Recycled tissue paper, made into a book consisting of double-fold pages, was perfect for over-writing. The guide lines slipped under each page, and I used a Muji 0.5 gel pen - they come in packs of 6, which is useful for longer writing projects ... one such is languishing because the pen with which I started no longer seems to be made!
The book has 14 sides available for text, and each side takes 10 minutes to fill. I wrote down some rules for this book, including: no paragraph breaks; cross through for mistakes, but don't insert missing words; break words anywhere without hyphens; if text runs out before book is full, start again at the beginning; be aware of posture; try to remember what's been read/written.
This was done over three days, and the writing at the end is much closer-together than it was at the beginning -
What was said of Vija Celmins' work in the
article I was re-writing also applies to the re-writing itself: "[the images Celmins re-uses] ultimately offer a familiar vehicle for interrogating the subtle differences in pencil, in her own mood and in her handling of space." The article goes on to relate that she holds the viewer's interest by evoking infinite depth in her images "and yet they constantly remind the eye of their inescapable flatness." I'm not at all sure how these pages will hold the viewer's interest - through their almost-sameness, through the hope - as the viewer turns each page - that something different will appear? that the hidden secret will be revealed?
The article I copied (and enjoyed reading) is in the Spring 2012 issue of Tate Etc -
More to Meet the Eye, by Katharine Stout. It deals some artists who'll be in the Contemporary Drawings show at Tate Britain, opening 7 May.
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