Research Catalogue

“Something” still taking from a vignette, with a running time 05:04. A reading by a reader, accompanied by a moving image vignette, features a page-turner, recorded by the recorder. 2022. The introduction to Elle Reynolds' PhD 2024.

A moving image essay in three parts.

In this exposition I invite you to reflect on a part of my artistic research: the screen capture. The aim is to reconsider this little-explored practice by artistically transforming original images through a double variations in post-production. In this artistic research I also use experimental software and unconventional methods to carry out images from videogames. At the same time these methods engage with the European regulations about copyright and American fair use policies. While the extraction of images from three-dimensional, copyright-protected spaces is often restricted, it can sometimes be permitted when used creatively.

Public Positions - looking into the works of MA PPS artists and their Public Spaces. With this new collective online publication, MA PPS curates past and current alumni artistic research processes and practices that encapsulate references and positions of public space discourse. The publication serves as documentation of artists who developed (part of) their research together with the programme, and that shares their valuable contribution to the field of Performing Public Space.

In the last days of June 2024 I learned something I would rather not know. Aware that the act of forgetting is something that often simply happens, I started a daily practice of checking if I could still remember what I would like to forget. The question I found myself asking as time passed and I failed is if the desire to remember is what makes us forget. or In the last days of June 2024, I learned something I would rather not know. Something I wanted to forget. Aware that the act of forgetting is something that often simply happens, I start a daily practice: at the end of each day I sit down, stamp a date on a notebook page and take note: Do I still remember? I write using charcoal, a material that has little permanence. To work with charcoal is to constantly fight its desire to go away. Every night I take the time to see if I can still remember what I would like to forget. I know how to remember, I don’t know how to forget. I do nothing to forget, I simply let time pass and register the presence of this thing I now know. I don’t know how to actively forget, and I choose not to learn ways to do it. I wait for it to happen. As time passed and I failed, I found myself asking if the desire to remember is what makes us forget. I fail over and over again. I still remember.

A dice roll is the very image of randomness. Every day since September 1, 1994, I have rolled a set of six dice, written down the number combinations and collected the numerical material in an ever-growing physical archive. The project is entitled "one and one hundred dice rolls a day". I use this numerical material as a starting point for transformations by translating each number, 1 to 6, into one sign, shape, sound or word, and by creating rules for how these translations will be used further. This method shapes the concrete outcomes and results in series or other forms of progressions and connections. What unites the different sub-projects that stem from the dice roll project is an exploration of the inherent nature of this special material and its potential for form, expression, and visibility, as well as a fascination with the diversity and variations generated, and with results I cannot fully predict. In this exposition, I will describe, make visible, and reflect on the working method, process, and the development of the formal language and expressions that have emerged from this ongoing, and in many ways interconnected, artistic project. The project is seen from a place (that of me, the artist's perspective) and is developed from a point (the dice rolls with dots representing numbers).