The line spirals like wire, objects; motifs; As, Bs and Cs. Where do I exist? In this line, or that on? In this one, or that one?
This one, or that one, this one, or that one, this one or that one this one orthatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonthatonethisonethatonethisonethatone thatonethisonethatone
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thisonethatonethisonethatonethisonthatonethisonethat
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thisonthatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisone
thisonthatonethisonethatone
thisonethatonethisonethatonethisonthatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatone
thisonthatonethisone
thisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatone
thisonthatonethisonethatonethisonethatone
thisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatone
thisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatone
thisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatone
thisonethatonethisonethatonethisonethatone
‘The redoubling provides an experience of the singular and the originary, a vision of one’s unified body. But that body is gazed upon by a single Cyclopean eye: one that never reads the books, and through a single hearing makes all sorts of mistakes.’ (Engh 1994:131).
Nancy states that ‘drawing evokes more the gesture of drawing than the traced figure’ (2013:1), and in essence, that is what my line is: a living, breathing gesture, not a captured object.
(So, what then?
How to narrate me; take ownership of me?
If I double over and contort; squeeze my eyes shut; spin;
draw myself a thousand times, can I own this feeling?
Can I express; visualise; depict myself, on my own terms?)
In her essay ‘Towards a Feminism of the Void’, Nina Power considers the unstable position that women occupy in which they are neither subjects nor objects. Power states that to ‘think from the standpoint of the VOID [...] is to begin from what looks like incompleteness but which is fully real’ (2017:111). She proposes we embrace that position; ‘the space in-between, all the non-things that cannot be seen’, asking ‘…could we see and think from there?’ (ibid).
To think from the concept of nothingness. Of course, that is abstract; unknown; often frightening. Since the incident at the age of nineteen where I stood poised to plunge with the pen, and have gone to do so again, I have often found myself unmoored, wandering a vast plain of the unknown. Space stretches before me; vast, echoing; unchartered. Where do I go?
That is, for me, where line comes in. It resembles, visually speaking, what it says on the tin: an abstracted, wire-like line that formulates shapes both textual and pictorial. A stark, graphic line trawls boldly and unapologetically forward, exploring space. It flows freely between text and image, shaping letters, question marks, fragmented body parts peering both in and out. It is bodily, but I do not attempt to draw my whole body. Instead, I draw and write hints of it: what it feels to live in it, how it feels to look from it. Line, as a methodology, is both autographic and a means of concealment. You will read what I give you, and only what I give you. This is escapist, to a degree: for, in the real world (outside of making artwork) I do not hold the same sway in how I am read and inscribed. Line allows me time away from that reality.
Jean-Luc Nancy refers to the role of drawing as a beginning, a preparatory sketch, which ‘indicates the figure’s essential incompleteness’ (2013:1). Incompleteness, surely, is something the feminized subject is perceived as embodying: that which does not own; that which is unstable; that which lacks (Freud 1989:674). It is that which renders line such a compatible tool to work through the vast plain of nothing; to unfold; for it itself is forever unfolding; is a gestural power charged with the unknowable. Line embraces its lack as burgeoning potential and harnesses that as means to evade.
So poise, with the pen, and -
HERE WE GO! When I venture through the nothingness,
I am led by a wire-like line which does not knit obediently into a recognisable body; rather,
it burgeons with ongoing potential.
To do that, it is firstly necessary to think from an alternative standpoint. Years ago, in my panic, I mapped my narration of selfhood onto the physical matter of a body because I feared the alternative: the unknown (or, perhaps more immediately at the time, the fear that I would approach with the delineating pen and, under pressure, find myself able to depict NOTHING). NOTHING as a concept is crucial descriptor here. What, at that time, was wrong with NOTHING? Why was it an inevitable and feared alternative to a mapped, bodily self; one drawn to signify me and yet wasn’t me? What if I were to embrace the prospect of NOTHING, to throw the whole thing out; clear the bench; brush away and burn the crushed scraps of rejected paper that had so far fallen short?
To draw and write myself into being, but with all manner of disguises in place.
To consider a deceptive, playful way of inserting myself within the world in which my Whole Self was not fully represented for your pleasure.
