Been spending time in Khara-Khorum (The Place Whereof We Should Not Speak) lately. No internet. No posts. Got back 10 days ago. Bit of a culture shock - like getting hit by a car in the middle of the night, waking up the next morning to a face covered in blood and no memory. But, you know, the Bone moves in mysterious ways. Something in the presence of absence: what was once here, informing the shape of the world/flesh from within. Now withdrawn... there is no welcome "home".
Saw this while catching up:
A collaborative exhibition by four artists from both sides of the Atlantic. Oliver and Rory Jeffers live in Belfast. Mac Premo and Duke Riley live in Brooklyn, NY. For 36 weeks, a sketchbook travels back and forth between these four artists. Each has four days to create a spread in book. Each spread is a response to the one before it, and a call to the artist that follows. By the time it is exhibited under the Lagan Weir, from the 29th of April to the 7th of May 2004, book will have travelled over 60,000 miles.