Quantity and time are forms of material. The time invested, the meanings that get erased in the mass. The quantity and the notion of time becomes a distortion. In my art, I am constantly seeking ways to distort the material, medium or concept that I am working with. I use text as a drawing, where the flood of text erases its semiotic meaning and leaves little behind except for the image embedded within. I make sculptures of drawings. Overflowing drawings that never make it up to a wall or into a frame become preservative bales that not only consist of the drawings, but also the awareness of the massive work and time that has been put into them. In that way the quantity becomes a material - the quantity of words, the paper, the pigmented fluids seeping into them. The knowledge of time, the knowledge of action, these things become materials as important as those that you can physically touch. I am interested in the preconceptions and biases we so easily accept; how things should be, how they should be perceived and how a little distortion can completely overturn them. My art reaches its climax in the studio. After that it becomes insignificant. I stamp on it, tear it up or throw it away. The drawings become raw material for a sculpture or an installation. All the written words, my obsessive, automatic thoughts on paper, the play with ink and water, on the paper, changing nuance, half with precise intention, half by accident, all that, becomes insignificant in the final image.
The meaning gets erased in the mass, it becomes a fragment of a bigger context or perhaps just evidence of a productive artist. The compulsive work is to some extent a justification for being an artist. A pat on the back for being a “good” artist, productive. But it is also like body fluids or the residue of an artist, something which must come out. And then, what to do with it, once out? Seeing time in that way is for me a little like listening to silence for 4 minutes and 33 seconds, it is there, yet not.