Fascia
Lines
Laurie Kang & Katie Lyle
Projet Pangée, Montreal
August 30 to October 6, 2018
Text: Daniella Sanader
“Laurie, Katie—
Lately, I’ve been speaking with you both about
how you tend to work on the floor. That is, you’re making images horizontally;
with your eyes turned downwards and a curve in each of your spines. Katie, I
can picture you sitting with pieces of loose canvas, legs extended in what’s
almost a ninety-degree angle, adding new layers in paint. Laurie, perhaps
you’re crouched or kneeling, treading back and forth around a large piece of
photographic paper, spilling and spreading darkroom chemicals in wide arcs. As
for me, I’m cross-legged on the carpet, laptop balanced on my thighs, some
extra notes and papers near my left elbow. My right foot is falling asleep.
What remains in your bodies after a long day of
work in the studio? Of course, there’s no start or end to this—to your work or
mine. Do you know this idea of the “small dance,” from the choreographer Steve
Paxton? It’s the dynamics of alignment and flow we enact in our bodies, even in
moments of so-called perfect stillness. We’re in a constant state of adjustment
and balancing; an infinite micro-choreography. So, when you’re working in the
studio, when you’re biking around the city, when you’re sleeping, when you’re reading,
when you’re eating—these movements aren’t distinct, but continuous, connective.
They stretch, bend, and contract, they constitute one another—it’s an ongoing
dance.
Laurie, Katie—how do your floors support you,
what postures do they prompt? What kinds of images get made in that proximity,
that curving-over, that encircling of arms and legs? I feel a sense of
ongoingness in your respective practices—they are filled with gestures that are
never finished. More layers are to be cut out and worked through, new tones
will emerge under reactive chemicals and light. There are new support systems
to stretch and fold across; new skeletons for new skins.
I’ve gotten up from the floor—I took a break to
stand in my kitchen and chop some vegetables. Now I’m sitting at a desk, left
leg crossed over the right. I’m taking notes about fascia and touch; I feel a
slight stiffness in the back of my neck. Laurie and Katie: all this time, I’ve
been carrying our conversations in each of my postures and I know there’s more to
come.
Talk soon, xo
Daniella”
View full PDF of Daniella Sanader's text
here
Fascia
Lines
Laurie Kang & Katie Lyle
Projet Pangée, Montreal
August 30 to October 6, 2018
Text: Daniella Sanader
“Laurie, Katie—
Lately, I’ve been speaking with you both about
how you tend to work on the floor. That is, you’re making images horizontally;
with your eyes turned downwards and a curve in each of your spines. Katie, I
can picture you sitting with pieces of loose canvas, legs extended in what’s
almost a ninety-degree angle, adding new layers in paint. Laurie, perhaps
you’re crouched or kneeling, treading back and forth around a large piece of
photographic paper, spilling and spreading darkroom chemicals in wide arcs. As
for me, I’m cross-legged on the carpet, laptop balanced on my thighs, some
extra notes and papers near my left elbow. My right foot is falling asleep.
What remains in your bodies after a long day of
work in the studio? Of course, there’s no start or end to this—to your work or
mine. Do you know this idea of the “small dance,” from the choreographer Steve
Paxton? It’s the dynamics of alignment and flow we enact in our bodies, even in
moments of so-called perfect stillness. We’re in a constant state of adjustment
and balancing; an infinite micro-choreography. So, when you’re working in the
studio, when you’re biking around the city, when you’re sleeping, when you’re reading,
when you’re eating—these movements aren’t distinct, but continuous, connective.
They stretch, bend, and contract, they constitute one another—it’s an ongoing
dance.
Laurie, Katie—how do your floors support you,
what postures do they prompt? What kinds of images get made in that proximity,
that curving-over, that encircling of arms and legs? I feel a sense of
ongoingness in your respective practices—they are filled with gestures that are
never finished. More layers are to be cut out and worked through, new tones
will emerge under reactive chemicals and light. There are new support systems
to stretch and fold across; new skeletons for new skins.
I’ve gotten up from the floor—I took a break to
stand in my kitchen and chop some vegetables. Now I’m sitting at a desk, left
leg crossed over the right. I’m taking notes about fascia and touch; I feel a
slight stiffness in the back of my neck. Laurie and Katie: all this time, I’ve
been carrying our conversations in each of my postures and I know there’s more to
come.
Talk soon, xo
Daniella”
View full PDF of Daniella Sanader's text
here