I have come to the opinion that a certain amount of forgetfulness comes from living in the moment. I have a friend who can sometimes come across a bit of a flake. She’s responsible, intelligent, thoughtful, and has a great sense of time, but it sometimes seems like her memory is on the fritz or she didn’t listen or something. That’s not the case. This woman has an amazing capacity to live in the moment. I can’t help but conclude that one has to do with the other.
I, myself, usually have a remarkable ability to remember things. I’m constantly analyzing, processing, speculating, accessing, and making cognizant observations. On the other hand, sometimes I’ll find a piece of writing or a sketch and I know that I did it, but have absolutely no memory of it whatsoever. This video piece, for instance... I was looking for a different video file and came across it. I do know that the footage is from Ireland last July and Rye Beach (NH) last year’s Labor Day. Taking the date of the file into consideration I assume this is what I cut together to test which editing software to get. I honestly, have no memory of editing the piece together. I can tell I did though; it has some of my trademarks… looking down at my feet, light and shadow, and play with frame speed.
It’s not the greatest or most cohesive thing in the world, but I can see what I was trying to do. These little moments of forgetfulness are precious. I get to see myself slightly, from the outside.
I’ve always thought I took an intellectual approach to art, but I feel inclined to alter this thesis. Intent appears to be the extent of acuminous labor in my process. I could never discuss my method of how I get from onset to conclusion. I have a notion of my technique; it’s a point of view thing. I however have no idea how to define my approach. The paint makes it onto the canvas in no particular manner (outside of with a brush). This is a liberating understanding.
Beautiful!
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