm addicted to doing works that are as easy to do as possible. I don't see any reason to build more than is necessary for art to happen. Dedication, longevity, reliability, cohesion; empty words.
The card-reading for me is already very elaborate, with the 52-card deck, formalities, and everything. I also love doing it, for now. It puts us in unexpected situations, where you and I might end up saying or feeling something real.
I'd like to think relational aesthetics happened because everyone realised you don't need the art objects as an excuse to hang out with other people. We left the works out of the equation and started to call our social life our work(s).
Lastly, I can't imagine flying to Berlin for reading cards. Video call works perfectly well, or maybe just having someone else doing it. Maybe it's a doomed idea. Maybe I can't out-smart being there. But if you're there, we'll see.
Fact: I almost puked when I finished this text, for no particular reason.
2 June 2014, Finland
image courtesy of insitu e.V.