Wednesday 22 June 2016

Marina Sula, Portfolio text, 2016

The grid is far from being semiotically overloaded - it has been considered void of signifiers, a convenient escapist apparatus evading narration and bias, and at some point even the modernist's mighty bastion against meaning. Thus it's compatibility with the space the originals for the prints have been drawn in, spaces Marc Auge calls a non-place. We don't even think of lingering in them, for they are shaped for us to pass: supermarkets, trains, places of transit, etc. - they are all everything but welcoming and comfortable. Usually featuring aggravating lighting, hard seats, bland decor and the like, some of them, such as airports, patronise us heavily by forcing us to follow their rules to the letter. Needless to say that non-places rather try to suppress than invite emotions.
Being at a non-place, many of us use devices such as mobile phones or tablets, as they offer escape, create a border to our surroundings and occupy us at the same time. Using both simultaneously, a tablet with a sketchbook application to create drawings and a mobile phone for conversations at her frequent train rides, the lines of the grids directly correspond to her feelings at that moment, caused by the telephone conversation she had. Drawing grids only, to me, seems to be another imposition echoing the provisos of non-places. 
Reminiscent of automatic drawing, as far as the process is concerned, the result was much less mysterious as we associate with this practice. At its advent, automatic drawing was for the most part an occult practice. These days we dissect everything in order to extend our already much greater knowledge and prefer a more rational approach and hard facts for the most part. Instead of the `soul´ we examine our brains. Instead of being puzzled by our bodily functions we are digging deeper and try to manipulate them. The romantic, esoteric view of hypnosis is replaced by its clinical usefulness, in addition we now know that it is a state we all slip into several times a day. Mirroring sentiments she might not have expressed to interlocutors but which she most certainly consciously experienced, mixed with outer influences such as people passing, being forced to move or adjust ones position, someone distracting her by making noise and numerous other incidents that had an impact on the outcome, all elements become an aspect, employing the fingers as the medium for the outlet, manifesting on the display, while she transforms into an entity somewhere between mechanical movements and trance.
The tablet's sketchbook application is sophisticated enough to react to the pressure of the finger sweeping over the surface, enabling us to sense the intensity, rhythm and tone of the talk. This finesse is also responsible for ever so slight glitches along some lines, creating visual noise if the line has been drawn with a certain amount of force and speed. 
Having produced over a thousand of such drawings, Marina Sula printed a selection on a bigger scale. Each print actually misses one line, always a very clean and straight one, as she cut it out, which becomes visible only after inspecting the print closely. This adds another dimension and depth the very flat medium of print lacks, and which tablets feature. The huge scale of the prints lets us grasp the infinity a tablet display suggests, we can almost reach into the print. This perceived three-dimensionality allows us to determine if lines are located on top or underneath another one. 
Arranging the drawings at a much later point but identifying the conversations and the day they have happened by means of recognising the emotional state depicted, the titles are equivalent to the date they took place. The body of work is something akin to a diary, but one that has to be deciphered in hindsight. Which leads us to the question if this undertaking could possibly be accurate, for memories are not reliable. But perhaps this just applies for specific details, such as words and everything else falling into the realm of the left brain half. Sentiments seem not only to penetrate spaces they are supposed to keep out of, they apparently also have a way of persisting.


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