Acrylic ink on canvas
Photo: Olof Nimar
In just over a year of irregular ambulatory existence, I have had raw linen canvases and white liquid acrylic with me wherever I have been. The constant has been the line. When the hand and pen moves over the canvas with no ambition to be anything but a movement and become a trace, the line becomes the most concrete. The canvases are just as much a time documentation as they are noise – disturbances in the repetition – and encapsulated sounds along a timeline.
In the audio software program I frequently use when I work with sound, a vertical line can be moved over the sound file. It can be moved forward or backward unhindered by natural laws that seemingly allow the time to move only forward linearly.
The traces that arise as consequences of the conditions of the material becomes marks that can be interpreted as codes to be converted into another kind of information when the vertical line sweeps over. Together, the three canvases allow a visualization of months of movements of the hand and the noise of the work process.