Ανοιχτά 17 Νοεμβρίου - 18 Δεκεμβρίου (μόνο με ραντεβού)
Navin G. Khan Dossos, Brian Dillon, Gary Lachman, Quinn Latimer, Sophia Al Maria, Paula Meehan, Marco Pasi και Mark Pilkington
Επιμέλεια: Pádraic E. Moore & Sofia Stevi
To Ψ είναι το 23ο γράμμα της Ελληνικής αλφάβητου.
Το Ψ είναι μία τρίαινα, το σύμβολο του θεού Ποσειδώνα καθώς επίσης και του πλανήτη Νεύτωνα.
Το Ψ είναι ένας όρος που περιγράφει ένα φάσμα φαινομένων τα οποία αμφισβητούνται από την ορθόδοξη επιστήμη.
Το Ψ, είναι επίσης μία ιδέα που συλλήφθηκε στο Μάαστριχτ τον Δεκέμβριο του 2014 (κάτω από την σκιά της τοιχογραφίας #801: Spiral του Sol LeWitt) και θα ολοκληρωθεί τον Νοέμβριο του 2015 στην Αθήνα.
Είναι δυνατή η μεταφορά της σκέψης μεταξύ δύο ατόμων; Αυτή είναι και η πρωταρχική αναζήτηση της ιδέας Ψ. Eφτά συγγραφείς, οι Brian Dillon, Gary Lachman, Quinn Latimer, Paula Meehan, Sophia Al Maria, Marco Pasi και Mark Pilkington, ανταποκρίθηκαν στο κάλεσμά μας να προσφέρουν ένα κείμενο που εκφράζει μία σημαντική για αυτούς προσωπική ιδέα. Διαβάζοντας αυτή την συλλογή κειμένων, τα περισσότερα φαίνεται να έχουν τις ρίζες τους σε μία μεθοριακή, ονειρική εγκεφαλική κατάσταση. Κάποια άλλα περιγράφουν εικόνες που απασχολούν τον συγγραφέα. Ένα από αυτά εκφράζει το παράδοξο του να έχεις ζήσει μία κατάσταση αλλά να είναι αδύνατον να την περιγράψεις. Τα κείμενα αυτά "μεταφράστηκαν" σαν τοιχογραφίες στο διαμέρισμα της Φωκίδος από την Navine G. Khan-Dossos.
H ιδέα μίας διττής μεταφοράς ήταν και είναι αναπόσπαστο κομμάτι αυτής της έκθεσης, ιδιαίτερα όταν η καλλιτέχνης σκέφτεται το κείμενο του κάθε συγγραφέα, φανταζόμενη σχέσεις που αργότερα θα γίνουν μοτίβα και χρώματα. Σε αυτό το στάδιο της διαδικασίας παίρνει τον ρόλο ίσως ενός μέντιουμ, ενός αγωγού μέσω του οποίου φανερώνονται οι σκέψεις κάποιου άλλου ατόμου. Αν και μέσω αυτής της "διοχέτευσης" η καλλιτεχνική αλφάβητος και ιδιοσυγκρασία της καλλιτέχνιδος επιβάλλονται κατά κάποιο τρόπο στο έργο, παρόλ' αυτά το προκύπτον δημιούργημα έχει παραπάνω από έναν συγγραφείς. Στην ουσία είναι έργο ενός συλλογικού νου ο οποίος δρα σαν μια κυψέλη και αποκαλύπτει εικόνες που δεν είχαν φανερωθεί εώς τώρα αλλά ίσως υπήρχαν πάντα. Άρα οι εικόνες που προκύπτουν από αυτή την διαδικασία είναι μία σύνθεση δύο προσωπικοτήτων, ένας "τρίτος νους". Αυτή η δυναμική μεταξύ παραγωγής και σύλληψης είναι πολύ σημαντική. Μέσω αυτής της ιδέας προσπαθούμε να επινοήσουμε μία κατάσταση στην οποία η υποκειμενικότητα έχει μοιραστεί σε παραπάνω από έναν δημιουργούς και έχει μεταμορφωθεί σε ένα διαπροσωπικό έργο. Ξεπερνώντας την ιδέα του δημιουργού ως μεμονωμένης οντότητας και εστιάζοντας στην πολυφωνία της ομάδας, το Ψ εξετάζει τις συλλογικές διαστάσεις της συνειδητότητας και της δημιουργικότητας. Το γεγονός ότι αυτό που αναφέρουμε ως "δημιουργική διαδικασία" δεν προκύπτει ποτέ απομονωμένα αλλά αντίθετα είναι προϊόν περίπλοκων σχέσεων μεταξύ του καλλιτέχνη, του έργου και του θεατή δημιουργεί και μία αναζήτηση για το τι τελικά είναι η ουσία μίας ομαδικής έκθεσης.
Στην είσοδο του διαμερίσματος της Φωκίδος, ο επισκέπτης βρίσκει μία μικρή έκδοση που περιέχει τα κείμενα όλων τον συγγραφέων καθώς επίσης και ένα κείμενο του Pádraic E Moore. Αυτή η έκδοση λειτουργεί επίσης και σαν χάρτης της έκθεσης. Στο τέλος του Δεκεμβρίου οι τοίχοι θα έχουν βαφτεί και πάλι λευκοί. Η λευκή αυτή μπογιά θα σφραγίσει τις τοιχογραφίες σαν ένα ακόμα κεφάλαιο στην ιστορία ενός παλαιού οικιακού χώρου.
Ευχαριστούμε την Van Eyck Academie για την έκδοση του φυλλαδίου καθώς και την εταιρία Lascaux για την δωρεά των χρωμάτων.
SHOWTIMES: 17 November - 18 December 2015 (by appointment only)
Paintings by Navine G. Khan-Dossos and writings by Brian Dillon, Gary Lachman, Quinn Latimer, Sophia Al Maria, Paula Meehan, Marco Pasi, and Mark Pilkington
Curated by Pádraic E. Moore & Sofia Stevi
Ψ(Psi) is the 23rd letter of the Greek alphabet.
Ψ(Psi) is the trident, a symbol for Poseidon as well as for planet Neptune.
Ψ (Psi) is a term to describe the spectrum of phenomenon contested by orthodox science.
Ψ(Psi) is also a project that was conceived in December, 2014 in Maastricht (under the shade of Sol LeWitt's Wall drawing #801: Spiral) and will materialise in November, 2015 at Fokidos, Athens.
Ψ (Psi) is primarily concerned with the transfer of thoughts from one person's mind to another. Seven writers were invited - Brian Dillon, Gary Lachman, Quinn Latimer, Paula Meehan, Sophia Al Maria, Marco Pasi and Mark Pilkington- and were asked to provide in writing an idea or image that possessed some sort of personal significance. In most cases the contributed writings originate from dreams or liminal states of mind. In other cases the text is more akin to a group of images that preoccupies the contributor; in one instance the ‘scene’ submitted was one the contributor was striving to summon in his mind but seems paradoxically unable to do so. These texts were then interpreted by artist Navine G. Khan-Dossos and translated into gouache paintings directly on Fokidos' walls.
The idea of a dual transfer has been integral in the process, such as the painter considering each writer's work, envisaging and imagining relations that would later become colours and patterns. It is perhaps at this stage in the process that she assumed a role comparable to that of a conduit, through which the thoughts of another are made visible. Through this "channeling" process some of the sensibilities and idiosyncrasies of the artist are inevitably imposed upon the artwork, but the resultant painting is ultimately a work authored by several individuals - in essence a collective mind acting as a hive and revealing images that have never been created but have always existed.
Artworks that emerge from this process might be seen as a synthesis of two personalities; what might be termed a "third mind". This dynamic between authorship and production is central; the project aims to devise a situation in which subjectivity could be shared and transformed into a transpersonal work of art. In going beyond the individual creator and focusing instead upon the polyphonous potential of the group, this explores the collective dimension of consciousness and creativity. Ultimately the endeavour emphasises the fact that what might be termed the "creative process" never occurs in solitude but inherently entails complex communications between artist, artwork and viewer and raises questions in what a group exhibition could be.
Upon entering the Fokidos apartment, a pamphlet containing all the writers' work as well as an essay by Pádraic E Moore will be there as a map to guide the visitor through the exhibition. By the end of December the wall drawings will have been painted over. The layer of white paint will seal the gouache in the walls as another chapter in the apartments' history.
Fokidos would like to thank Van Eyck Academie for providing the printing technology for the production of the pamphlet and Lascaux Colours for generously donating the paint for the murals.
To accompany Fokidos’ inaugural exhibition Paint as You Like and Die Happy!
At the beginning of Henry Miller’s The Colossus of Maroussi, his writings based on a trip to Greece just before World War One, he tells of a certain Betty Ryan who possesses an enviable talent of description, such that her images of this Mediterranean peninsula burn with an impressive immediacy in the author’s mind. So much so that he likens the experience to that of viewing a canvas rendered by an old master. This re-presenting of narrative within narrative, the narrative of painting within a metaphorical painting with words, is a subtle reminder of the daunting task which he is about to undertake, of doing literary justice to a place such as Greece, where metaphor and narrative were supremely developed. With this, he also acknowledges the essential truth that narrative is a construct of human artifice, and that metaphor, key to this, is a relatively recent phenomenon of the human mind. He therefore ends the following section with the pointed reference to our distant relations, the Cro-Magnon, who inhabited the Dordogne region of France around thirty thousand years ago. It would seem that he wishes to impart historical perspective, and to advise on evolutionary specifics; locating intelligence as relative to time, place and necessity.
To reach back to exalted names such as Homer, Heraclitus, Plato and Aristotle, to name but four, is for many to reach back to the founders of Western civilization. When one travels to a place such as Greece one cannot but be aware of the cultural yoke to which one is bound; the historical weight of almost inconceivable creative invention concentrated in one area of the ancient world. Of course the Greek world was a large composite, given that somebody like Heraclitus came from Asia Minor. But however far or near we must travel, it is probable, at least in the West, that ancient Greek culture will have infused so much of how we think. Centripetal and centrifugal, the lines of transit and exchange are vast and unquantifiable, but the predominant shaping has undoubtedly emerged, or at least filtered through Greece and Athens.
Athens itself is built upon an expansive basin valley, the Attic Basin, and if you climb the hill upon which the Acropolis is built, you will have the distinct opportunity to see the farthest reaches of the city, pretty much the whole way around. The ability to survey this sprawl at a single point, one which inhabits six million people, opens to the imagination a Borgesian flood of infinite narrative possibilities. Understanding the ancient history of such a city demands much more by way of evidence, however, and like the surface shapes of an abstract painting, which obviate the legacy of the figurative tradition, the architecture of a modern city buries much of the classical past, revealing only glimpses. It is to the rich silted waters of surviving literature that we turn, in order to bridge a closer understanding of a people, of how they lived and thought.
Upon superficial observation, the juxtaposition of the Acropolis with the concrete mass that is Athens today might be said to contrast classical antiquity with modern pragmatism. It’s as if the philosophical understanding of the ancient Greeks somehow resists the endless march of Roman utility. But the Roman element is here important. Through the highways and byways of the Empire, through its tentacular reach, up towards Britain and Spain, by way of the backbone colossus that is the Danube, culture moved, ideas were exported and imported throughout northern Europe. As Gibbon tells us, the Roman Empire allowed for the franchise to be exported, providing ample opportunity for integration and growth on a grand scale. The practical effect of this was to propagate its reach far in excess of its initial means. This does not, of course, excuse the barbarity and violence by which this was achieved, nor does it excuse the social and cultural subjugation which often results from colonization. But the empire served to oil the cultural cogs of Europe, to impart valuable knowledge and scholarly methodology.
With the move east to Byzantium, after Emperor Constantine and the official conversion of the empire to Christianity, many classical texts were thankfully preserved. But much was ignored, or most likely seen as dangerous to the rise and subsequent hegemony of the Christian monotheistic belief system. It wasn’t until the eleventh century (not discounting Carolingian scholarship) and critically the thirteenth when Thomas Aquinas reconciled Aristotle to Christian theology, that Europe welcomed its past on broader terms. Indeed a great number of the classical texts which we now possess were rediscovered in the late Middle Ages by Latin scholars such as Petrarch and Poggio. How they were not destroyed through the punishing vagaries of time is nothing short of a miracle, especially when one considers the length of some of the works. It was Poggio, for instance, who famously discovered Lucretia’s incendiary De rerum natura lying dormant in a German monastery.
Roman Law was rediscovered and reintroduced in or around the twelfth century with the Justinian Pandects. It is from their political and legal teachings, and by many violent historical turns, that Europe developed its current form of representative democracy. I mention this because we are living through an era in which democracy is going through something of an existential crisis. If from both of these cultures we have inherited so much, isn’t it always a good thing to bring back to them our interpretation of the world, to hold up to their piercing examples so that we may in some way learn from them again? As mentioned, the world Henry Miller inhabited was going through major upheaval, when the technological fulminations of modernity would lead to a war of unprecedented slaughter. Artists were wrestling with this breakdown in traditional order, and figures such as Picasso and Joyce set their work within the armature of classical aesthetics in the hope that they could develop a new language, to in some way articulate the myriad foundations upon which modernity is structured. It is a fitting resolve that we again turn to the teachings of Greek and Roman culture. Especially Greece, when it is facing such uncertain, not to say dangerous times.
