ONDUITS Circuity of critical perspective. Thoughts on Paper, Hazards and other Hypothetical Matters by Derek Brunen Both art and life (the distinctions, for me, are impossible) are laden with the potential mishappenings of the world. Personal histories, issues, Movements, concepts, content aside, if noth- ing else, art is always in direct relationship with matters that escape us. I don’t know about anyone else but I’m not able to predict accidents because, of course, that’s their nature - unpredictability, indeterminacy. Certainly though, our habits teach us much in the ways of avoidance. I never know when to say, ‘no’. At what instance does one comprehend too much? When do we start coming apart at the seams? What is the extent of the body? Where does perception end? Can chance and hazard, danger and risk, be any- thing but physical matters? Say... a late object, a passerby, a moment of distraction, synaptic surplus, a finger or more moving along a path, a course colliding with a stationary blade spin- ning at a high ratio, a precise axis, an incisive edge, qualities combined and designed to separate the unconscious limb. ‘A body, a blade, two very different sets of information, two very different speeds, both capable of exerting control over the other. Or, maybe a substance more insidious? Chemicals floating in the dark, inadvertently drawn through pas- sages, toward cavities fixed on process and distribution, chemicals caught in the traffic of the body, clogging and suf- focating on a molecular level. Hours, days later, somewhere in the near future, something becomes impossible to rec- ollect. I really don’t know that much about photography but I do believe that images cannot be made without effect. How about toxins and solvents stored in the forms and fissures of obsolescing identities, unwilling trans- ference through the slight of a print rubbing an eye, purifying and blinding. Unanticipated pressures contained, flu- ids charging, exploding, unfolding, fractalling, stopped and slowed by particularly sensitive surfaces. Memory splashed, precisely imposed, altering the depth and purposeful composition of protective layers. Skin can be unfor- giving. Life does, on many levels, burn and recompose. The indiscriminate madness of oils and coatings prepared to withstand the weather of time, seeping in through the unconscious, infiltrating the mechanisms of our behaviour, superseding our reactions, convincing us that all is not normal and that, once and for all, what really matters is a meaning of matter. A question of applied force. Painting cannot exist on a single plane. It is a prac- tice of vertiginous connection. Or what are the risks of someone late for work, school, an appointed moment and you stand- ing, waiting. The light changes, one is late, one is waiting, neither are aware. Why one object in a par- ticular time/space and not another? So many differ- ent directions, speeds, perspectives, forces holding things together, tearing them apart, the potential for convergence, the possibilities for ‘disaster’ become countless in the crosswalk. Consider a glance on the bus, across the street, down the hall, in a store, maybe a smile? You see this someone, you see a connection, you’re attracted, you never speak, you think you know them but you wonder about their lives and you begin contemplating how they might fit into yours. You start constructing ideal situations, living arrangements, schedules and before you’re aware, a haunting takes hold and you find yourself romantic. You find yourself hopeless and without means for actual contact without disappointment. You find yourself lonely. And what if you were to discover yourself with a partner at the end of a period passed, a span of possible years less spent than savoured and saved. Times of eyes to the ground, hating your fear and conscious ignorance, resenting disaffection until, by some chance, out of that blue, your path to where ever it was you were leading, that cut that you were making, is interrupted, pushed and pulled by forces of other direction. Strange forces, lost them- selves, perhaps, rightfully revealing a paradox of insecurity and self-deceit, revealing the falsity and lies that inhabit truth. Strangeness grabs you by the hand and leads you over the walls that you couldn’t see. People talk about self-sacrifice, but is it possible to create without sacrificing concentration or contempla- tion? What level of awareness or presence is possible before reflexivity begins to breakdown and we become over- whelmed? Before paranoia, panic and paralysis set in? All probabilities we’re never sure what to do with because they insist on themselves, states bent on capture and control, fearing an escape of the slightest mistake. Perpetual vacu- ums, perpetuations of the same. And perhaps this escalates and your obsessions scatter and multiply. You begin to suspect in the back- ground that you’ve been eating junk sporadically, you haven’t done laundry in months, shaved in weeks, washed in days and you’re living in a degree of dust, dirt and debris that you’ve never experienced before. Things have gotten out of your hand and your old self peaks out in horror. ‘Where are you going? What are you doing?’, they whisper. Someone in the future replies, pointing out shifting desires and processes incomplete, assuring them that you are growing and convincing them that the limits of one’s comprehension are temporary. They tell you to forget about yourself, that things work outward, and they remind you that you are both living and dying and that you, within time, are passing. The intent here is not to instill fear but rather to distill it, and to turn it into something useful. The intent is to make the best of the situa- tion, to do all that we can with all that we have with whatever is at hand for where there is a will, there are many ways. The intent is that we stop predict- ing accidents and start devising our own because hopelessness lies only obsessed with possession in thoughts of security. photography by Julie Gendron _ These are just thoughts. Influx: Magazine March 1999 15 GCONDULTS Circulty of critical perspective, Thoughts on Paper, Hazards and other Hypothetical Matters by Derek Brunen Bot hart and life (he distinctions, for ‘me, are impossible) are laden with the poteatial . rishappenings of the world, Personal histories, . Sues, movements, concepts, content sie, noth > ing cle, artis always in direct relationship with, smatiers that escape us T dont know abot anyone ee but F'n ee Sh hci ane unpredicablig, ndeerninaey Cory thug our habs ech ich He ofan Toor Row hes ag, AL wha Ieuanee does one coped oo sch” When Sie? Wiese Ca cance and baad danger at le be any ‘Mog bor psc mater? Bast objet pet a noment Cpa ee Sing a ih os preteen aie es, qi coined and deg to spate he tncoecos ah op a Sa ee eee tee (Opin ses elon? Cheica fing a te drs nner dren roa Px sso toward cfd on proc sd Gabon, iia cng the a he bly, ogig te ‘ening ons oleclarlve Hous aya somewhere nner something become ion = tle realy dot now tat mach bo ploy bat do blew tinge rot be ade waa fc iy shot ei al whe scel he rene ers obec ec, orig EES Se Ses ee ee [er charging cploang sibling, Hacaing oped sol slowed by pect secoie ace" Mory thc pac ptt aerin dep pepo competion of pros lyes Sn ca bei ‘rig. Ts dos on any bmn compen "Te ncn mac of fs sd cnn prpered wo witha the ener of serpin ia though he tcinei nig te chains fo Sauron, apeneting oo xcs conning tat ‘soc normal od ta once and for aly wat ely mates a mang of mater. A querion of apd fe: Taintng cot cit onal pane, ik pase Se of rgnow comes pene ear etree ae sor, school tn appt moment en ou sd sing akc arte. Why oo bet oa par txt ceconn spent, penpctne, foes hang thing og, ring hr apr pote fot comps, te peetlisnf ‘dee boxame Sees Coser spac on te bt te sre don tbh var js You fe ths someone you se ¢ cme, Jue trace, you Ree ah 7 tak yu Bow Shem bet Jou wonder abou te er and 908 » a ee Sou srt consrucing ical sation, ing eee ting ites hd and ou Sd youre rman: You Sad youre boplas td witout mea for acl contact tout dinppoaiment. Yea fod youn ney {Aad wharify0a wert acon youre ih a parr a he cd of eo pated pan f pone yes apn std ad aes Pees of eet he tod ng oar arr commel rnc, See ee ee ‘Sttha you wee malign eraped ped and pulled by fr of ter esion. "Sage ot them: ‘Shen pep, Henly rang pers of avery eee, evaling the ay td er hat nha ‘rah Srngtcs gs you bythe and ad ead ou oer th wal ht you use Trop tlt dat lfacic te pol t cone wit secon conenrea or eaten Sou? What ceo waren or proces pone before cesy Beet ean and we Beste oe bchond? Bes prt pei ot pr cts? Al pebbles wo eer ec wba da Wi ecm oy Ton themche ses Seton cpr nd conte abg an cape of est mie” Pepa yc tm, prpetnio ofthe same CE ei sound that youve been eng fk poral, you hae" done laundry in monty haved neck watbed in asec re ater ee eee ee tio eyo ee ed ye ev peat turer “Whassup Wis eu og? tay arp: Seconein the fre eps pining ot tng desis tad proce comple sing them tha your proving uel covaring them ta te tis ofeoctcamprtcnce atopy Tey tc you to frge abot youre hat hing work turvar end they remind yo that ou both in and dying an at Jo, wine, ae punte “The intent here is nt to instil fae but rather to distil and 0 tum st into something ‘ef, The intent i to make the best ofthe site tion; todo al that we can with all that we have with Whatever is at hand for where thre isa will dhere fre many way. The intent is that we stop prdict- fing accidents and start devising our own because hopelessness lies only obxested with poscsion in ‘thoughts of secur ‘These are jst thought Influx Magazine March1999 15,